Haley Cavotta

I create to lose control. The process is why I do it and the result does not belong to me.

My experience working is more like a conversation, and what matters to me is not the words, but the letting go of them. The finished piece is just proof that a conversation happened, a veiled or buried series of responses. It’s a transcript, but the words are layered, muffled and jumbled. The work does not always possess a statement or deep hidden meaning I wish to project. I just talk until I'm out of breath.

My use of implements like brushes and pencils have become very limited. I’ve surrendered mostly to pouring, dragging, stamping and gravity. I'm much more interested in the experiment and what working through a piece can teach me, and I rarely work toward a finished idea that exists in my mind. When I do, I feel uncomfortable, like I’ve told a lie, or revealed a magic trick. I’m not here to translate anything specific that I am aware of, or not initially at least. I feel that this time I spend connected to the piece is meant to teach something to me, and not necessarily a means for me to project something onto an audience.

I graduated from the Columbus College of Art and Design in Fine Arts in 1997. Being immediately catapulted into a world where it is not typical for average people to exchange creative thoughts and ideas, but instead to hoard them, I fell quickly into an artistic desert and found comfort in a "creative" business instead. Running a successful business has helped to teach me many things, but has not satisfied me holistically. It's like words vs. prayers. Prayers without belief are just words, and creating without inspiration is just an exercise in technical proficiency.

I’m intrigued by quicksand, mustaches, El Caminos, lost hubcaps, and anagrams. I frequently forget whether or not people have facial hair. When I become too conscious of my words I lose them. I I have recurring dreams about tsunamis and public restrooms. I can spend hours lost in YouTube looking at disaster footage. I am sensitive to certain frequencies and I refer to the discomfort it causes as “ear rape.” In the winter, I can feel the individuality of each naked tree. I feel an intense obligation to perception. I’ve learned to never get too comfortable with my image. Wind blowing in the trees is my favorite sound and touch combo. Small sticks and leaves crunching under my feet is a close second. When I see a deer cross a street, I’m reminded that we are the ones who do not belong here. I frequently name inanimate objects. I have seen a UFO and I absolutely believe in God.

Daily Bread | 365 Paintings

It all started when...

I had been running my decorative painting business for so long that my art kept getting the back burner. After several years of very little work being produced, I felt intimidated by creating, thinking that I would have to produce such a body of work to justify the years gone by, I'd have to somehow share all that Ive learned to make up for it. So with all of that pressure, I stayed away from the studio. But in 2014, I set out on my greatest personal journey so far; to create a painting a day for the year. I so longed to be considered a prolific artist.

I remember hearing Drummond say that to me and a class full of other painting students in 1995. This resonated with me. My goal was to make a painting each day, it did not have to be a masterpiece. I was ok with just ok. Emotionally detaching from my finished work has saved me. I am more productive in my art and feel less responsibility and pressure. I feel free and connected.  I am, however, way more protective of my time. I realize that the creative process doesn’t just happen because i have an hour free here or there. I am aware of inspiration and connectivity, when it’s here I need to tend to it.  

Available at

Select pieces from the “Daily Bread” series are available for purchase at The Valley Art Center.

Recent Works