Multimedia artist Judith Dimitria Fleishman has been in the art world for several decades. As a visual artist, writer, and sound healer living in New York City, the diversity around her inspires her to create. In this interview, Samantha and Judith discuss her craft process, spirituality, and other things.
Samantha Chevez: How would you describe your process in writing or doing your art, and where does your creativity come from?
Judith Dimitria: I become a channel. It just comes through me. For it to really come through me, I have to be in a state of lucid dreaming, or better yet, sleep. When I'm sleeping, I get pictures. ‘Oh, I can make this!’ Like this piece about immigration. Well, in my mind, I thought, oh, I can write it in my ‘good girl’ cursive handwriting and get it made in neon, and it only cost $500. And then I realized, no, you can't spend that money. And then I think, ‘Oh, I have this old suitcase. It has my initials on it’ – JD in gold. I said, ‘Oh, I'll put dirt in that suitcase.’ ‘Oh, I can't do it in neon. I'll write it in orange acrylic.’ ‘Oh, and I'll make an orange background by rubbing Cheetos.’ And then I was in here. I said, ‘No, fuck it. Do it with Cheetos.’ And I took the dirt from a plant that I had on the roof that was frozen. They went, ‘Oh, look it's a corn tree that grows in the tropics! So where do I get the ideas? It's a channel.
Judith Dimitria Fleishman, you can't get HERE from there, 2025
Vintage suitcase, dirt, pearls, dead tropical tree stump, found wood, text made with cheetos
Judith Dimitria Fleishman, Clowns from the series Sad Clowns & Lovely Whores. Photo taken by Nikki Johnson.
Do you make scrapbooks when you travel?
Oh yes, yes. This helps me be on the plane, and in a waiting room, waiting for food in a place where I don't know the language.
That's actually a really good idea. It's a good alternative to journaling.
Oh, it's kind of journaling, but in another way, you know, sometimes all I’m doing is coloring. Like, you know, my generation got to do channel surfing. I don't know if you do that. I used to watch TV and flip the channels. And so you're like watching a documentary or a sitcom or the news or an old movie, and my mind does that. So what I like to keep around are all the things I like to look at. I have a series of clowns called ‘Sad Clowns and Lovely Whores.’ I love looking at art. Sometimes art talks to me.
I know you write, paint and also do sound healing. How did these things relate to each other?
Well, like I said, it's a dance. I've been really actively interested in a little more than a decade, and I don't know if you've ever taken any hallucinogens. I have my experience. And I think everything is a vibration. And when you like somebody, or you're interested in somebody, it's because you have a similar vibration. So… I'm still looking for a way, actually, to incorporate sound into the painting and drawing and everything else. I did a couple of shows before the pandemic at West Beth. One was for the milk room, right? And that was a sound bath, but I came in dressed with white chiffon, and I had a pitcher filled with milk, and I filled all the bowls up, thirteen bowls with milk. You could see me going like this. And then I stood in front of my gongs— I have a full moon Gong and a Pluto Gong. And then I poured the milk over me. Then you could really see that I was naked underneath. Anyway, I think they're all related, because it's a drawing when you make, when you dance, is a dance.
Erotic Indian Paintings titled L'Arte Erotica Indiana by unkown author. Photo taken by Nikki Johnson.
How did you get started as an artist?
My mother would take us to the Metropolitan and it was always like, you know what I mean? Like, at first, you'd like all those kind of realistic paintings. And then we would go, again, I liked all those painting icons from medieval times where they're cracked and crooked. And then we would go to the Greek section, which I didn't like, because it's like 15 feet tall men with dicks this big. And then we went to the primitive section. Look at that. It's a two foot guy with a one foot dick, and it's kind of pure. You get the energy from it. So, from the early age, I was making drawings, like whatever.
Judith at Monumento de Bienvenida de Aguadilla, Puerto Rico.
What's your favorite project that you've done?
Well, it’s the one I’m doing now.
What are you working on?
Okay I'm working on this number of series. I'm working on the hood book suite. The ‘hood book,’ not the good book and suite–S-U-I-T-E. It's pages– I stole the Bible from the closed up church, and I'm tearing the pages out and making drawings. But I want to do the whole Bible in some manner. I don't know how much it's the first whatever.
And another project I really loved, if you turn around. See that postcard? That's from PR, Puerto Rico. And it's as you leave Aguadilla. And those are Tainos, the statues. And I have something inside of me that loves things that are South American. You know what Curanderos are? It's a healer in Latin American tradition. It's a mixture of herbalism, catholicism. Anyway, these are Tainos which used to be in this part of Puerto Rico. And that's me.
Describe a day in your studio.
