Gorkie is a Melbourne-based artist and cartoonist created by Sarah Nagorcka centered on the moods of everyday life, living on Instagram with over 100 thousand followers.
In this conversation, originally published on In the Arts, Gorkie speaks on how her cartoons are spontaneously created, the anxieties around selling her work, the ethics of working as an artist on Instagram and the effects of climate anxiety on creative people.
This podcast transcript has been edited for reading clarity. Listen to the audio podcast of this interview here.
Tahney: Broadly speaking, what do you enjoy in the arts?
Gorkie: I enjoy any art that is not mine, a bit like how nobody wants to eat their own food. I seek things that are very different. I enjoy watching performance, and I’ve been getting into physical theatre a little bit lately, which is the cross between dance and clowning. These people have amazing control over their expressions.
For reading, I always have a book on the go, but I’m terrible finishing books. I’m usually dipping in and out of quite a few at once. I finished reading on us on earth we are briefly gorgeous by Ocean Vuong. I am often reading David Sedaris, who has lots of very amusing short stories.
Tahney: Same here, I’ll be watching one TV show at a time, but with books, I’ll have six I’m reading over a year. I will feel like one this day and another tomorrow, and perhaps there will be one I’m devouring.
Gorkie: It’s about mood. People will ask you what you are reading, and you say, “If I am in this mood, I’ll read this book, if I’m in that mood, I’ll read that.” I don’t read them in order either; I open it up in the middle and read a few chapters. If I like the end, I might go back to the start. It’s a bit stupid. But I need them to win me over, and then I’ll read the whole thing. It’s rude, I should read the way the authors intended.
Tahney: As an audience or a consumer, rather than as an artist, what does art do for you?
Gorkie: It gives me a different angle. It’s a relief to get out of your brain, even momentarily to get a different perspective. It’s a shower for your mind. It’s so easy to have the same internal voice over and over.
Tahney: Do you remember your first connection with art?
Gorkie: It would have been a religious thing. I was raised as a conservative Christian, and my grandparents had this massive picture of an angel guiding two little children over this bridge. It was very green- I don’t know whether that’s a 70s thing- it caste this greenish hue over the fireplace. That’s pretty strong in my mind.
Tahney: Growing up, did you naturally gravitate towards drawing and cartooning?
Gorkie: My mother was very actively involved in my education. She started to teach me how to read before I went to school and made paint for me out of flour to encourage me to paint the walls (not inside but outside!). She encouraged creativity in me. I’m not sure about art exactly, but the expression of emotion was more the basis of my art background than fine art.
Tahney: How did you find your voice? Was it linked to being able to articulate your emotions?
Gorkie: It’s interesting that you say find your voice because I’d say songwriting was my first formalised expression. I was about 16 or so and loved music. I couldn’t sing ‘regular songs’ because I didn’t have a high voice, and usually, the female part is high. So, I would write my own that were relatively low. That was the first thing that was my own.
I did a comic-strip when I was 12 called Sharp Sheep. I’m still quite dorky, so I suppose it’s fitting. But it didn’t feel my own like songwriting. In terms of finding a voice, that’s the first thing that felt mine.
Tahney: When was Gorkie born?
Gorkie: Five or six years ago. I was trying to find a new identity because I’d been in another industry and trying to work out my new thing. Initially, Gorkie emerged from more commercial reasons. I was going to do informational videos and thought I needed to brand myself, but then it somehow turned into this personal outpouring of emotion. I called myself Gork; first, it’s a derivative of my last name, until I changed it to Gorky, which is a bit softer.
Tahney: As time has gone by, has there a distinction between Sarah and Gorky or are do they often merge?
Gorkie: There’s become more of a distinction. It’s become evident to me over time what I’m doing with the character of Gorkie. It is still very much me and an honest output, but I’m not Gorkie. Gorkie is an amplified part of me.
Sometimes people think that because Gorkie is, therefore, I am depressed. The thing is, I will feel a feeling, and it might be fleeting. But as soon as you put it on paper, it suddenly carries more weight, and people can stare at it for as long as they want and it exists more permanently. From that, people think that you’re describing a permanent state that you’re in. It’s often a fleeting dip in and out of these existential moments. In that way, it’s different to me, the person.
I do try to describe what the mundane things are as well. There is a lot of work out there on the extremes of life. I’m trying to deal with the everyday existentialism.
Tahney: How often are you making cartoons?
