Pretty in pink – Adrienne Connelly breaks all the rules

There is no textbook on how to paint a swimsuit. If there ever is, its author just might be 22-year-old Baton Rouge native Adrienne Connelly.

In a grey fleece and tights, her hair pulled up in a high, get-out-of-the-way bun, the LSU senior walks through the university’s art studio and into hers, the largest workspace in the huge humming warehouse—one she first staked a bold claim to over winter break by tagging the entryway with her name in spray paint. Neon pink spray paint.

Inside, the white walls are covered with studies and works in progress. Each could be an example of what not to do. There are figure drawings layered with energetic marks that curve and shoot out from elbow joints and extend wildly from fingers. “Distraction lines,” her instructor dismisses.

Opposite those are eye-popping examples of pointillism, their creation assisted by rhinestones; visceral tangles of faux dreadlocks dominated by paint primer; mashed-up assemblages of clothing, swimsuits, hats and costumes doused with color and sculpted in abstract form for a gallery wall.

“For the longest time I was scared to find my own style,” Connelly says. “But I’ve done that this year. I was trying to please my professors, but to be successful, you have to please yourself.”

Which brings us to the pink. The elephant in the room. The one color critics and fine art veterans find most difficult to take seriously is in fact Connelly’s unabashed favorite, as if she were a director who casts the same character actor in every single film she makes.

She is Wes Anderson, and pink is her Bill Murray.

“It is difficult to make candy colors sophisticated,” Connelly says. “It can read as juvenile, but it all depends on the palette. Right now I’m interested in iridescent paint and building lots of layers. I think it’s better to overdo it and fail than to stop short and not explore enough.”

Some may bristle at this anything-goes approach, but conventional wisdom says that one must know all the rules before she can break them, and few in this city have had the expert knowledge of art’s rules instilled in them at an early age like Connelly.

Her mother is respected gallerist and art dealer Ann Connelly, owner of Ann Connelly Fine Art at Southdowns Village on Perkins Road. Adrienne grew up traveling the world with her and discussing creativity and technical skill with artists George Marks, Lisa diStefano and the late Emerson Bell, among others.

“I still ask Mom for advice all the time,” Connelly says. “She’s always honest with me.”

There’s exuberance to Connelly’s latest clothing collages, a deep nostalgia for the past that can be traced back to that artful youth and her first blush with the creativity of all the Amy Dixons and Demond Matsuos who have watched her grow up. The only hitch is that she’s running out of her own clothes to use. Now she tells friends not to throw anything away. These closet remnants she gives new life: shining, monochromatic, modern, and above all, thick with mystery.

“There’s a sense of delight in her work,” says Rod Parker, director of the LSU School of Art. “She’s looking at art not just as something that is on walls but that is in the environment. There’s an energy and creativity to it.”

Connelly aims to intern with a renowned art appraiser in Washington, D.C., this summer, then return to Baton Rouge and continue challenging the concept of fine art in a city most often branded as creatively conservative.

“I want to be original and push boundaries with my work,” Connelly says. “I’m okay if it offends people.”

Connelly’s latest will be on display, along with work by her fellow graduating seniors, on May 16 at LSU’s Foster Gallery from 6 to 8 p.m. instagram.com/adrienneconnelly