.ART

Axelia Rose (www.AxeliaRose.art) is a visual artist and the first ever recipient of .ART’s Winter Visionary Grant, 2025. Head of Editorial, Rachel Suleymanov, interviewed Rose to discuss abstract art, Web3, and remarkable life-moments that defined Rose’s work. This interview was edited for length and clarity. 

Let’s start simple: how did you get into art? 

I was blessed to have parents who fostered anything and everything I was interested in. I practiced drawing every chance I got during the school day—often getting scolded for cluttering my assignments with doodles. 

In my early teens, following some personal breaking moments, I deeply resonated with the punk scene. My creative journey continued—picking up bass guitar, spending hours in psychedelic-fueled music and drawing sessions. 

This period of my life brought less creative expression, more pain, and the tragedy of seeing too many close friends’ lives end early. I was blessed once again when my family made the move to my dad’s hometown in Southern Idaho. I was surrounded by hidden lakes, canyons, rock formations, waterfalls—and above all else, the vast panoramic sky, unobstructed in every direction. The sky especially captured my attention and offered meditation, stillness, and gratitude. 

The sky especially captured my attention and offered meditation, stillness, and gratitude. 

I started college studying Theatre. Towards the end of that program, I became a mother to my beautiful daughter. Around the same time, I took a class in art history—and that was a pivotal moment. I felt a resonance and excitement stronger than what I had found in theatre. I followed that thread, took a drawing class and another art history course, and soon decided to pursue visual art fully. I completed a full visual arts program where I explored painting, ceramics, darkroom photography, and sculpture. 

From there, I continued independently—primarily in ceramics and oil painting—while raising my daughter, working customer service jobs, taking commissions here and there, and building an Etsy shop for my work. Eventually, I met my future husband (getting married in May!) who introduced me to the world of Web3. That opened my eyes to a whole new realm of possibility as an artist and helped me connect with other artists, collectors, and appreciators globally—and the rest is history.

Your work involves a lot of abstraction. Tell us about that. What’s the process? 

It can be meditative—beginning simply with the tactility of pencil on paper, feeling the graphite in different directions and pressures, flowing within that state, then pausing to assess what’s emerging. I might then feel a pull toward new colors and textures that want to join in. Other times, it starts with a very clear vision—sometimes from a dream. 

My abstraction is rooted in ideas of meditation and transformation, brought to life through curiosity, experimentation, intuition, and process-led practice. 

I’ve mentioned the vast expanse of sky where I live—at one point I was focused on painting skies and clouds, and in doing so, I found myself captivated by something equally beautiful: the palette itself. That led me down a patch of exploration and eventually this journal entry: 

I am enamored by the serendipitous beauty found in the unintentional splotches and marks made during the artist’s process—in and around the studio, on the palette, on brush rags, etc. 

My work seeks to capture this type of mark-making. As a result—and as a source of inspiration on its own—the color palettes I use in my work are deconstructions of colors found in nature, featuring varying levels of pure hue and diluted values. 

Often beginning with this approach, the chosen colors are mixed and continue their movements in intuitive ways, becoming further removed from emulation of the unintentional and transformed into something new. Magical are these brushstrokes and marks in their own right. 

So ultimately, my abstraction is rooted in ideas of meditation and transformation, brought to life through curiosity, experimentation, intuition, and process-led practice. 

You mention that your art is both personal and universal. What has the response been to your abstracted pieces? Do people interpret it in different ways? If so, how does this land with you? 

My work as a whole tends towards a balance in dichotomies—between light and dark, minimal and chaotic. People have responded with feelings of meditation, quiet, and reflection… others with a sense of energy, hope, and light… and still others with curiosity and the feeling of being excitedly lost in the details. All of these interpretations have felt deeply resonant to me. 

That’s part of what I love about abstraction—it offers space. There’s room for the viewer to bring in their own emotions, their own story, and see something that maybe even I didn’t see. At the same time, everything I create comes from something deeply personal—an emotion, a memory, a process of healing or seeking. But once the work is out in the world, it becomes something else—something shared. 

I think that’s where the universal comes in: it’s less about telling people what to feel or think, and more about offering a space where they can feel something that’s their own. When a piece resonates in multiple, even opposing ways, that’s when I feel it’s done its job. 

When a piece resonates in multiple, even opposing ways, that’s when I feel it’s done its job. 

You use the word “tranquil” to describe your recent series Room to Breathe and Emergence. Do you feel your art provides healing or mindfulness? 

From the responses I’ve gotten, I believe so. And if tranquility, healing, or mindfulness is something that people can feel through my work—then that’s really beautiful. 

For me, the act of making the work is a kind of healing. The colors, the rhythms, the mark-making—it’s all part of slowing down, tuning in, and grounding myself. I think that intention carries through. Even just pausing to follow the gentle flow of color, or tracing a line with your eyes, can be a meditative experience. 

For me, the act of making the work is a kind of healing.

I like the idea that the artwork becomes a kind of breath of fresh air—a place to rest, reflect, or simply feel. 

Let’s pivot. Tell us about your venture into AI. What was the biggest takeaway? 

My biggest takeaway so far is that there’s a whole world of tools, applications, and possibilities to explore! Also—using text prompts is truly an art form in itself. If you have a specific vision, it’s not always easy to make it happen. You go through a lot of trial and error—and I think it’s important to embrace that as part of the process. 

With more powerful or tunable AI tools, I’m sure the outcomes would be different—but what I found interesting was that the AI couldn’t replicate my art style exactly. And I saw that as a feature, not a flaw. It brought a new light and interpretation to my work that I could build from—a kind of unexpected collaboration that felt fresh and exciting.

What would you say to those hesitant about AI, digital art, Web3, etc.? 

The future is now, baby! (lol—but seriously.) I think it’s important to remember that innovation has always been met with controversy and skepticism—and then later becomes part of our cultural fabric. 

Painters responded to photography with impressionism, which opened the door to abstraction, expressionism, and whole new ways of creating. All of it was controversial at the time—and all of it drove innovation. 

So many people with incredible ideas but no traditional art training now have the tools to make something real.

AI and digital art do the same. They bring new levels of accessibility for creative expression. So many people with incredible ideas but no traditional art training now have the tools to make something real. That’s powerful. 

Greatest piece of advice you’ve ever received? 

Don’t think too much about what others might think. Don’t worry if something seems “cliché” or if it’s “been done.” That line of thinking erases your voice before it’s even spoken. Be honest. Be yourself. Allow yourself to be wrong, to grow, to evolve. Don’t erase yourself. 

Don’t erase yourself.

Most dreaded question to receive as an artist? 

I do get overwhelmed when I’m asked something deep and important on the spot and I can’t give it the answer I feel it deserves. Sometimes my mind goes blank, or I want to explore ten different threads at once but don’t have the time to do them justice. I’m very visual—and not always the best with words—I struggle to stay on track. That’s what I end up dreading! 

Answer in one sentence: what’s the future of art? 

The future of art is the past, the present, the unseen, the tangible, the intangible—the heartbeat of humans. 

What’s one benefit of having a .ART domain?

It looks clean and beautiful, makes it clear what your site is about, and—thanks to .ART and HUG—it also unlocks great opportunities like open calls and showcases!

Apply now to be considered for .ART’s Spring Visionary Grant to win $500 and get featured across .ART’s platforms.

Featured image via AxeliaRose.art