Gorkie: All the time. I’ll have to stop my bike and draw on the side of the road. Sometimes in the studio, sometimes at my house. A big thing is when I’m about to leave somewhere. There’s something about procrastination and then not having the time to make art that makes you want to make art. As soon as I put my helmet on, I’m suddenly struck with heaps of ideas. So, I will be there with a pen and my back up against the wall.
Tahney: I do that on my commute, I will be stuck in traffic writing in my notepad against the steering wheel. It happens in the most mundane moment when you’re got to start going somewhere that’s not that exciting, then you’re like, “Aha, this is what’s in my head now!”
Gorkie: That’s exactly how the brain works. Focusing directly on a problem or a concept rarely brings results. When you suddenly switch to a more normalised space of mind, your brain will take from that situation. The solution is suddenly there.
Tahney: Gorkie is about six years old. Has there ever been a writer’s block during that time?
Gorkie: Not a block but certainly a discontentment with what I’m producing. I’ll create all kinds of rubbish or things that are not worth saying, but I’ll put it out there anyway because that’s part of what Gorkie is. It’s this unashamed notion that my work isn’t the bee’s knees, but it is what’s happening in my brain and asking the viewer if their brain is that dull as well. It is a reveal-all. Sometimes, it worries me that is lost on people, and they think I’m putting things out that are amazing or profound, but I’m not. I’m going for everyday thoughts.
Tahney: What you do outside of Gorky? You recently worked at Google – what were you doing there?
Gorkie: My role there was not so much of an artist; it was more working alongside artists. A bit of a production and project management, a bit of design in a team called Creative Lab which deals with experimental projects along the borders of art and technology. So, some of those things are still yet to be released or will never be released. We did projects around augmented reality and machine learning.
That was a bit of a year out of the ordinary for me. Although I’ve previously done a lot of work in the art-science space, art tech… not so much. I certainly used to be more in the science world; that’s the other side of my life.
Tahney: You were talking about how your sketches connect to your mind. When I am observing them, they seem spontaneous composition-wise but also precise and relatable. I’ve looked at them and been like, “Wow, that’s exactly how I feel!” What level of planning goes into those works?
Gorkie: They’re revised continuously but what is on the page when you see it is something I haven’t revised a lot in my head, but then I might go and make another not-public revision.
The more I think about something, the fewer people relate to it because they’re scrolling through. They haven’t been thinking about this topic; they want something that is immediately accessible. My cartoons are spontaneous, and I often regret the wording later and might go in and destroy the actual original, but it stays online. I’ll try not to delete things, although occasionally I do.
Tahney: That’s interesting you might destroy the original, but it’s kept archived online where it’s public! But your copy is gone.
Gorkie: I don’t know why I do what I do.
Tahney: Do focus much on the printmaking of your favourites later?
Gorkie: There are ones that I don’t mind reproducing. Others I might get contacted by people saying, “Please make a print!” I might be like, “Nah…” There is one called Pick a Life which is a series of simple lines. A is a straight line which means a regular life, B is this wiggly line, and C is this upward line. That’s one that I don’t mind reproducing. It’s simple and works well as a print. Because of the nature of the way I draw, I don’t think many of my pieces are worthy of making prints! I’ll be like, “You want that as a print?! Go nuts!” People are funny with they want. It never fails to amuse me.
Tahney: You self-scrutinise works after they’ve even come out. But in these works, you are frank in confronting odd things in life or complicated emotions. You’re doing in a self-reflective way but, as you were saying, as time has gone on, you started to separate yourself from your work. How do you maintain a level of personal vulnerability?
Gorkie: If I’m in a bad neurotic state where I think my work is shallow, I feel vulnerable then. But, honestly, because I don’t speak about specifics, I don’t find it that vulnerable. A lot of my friends, who are artists in the mental health arena, are often more specific. But there’s something about the vagueness of mine that is less vulnerable.
I find selling things more vulnerable, it’s so hard. I will lose sleep over selling one print! I think there’s something deep there connected to self-worth and people paying actual money for something that I have made. I find it challenging, and it is only getting mildly easier. If anyone has any good advice, I am all ears. Even talking about it, I can feel anxiety in my chest and stomach!
Tahney: Do you sell many prints, or are you quite protective of them?
Gorkie: If people hound me down, yes. This is why I sell a calendar because that’s 12 prints all at once. It’s easy and cheap, and after a while, you sell enough that you don’t think about it too much. Whereas, if it’s an individual print that’s going out, each time I am like, “Is this enough? Shall I add ten more prints to it? Shall I put a $50 note? Do they need their money back?” Going into their homes, they can look at it for as long as they want and find fault in it. That’s very vulnerable to me. I’m afraid of people looking at something and not finding it enough.
