I recently sat down for coffee with Katy Hall, the owner and artist behind Mountain Mama Art. My experience studying the finer aspects of paint may be a little lacking (think Mrs. Brannon’s 6^th grade art class), but I would describe Katherine’s work as reflective, tender, and rich.

You can view her art now on Instagram and Facebook. Even better, buy something for your home at Etsy or Society 6. And if you’re like our mother and require a coupon before purchasing something, you can use the code DEARLIFE on Etsy for a 10% discount.

E: “Tell me a little about yourself.” 

K: “Okay, I’ve been a nurse for eleven years. I have my master’s degree and now I’m a university instructor for nursing. I am a single mom to a beautiful almost-six-year-old girl, and I grew up in a very loving, supported, Christian home where I was able to do anything that I enjoyed. One of the things I enjoyed was drawing and sketching…My mom must have seen one of my million drawing notebooks that I took around with me everywhere and realized how much I loved it.”

E: “Who taught you how to paint?”

K: “I started watching Bob Ross on PBS. I never had formal training. Just learned on my own but I picked up techniques from others like my school’s art teacher. Those were the days before the internet – you couldn’t just Google how to do something. So I learned from library books and PBS.”

E: “What is Mountain Momma Art?”

K: “Mountain Momma Art is something I’ve dreamed about for a long time – sharing my art with others. I love to look at other’s artworks and gather ideas and make things for my own home. I’m not trying to be a fine art professional or break into the art scene. I just love to create things that I find beautiful and share them with others. I want to see if someone else would enjoy it, too.” 

E: “You’ve already described your beginnings as an artist. Was there one person in particular who encouraged your art?”

K: “My mom. Which is funny because my dad was my main cheerleader in music – piano and clarinet. But Mom had a better eye for it. I took a six-week portrait painting class at sixteen. Not the usual activity for sixteen-year-olds. But somehow Mom made it happen.”

E: “We’ve talked about Bob Ross, PBS, library books…I think it’s interesting to think about pre-internet days and how radically different it is today. It used to take more effort to learn something. What advice would you give to a person starting out who now has access to all of these wonderful resources?”

K: “The problem with all of the resources is that it can be overwhelming. You don’t know where to start. And you compare yourself. There are so many artists on social media – professional and not – and it can be daunting because people are so good. However, you can’t focus on that. You just draw every day and don’t even consider it practice. If you don’t enjoy it, why are you doing it?

“If you’re doing it for attention or fame or money it’s not going to bring you joy and you’re going to constantly critique your work. But if you’re doing it because you enjoy it and you want to capture something beautiful…that’s different.”

E: “Switching gears to a more philosophical question. What is an artist’s role in society?” 

K: “Art is very important. It doesn’t have to be beautiful. It can just be unique, something that draws you in. Art is a way to celebrate other parts of life. It’s not all about money and practicality. It’s about enjoying life. You can be extremely old, young, poor, rich. Every single culture celebrates art. Maybe differently, but we do. And it’s lasting.” 

E: “Art uses a whole other side of your brain…”

K: “Exactly. There are three domains of learning. Affective, cognitive, and psychomotor. Art falls into affective – our values and beliefs. Things we can’t tangibly touch or do, but it’s a feeling. A way of expressing your passion and beliefs. Your world view is expressed through art.”

E: “What is your dream project?”

K: “A giant mural of Lord of the Rings.” (Endearing laugh) “I know it’s random. But you could do Lothlorien and Hobbiton and Mount Doom…”

E: “Where would it be?”

K: “In my house. I’m too scared to do it for someone else.” 

E: “What is your strongest memory of childhood?”

K: “Hm…church. We were there twice on Sundays and every Wednesday. One of my favorite things was the structure of my church. I was absolutely in love with the architecture – the massive wooden beams, wood-planked ceilings, glass chandeliers, and stained-glass. I would lay in my mom’s lap during prayer time and stare up into the dome and imagine myself climbing up into the rafters. I was obsessed with the way the light fell through the stained glass. 

“Church was such an important part of our lives. It wasn’t something I had to do. I wanted to go.”

E: “Interesting because it feels like when you ask many people about their experiences with church as a child it comes back negatively. That they didn’t want to go…”

K: “Absolutely. But it was my sacred space. God didn’t just visit. He lived there, always. He was in the people and in the genuine love that they showed to me and my family and each other.”

E: “That’s beautiful.”

K: “The stained-glass windows were of the seasons, so they weren’t even ultra-religious. They were just beautiful, abstract depictions of God’s creation.”

E: “I think it’s fascinating the tie-in between something you felt very strongly about as a physical place and how that intertwines with art.”

K: “But that’s what art is. You take a strong, wonderful feeling and give a visual representation. Artists don’t focus on trying to convey their message. They just try to capture something and let it be. It may be interpreted differently by someone else but that’s okay. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

E: “True. Okay, in what ways do you feel West Virginia as a state has influenced your art?”

(Gets visibly excited) 

K: “I grew up in West Virginia. I’ve never lived anywhere else. I’ve traveled many places but I love coming home. I love our trees and hills. I feel safe. There’s so much wild country here. It’s whole. And the people here love our mountains and forests and rivers. We’re very proud of it. There’s a deep sense of pride in Appalachian culture and a deep sense of belonging. I paint a lot of nature. In my string art, I focus on the West Virginia shape or lyrics from our songs. I make art that means something to me and will therefore mean something to a fellow West Virginian who loves the state as much as I do.”

E: “What else do you have going on in life?”

K: “This summer I’m picking up adjunct work for another college, taking a graduate level statistics class, studying for the GRE, writing a couple research papers with my Duke research team…all of this is in preparation of applying to PhD school this fall. Learning is as much a part of me as art and music. That’s what makes me Katy Hall.”

This article has been “lightly” edited because Katherine and I tend to ramble and talk in circles. 

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I’ve known my sister for a while, and I started out our interview asking her to do what I imagined to be a simple task. “Tell us a little about yourself.”  

She started confidently. “I am a…” And then a long pause, eyes fixed on some far away thing. Mind reaching but not finding. “I don’t know. I’m just a girl.” 

It’s impossible to define ourselves in a sentence. To compensate, my sister launched into a description of the things she does. Nurse, mother, painter. But many women are mothers. Oodles of people paint. Are you a simple sum of things? How can a few nouns begin to capture your complexity? The depth of thought by which you view and live your life?

But that’s one of the most beautiful facets of art. It’s the chance to explain who you are when a definition doesn’t do it justice. When I write stories, I’m telling you about who I am. When Katherine sketches. When Marybeth sings. When Tommy plays drums. When Ben prepares a gourmet meal.

Your audience or reader or admirer will never be able to grasp the fullness of what you’re trying to express. They will never fully understand. But it’s the artist’s preoccupation to provide a glimpse. To reveal the loveliest thread of music or the rich green of West Virginia trees and to say – Look at this. This beautiful created thing. It means something.