In defence of contradiction with Anna Sofie Jespersen

When I go to Danish artist Anna Sofie Jespersen’s Long Island City studio, she is working on two portraits – one of Monica Lewinsky and the other of Lori Maddox. I jokingly say, “So your paintings are about figures from popular culture then,” to which she responds, “No, more like unpopular culture.”

Jespersen’s figurative canvas-based works are rife with an air of irreverence. Overwhelmingly crimson and flesh-toned, they are riotous and ferocious, like Artemisia Gentileschi’s Judith masked under Chaïm Soutine’s unsettling carnality. Her subjects assert their presence without claiming any sort of visual order or scalar coherency. Instead, they exhibit this interiority that borders psychosis, ecstasy, and torment. In their eyes and gasping mouths, there is an emotive intensity resisting easy identification and resonance. To describe the explosive energy behind her brushwork, I am tempted to quote painter and photographer David Wojnarowicz out of context, “At the moment I’m a thirty-seven-foot-tall, one-thousand-one-hundred-and-seventy-two-pound man inside this six-foot body and all I can feel is the pressure . . . and the need for release” (All I Can Feel Is the Pressure, 1988–9).

Born in Aarhus, Denmark, Jespersen moved to London after high school and studied at the Chelsea College of Arts for her BFA. It wasn’t until around 2019 that she shifted her focus away from drawing to painting while pursuing an MFA at Hunter College. In addition to this change in medium, the relocation to the US also placed Jespersen in a hyper-politicised space and pushed her art to grapple with the inevitable contradictions that coexist in broader cultural dynamics – “a nation of extremes is both bewildering and inspiring,” she says.

The figures in Jespersen’s paintings channel this distinct je ne sais quoi like they are ready to make a Page Six debut. Jespersen “casts” celebrities and people from her life in her painterly compositions as if actors in a movie, while she occasionally makes an absurdist, grinning cameo in fever-dream-like spaces. She tells me, “I’ve always loved movies, maybe even more than I do art. This idea of ‘casting’ dates back to undergrad when I drew a talk show with my heroes – Woody Allen, Billie Holiday, Fyodor Dostoevsky, and Sigourney Weaver as Ripley from Alien.” I then bring up the sexual assault charges against Woody Allen, which frequently overshadows his work. Historically, portraiture has often been associated with a gesture of endorsement, from paintings of royals in European courts to those of military commanders. Representing the likeness of a figure for a public audience is capable of achieving an immortalising or propagandist effect. Therefore, I ask her what it means to portray controversial figures such as Allen, and if it is incumbent upon artists to exercise discretion with images that evoke broader socio-cultural implications.

Jespersen nods and points out the long-contested question: Should one separate the art from the artist? To her, the answer is no. The artist and the art are inseparable. Flaws and reprehensible actions must be acknowledged, and what does this acknowledgment look like? How do we reflect without oversimplification? Is there an alternative to complete, total erasure? In fact, including imageries deemed problematic, challenging, or theatrical is a way for her to test the threshold of acceptance and interpretation.

She observes that when filmmakers tackle taboo subjects, it’s often seen as fiction or expression, detached from personal alignment. But for visual artists, the implications feel heavier. Then, what would the viewer assume about her and her political and intellectual identity, when faced with the graphic provocation in her work? Is there a way to expand or even change the extent to which taboos are untouchable? Rather than presuming endorsement, perhaps Jespersen’s art is best seen as a testing ground for disagreements.

“We need to deal with complexities and contradictions,” she says. “There are many who embody contradictions or whose presence alone challenges ideological binaries. I think that people feel very overwhelmed and very lonely. And a way to deal with that is to simplify one’s surroundings into categories of good and evil. But I believe that we should attempt not to. Thinking critically is uncomfortable, but art can force that confrontation.”

In a subversive spirit, Jespersen expresses an opinion potentially unpopular: “cancel culture” cuts productive discourses short by establishing complete dichotomies. It operates as a censoring mechanism in which people’s multifaceted personal politics are expected to function in bundles – one must be a full package or not at all. Under this apparatus, sectional ideological misalignment can easily translate to total rejection, with little room for common ground. To Jespersen, this broader zeitgeist has led artists to exercise extreme caution when addressing political themes in front of an audience perceived as scrutinising. The result, she contends, is that some artworks avoid the discussion of the political altogether, while others are unidimensionally interpreted through the lens of artist biographies alone. “I don’t know if this is good or bad,” she says. “I think art should advocate for itself. Even when something is problematic, having it out in the open can lead to more conversations.”

When I ask if her work is political, Jespersen doesn't give me a straightforward answer. Instead, she says, “The political is visceral and something you can’t escape. It’s something that just ‘is,’ like style or aesthetics.” To Jespersen, art cuts through these cultural facades without dictating any so-called universal truths. Then she enthusiastically adds: “My dream duo exhibition would be with George W. Bush.”

At the end of the day, the core of Jespersen’s work is humane and empathetic: “I like to push boundaries and make bold statements, but it’s always with a serious heart. People are complex and contradictory.” All the sexual provocation, impending chaos, and morbidity in Jespersen’s paintings are about looking back at oneself, tapping into the visceral and the psychological, and questioning why we feel the way we feel about certain images – be it discomfort, arousal, fear, or entertainment. She says, “I want art to affect the body first, then the mind. While my work includes specific references – some obscure or niche – they’re secondary to the overall vibe of a piece. The vibe matters most.”

Anna Sofie Jespersen is based in New York City.