Tahney: Is humour is important in your work?
Gorkie: I don’t actively set out to make things funny. I think the world is quite absurd, so if there’s an element of humour in there, it’s because that’s how I see it. When you think of cartoons, like the old-style New Yorker ones (I know it’s changed a lot in the past few years with different editors) and traditional cartoons, there’s quite a forced humour about them. I don’t want to do that. If I find myself trying, that’s when I stop. If there is humour, it’s because I felt something was funny but not because I’ve tried to inject it.
Tahney: What mood are you pursuing then?
Gorkie: I’m not trying to drive a certain feeling. Maybe, curiosity? I’m interested in the internal world. Not so much interest in my internal world but more asking questions of other people, “Do you do you think this?” So, maybe curiosity.
Tahney: You’re working mostly as an artist on Instagram. Can you speak to the ethics of that? Often people will share your work, maybe editing it or tattooing it. Recently, you had someone embroider your work. How do you feel about that way of people interacting with you?
Gorkie: I am still working that out on a case-by-case basis. It entirely depends on who is doing it and why. I’m sure there’s a lot of art theorists that have written much more intelligent things about what I’m about to say. I’m finding it’s evolving. At one stage, I had an exhibition where people could take my work off the walls and photocopy it as a response to screen-shotting artwork. People were very comfortable; they were lining up. But I was openly asking them to do it. In terms of Instagram, I used to be more chill. Sure, everyone use it, I don’t care! But now I am in an awkward spot. Everybody is using my work for marketing their business or brand, but I am not being paid.
Tahney: I’ve even seen artists on Instagram call companies out on this, calling it theft by profiting off someone else’s creative production. Have you ever called anyone out?
Gorkie: When big brands don’t even tag me or do a reverse Google image search to find out who owns this image, I contact them and say, “Look, it’s my work. Please go to the effort to try and find out who made it, at least.”
But, I don’t get bitter about these things. I have seen a lot of artists in lots of fields, whether that is in art or music or whatever, be bitter about how that their work is distributed and not be able to move on. If there’s anything that creatives can do, it is be creative about how to craft a career in the future. We must turn our attention to how to make money given the circumstances. That doesn’t mean not standing up for your rights.
I have been thinking a lot lately about our ability to make money from this service approach – such as providing art to help a brand – that we’re not getting paid for reuse of our work. A lot of us are turning to make objects, like mass-produced products such as t-shirts, some prints etcetera. Then, we’ve come across climate change and pressure to not be producing and not creating waste.
Where do I sit with using resources making all this stuff? It’s quite a challenging space to make a living. I certainly feel that conflict and I’m actively looking for answers. But if you carry that thought to its very endpoint, you must take yourself off the earth because everybody has an impact through no choice of our own. We’re here now. We have a footprint. What do you do with that? It is an exciting problem.
Tahney: I feel for people who work in fashion at this moment. Their entire thing is using a lot of materials. That’s a conversation for another day, but I can imagine that being quite confronting.
Gorkie: Then people say, “Is climate change causing you anxiety?” Oh, not at all, it’s just occupying my dreams! I am thinking about it constantly.
Tahney: I was getting onto a flight when the last school strike was on. I thought, “I don’t think I’m totally across the science of climate change.” I sat down with the Wikipedia page and learnt how it all works. Cold hard facts. I was destroyed, then I had to get on a plane which felt horrible because of all the co2 emissions.
Gorkie: Your reaction makes a lot of sense. For me, it was reading resources by an organisation called Breakthrough and researching the actual science behind it: What is global warming? Where do they measure it? Do they measure the sea? How long have they been doing it? Finding out the facts.
Tahney: When you get to the nitty-gritty details, it’s just like, wow! So many scientists are in agreeance about it and saying they don’t even think we can avoid this, we’re going to have to figure out how to mitigate it and how to adapt and we might not be able to that. Haha, maybe we should switch to a more positive topic!
Going back to talking about working on Instagram, we spoke about the negative side, but there’s also the positives. You have this instantaneous community. What has been that process for you building a community, and how do you interact with it?
Gorkie: Who would have thought that people outside of Australia would care about and support my work? That has been very surprising. I get a lot of, “That’s so me!” or “I feel attacked!” I love that people relate on that level. But some people get so into it and will analyse things and send me questions. Sometimes it’s good to stop and be grateful for that. You can get a bit carried away with some of the negative aspects or trying to make a living- because that can be stressful -and sometimes it’s nice to be like, “Wow, strangers are reacting to my work!” Who would have thought that would happen?
Tahney: Have you seen your work taken out of context?