The day that I want it to be or the day that it is ?
The day that it is.
Let's assume it's the day that I want and I don't have any phone calls. Then I want to get dressed in my dirty clothes-- I mean, I can get dressed up. This is not it. This is studio clothes-- and I don't take three subways and a bus and taxi. I go down 127 steps across the street and come down here. And the first thing I do is make order, I might smoke a bowl, I might not. And then I wait for stuff to talk to me.
Do you think music helps with your creativity?
Yeah, I love the blues. Also, I like some jazz. I like to listen to whatever. Miles, or Charlie Parker...and I like some classical music. And I like some experimental music. This is music. It’s not Shakespeare. It’s as deep as Shakespeare. Its simplest elements, the most common elements. It's full of confidence in magic. And that's why I like doing things with Cheetos or dirt or garbage because I'm taking what’s there already and doing my best to let it talk to me or turn it into poetry or art. And sometimes I like singers like Bessie Smith or Janis Joplin. Yes, music influences how I work and I always have music on in the background.
What makes art into art? Besides music, where do you take inspiration from?
I take inspiration from everything. From the dead rat on the ground, to the sound of the subway, to the torn ads and the posters. Sometimes you see something, and you go, ‘look at that on the sidewalk.’ Or you see somebody walking by and they’re dressed in all orange. So wherever. And of course, actually all art, I think is self-portrait. So all of it is me. But it's like a channel surfing thing so it's not limited to my experiences because who really wants to know my life?
You experienced counter cultural elimination in 1967. What was that like?
In '67 I was thirteen, in '68 I was fourteen, and ‘69 I was fifteen. I thought there was going to be a complete social revolution within three years. I really thought that! But now we’re already in ‘25. And I studied other things. Hinduism and all that..we're in the last cycle of humanity. It's called the Kali Yuga, we're actually in the twilight of the Kali Yuga. And the Kali Yoga, you know, everything has cycles like being born, and growing up and being in maturity and decaying and dying. We're in the last cycle. And in the last cycle… see if any of this is familiar: ecological disaster, wars, disease, brutality, and lies– does that sound like anything they're going through?
Is there spiritualism in art?
Duh! Now, the way art started, I feel like every gesture an artist makes is Shamanic. Doesn't mean they’re consciously trying to be magic. But If you have the balls to face a naked page or blank canvas, and put a mark on, that's courage. So I think art is spiritual. There's an artist I love, her name is Hilma Klint. Anyway, she was kind of a recluse, I think she’s Swedish, and she thought that, you know– not aliens, but entities were speaking to her and her work is beautiful. But yes, I think artwork is spiritual, not necessarily Christian, but spiritual– think of Islam are, they can't show a face, so they express it in geometry. It's gorgeous.
Darker Days exhibition at Abaton Project Room, Jan 11, 2025. Center: Judith Fleishman . Left to Right: Ken Weathersby, Lauri Bortz, Mike Bidlo
How do you feel the art world is responding to the recent changes in politics and technology? How does it affect your practice?
So the art world is going to exist by itself. It has its own mechanics, it's incestuous, many of the dealers and collectors that all of them, if they didn't have money they'd be selling potatoes in butt -fuck nowhere, but there are some people interested in their art who are very special!
Do you have any advice you would share for artists that are just getting started?
Relax, become a channel, put down your worst gesture. Don't let your brush stop. It's a key to making the object. Fuck school, unless you want to go to school.The best thing about schools is who you meet, not what they teach you. Otherwise if they were the real artists, they wouldn’t be teachers. But just do, and don't be limited. That voice that says, ‘Oh, that's not good enough.’ So what? A lot of times when I make art, I go, ‘Oh, my God, that's so awful’....So you have to be willing to ride that wave. That's my only advice.”
What does the Trops mean to you?
What the Trops really means is Nora, the Persian brilliant woman who has both an undergraduate degree and an MBA, who not only is easy on the eyes but has a big heart. Always open creatively. Smart as a whip. And has a beautiful dog Gloria. That's what the Trops mean to me. It also means the opportunity I’ve been given to have a couple sound baths there!
Soundbath with Judith and Clara at Harvest Moon Sound Bath. October 28, 2023
What are you working on these days?
I want to have an open studio! And maybe a soundbath upstairs. I think there's a movement called DIY– do it yourself? I know some people who are doing DIY performance spaces and stuff. So the guy here who owns the place, we’re like on a similar wavelength. I'd like to make a big event. Open studio and stuff upstairs. And that's kind of like an idea. It might not happen, right? There might be a fire, gas explosion. I'd have to leave this space– who knows? But in my mind, it's already happening. It's already happened and it's great.