We are seated at a round modern dining table in the sunroom adjoining Rachel Hellerich’s kitchen. The room is a testament to color and minimalism: blue penny tile flooring complements original warm wood paneling on the ceiling. The four chairs are an electric lime green, and, along with the white table, are the only pieces of furniture in the space. Rachel sits across from me dressed simply in all black. A mixture of mid-century and contemporary style, the bright and colorful palette of the room contrasts starkly with Rachel’s dark clothing and hair. Her subtle lipstick offers up a flash of unexpected red.
With her eyes narrowed and her hands suspended around her coffee cup – like a potter at the wheel – she tells me:
“I love to touch art.”
She is, presumably, talking about her day job as a senior museum preparator at the Yale Center for British Art in New Haven. But her statement immediately reminds me that the way we often encounter art – from behind glass barriers and stanchions in museums – belies the reality that art is tangible, laborious, and made rather than simply generated. Tactility and process come to shape our entire conversation.
Background
Born into a family of artists, Rachel’s creative path was in many ways pre-paved. She attended Southern State Connecticut University before pursuing a post-baccalaureate degree at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She has worked at Yale for 20 years and has lived in Milford since 2008. In 2019, she and her husband Mark Tsang purchased a “modest mid-century ranch” by the water and renovated it into a stunning contemporary space, complete with a custom spiral wooden staircase that leads guests to the lower level – Rachel’s studio.
Inspiration
Influenced by the Op-Art and Precisionist movements of the 20th century, Rachel’s work delights in exactness, geometry, and what she describes as “a mix of color and restraint inspired by East Asian Art.” She smiles wryly when I ask a question to which I already know the answer – Do you gravitate toward particular colors? – and tells me, “Obviously I love blues, greens, purples – taking beach walks along the Milford shore has made a huge impact on my color preferences.”
I ask Rachel how she would describe her work, and like the focused but abstract nature of her paintings, she rattles off a series of descriptors: patterns, textiles, movement, dreams – “I like to represent things seen in a flash,” she muses, “like if you see a cool pattern on someone’s garment as you pass them on the street, or even a single part of a vivid dream you can’t quite remember in its entirety.”
Process
Rachel surprises me by sharing that she often returns to her earlier work with newfound inspiration and fervor. I note that most writers revisit their previous writing with nothing but shame and embarrassment. “Trust me,” she laughs, “I feel plenty of that too. But looking at past work can often inspire new directions. It’s like reverse muscle memory.”
Because her work often incorporates patterns and repetition, Rachel begins every piece by sketching a grid on canvas. “The math and measuring portion can take a few days,” she notes, emphasizing the precision inherent to her process. She uses acrylic and flashe paint – a vinyl-based medium with an opaque, matte finish – along with metallic paint for contrast and luminosity. “Because of the blending I do, many would expect me to use oil paint,” she explains. “But I tend to lean on my work quite a bit; I need something that is fast-drying so my arm won’t disrupt it.” For the second time in my conversation with Rachel, I’m reminded that the artistic process is a physical one.
Philosophy
Rachel tells me earnestly that at least once a year, a painting simply “doesn’t work out.” When I press her to explain what she means, she casts her eyes to the ceiling and searches for the right words. “The original intention wasn’t there…it just didn’t live up to what I thought it would be,” she says. But her tone is far from aggrieved. In fact, she perks up as she tells me that it’s good to have pieces that don’t work out, because “it means you’re trying new things.”
That is precisely Rachel’s advice for other aspiring artists: “Try several different forms of art before you decide on your preferred medium. I experimented with all kinds of media as a student before I settled on painting. In retrospect, I needed those experiences to make the work I do now.” Of equal value, she notes, is a network of artist friends from whom you can seek advice and input.
Involvement
Rachel continues to be deeply involved in various artistic communities. She recently began sharing her work internationally, working with La Mancha, a gallery in Lima, Peru. Her work has been featured most recently at the Glass House Summer Party in New Canaan, and at the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art in Hartford. She plans to host an open studio in the coming months for friends, collectors, and community members.
“Art is how I’ve always been able to connect with others,” she says. “The act of making things in the physical world is becoming less and less common. I think what I do inspires and gives people ideas about how they may want to be creative.”
rachelhellerich.com
@rachelhellerich @modestmidcenturyranch
“I like to represent things seen in a flash...like if you see a cool pattern on someone’s garment as you pass them on the street, or even a single part of a vivid dream you can’t quite remember in its entirety.”