Carly França—equal parts Californian, Idahoan, and Brazilian—is a Pasadena-based artist whose work explores survival, transformation, and the shifting nature of what we hold onto and what we let go. Her practice is shaped by early medical trauma, visible scars, queerness, and the experience of losing her home and studio in a 2025 fire. Working with paint, charcoal, and mixed media, Carly embraces process, imperfection, and impermanence. Her gestures begin in uncertainty and build outward, reflecting a belief that what changes us can also shape us—and that meaning is something we make, not something we find.
What does it mean to make drawings, especially over other art forms?
Drawing is rooting, grounding, coming back to the start. It doesn’t require much in the way of supplies or process (for me). It can be anywhere, with anything, on anything. It can be as engrossing and focused as it can be free and wandering.
What kind(s) of rituals are embedded in your drawing practice?
Drawing is the ritual. The way, what, or how is irrelevant.
In what ways does Los Angeles influence (or not) your approach to drawing?
The when I draw. The geography of Los Angeles definitely influences me. The time it takes to get anywhere. I always have a sketchbook with me. I draw in the car, on the train, waiting for pickups. Los Angeles creates a lot of wait time, but I like to think of it as moments to steal time to draw. There’s also just so much weird, disorderly, unkempt chaos here. It provokes me to approach things in a fast and loose kind of way.