Gorkie: I’ve seen it take it out of context aesthetically, I’ve seen the colours changed, I’ve seen it engraved into the wood, I’ve seen people cross out words to write their own. Once someone crossed something out and replaced it with equals sign love. I was like this doesn’t make sense. Whenever I do something self-love related, the lingerie accounts will go off, and it gets shared over and over. It’s always lingerie companies! I feel I should get something in exchange.
Tahney: Invoice them for a couple of pairs of lingerie. Instagram is such an interesting social experiment; you see what communities react to different imagery. Do you find this a lot of young women engage with you?
Gorkie: The stats say 87 per cent women- but shout out to all the men out there who support my work.
Tahney: You’re not entirely digital, you also make concrete items – shirts, calendars and things- and are based in a studio. What is the importance of physical space for you?
Gorkie: It’s more about having somewhere to go even if I don’t do anything. I might go there and snack and then ride home. That’s not true so much, anymore, but certainly, in the early days I didn’t have as many freelancing jobs, so it would be a place to have a conversation with someone and know that I went somewhere that day and didn’t fall into the mental pit of staying at home. Nowadays, it’s more about storage, somewhere to keep my sketchbooks and all my postage.
I’m currently a studio that has a lot of people that make incredibly detailed craft items, like weavers and glassmakers. It has a different vibe to previous places with a more commercial edge, like design workers and knowledge workers. Studios always bring something different to your practice, and it influences it in ways you might not expect. Human connection is so important.
Tahney: Outside of your studio, do you connect with the cartooning community?
Gorkie: I am connected with a lot of Instagram artists and cartoonists, especially internationally. America is still the place to be pretty much if you want to be a cartoonist. So, it’s good to connect with them online. In terms of the art community, in Melbourne, I’m more connected with the science community. I’m getting more connected with the art community, but my strongest connections are in that intersection space between art, science, performance and tech. When you’re worried about some design problem, and you go to a performance event, you realise no one cares that I got a line wrong.
Tahney: I was stuck in the visual art space for a while but then started going to the theatre a lot. I love how forward it is. You can see it, and it’s so in-your-face. But you still have to spend time with it, unlike visual art, which has often doesn’t get the time. The average time spent looking at a piece of art in a museum is four to six seconds, which is depressing.
Gorkie: What is almost even sadder is that Instagram is probably three seconds.
Tahney: We just don’t have the attention span. But with theatre, you’re forced to sit there for two hours and ruminate on the story and themes they’re conveying. Speaking of which, can we talk about the value of cartooning in 2019?
Gorkie: This is good that we’re coming off the six-second fact. In art, you need all the tools you can get. With cartooning, you are helped by the combination of the visual and a text. Weirdly enough in this digital age, we’ve got a short attention span and, for this very instantaneous moment, cartooning has got a bit of a moment in history.
Tahney: Aside from attention spans, why is it making strides?
Gorkie: Probably that we are wading through this glut of information and cartoons are very reductive. I’m not making a value judgment. I mean, purely, that it reduces concepts and makes things more transparent in a way that’s so necessary right now. Everyone’s in a fog of really fast information.
Tahney: It’s helping people process complex ideas and moments. The text does help as well. Cartoons are simple; you don’t have to think too abstractly; the artist has done all the legwork.
I don’t know if this is a passé thing to talk about, but because it’s current events when we’re recording in October 2019, I thought I would bring it up. A very popular Australia cartoonist, Michael Leunig, recently did a cartoon of a mum on her phone, not noticing that her baby has fallen out of the pram. It caused a lot of backlash as it was quite condescending. I saw article after article criticising him. Do cartoons need to please the masses, and do they need to be helping the community as a whole?
Gorkie: It needs to please the masses if that’s what you want to do. You need to help the community if that’s what you want to do. I don’t know that’s what he wants to do say. I am not a mother, so I didn’t feel super strongly about it, but I can understand why people did. It might have touched a nerve because it’s what we all wonder- whether we’re doing things in a right way and when someone says you are doing it wrong it’s going to touch a nerve. I don’t think that’s very tasteful. I don’t think he necessarily cares, that’s more of the issue. I don’t know him personally, but I once smiled at him in a fruit store.
Tahney: To finish off, what can we see from you in the next 12 months?
Gorkie: I’m hoping to get more off the page. I have a bit of a background in performance, and I’m itching to do an iteration of Gorkie thing. But, I’m still working it out. I am mostly hoping to get out in the real word world more, perhaps doing an exhibition or some workshops. I’m itching to get off the screen. I want to talk to some more people and get out of my head.