The Art of Pink: How Emma Grace Hapner Turns Color Into Expression
Written by Christina Elia
For Emma Hapner, the color pink brings back sweet memories of girlhood – of shimmering unicorns, scented lip gloss, and elaborate frilly accessories. The figurative painter primarily works in oil, and her semi-realistic art appeals to the kind of people who dotted their i’s with tiny hearts in middle school, myself included. Since she specializes in self-portraits, Hapner is her own leading lady, loading canvas upon canvas with vibrant iterations of her likeness. Fully accepting her femininity was a gradual process, though.
“I’ve loved pink ever since I was young,” Hapner says. “When I got older, I wanted to be taken seriously as a feminist and went through that ‘not-like-other-girls’ phase. I had to find myself again and understand that I did want to be like other girls. I love girly things. I realized femininity is not the antithesis of feminism.”
Despite her enduring pink palette, Hapner experimented with her subject matter early on. While pursuing her MFA at the New York Academy of Arts, she focused on painting peers – mostly asking friends to model – because it seemed like the safer option, trying not to appear “too vain.” She still tackled feminist themes from a broader perspective, all the while projecting personal experiences onto the confident figures in her compositions. It resonated with others, but her art became more sincere once Hapner recognized what she really wanted: to express her interiority through self-portraiture. She began to take bigger risks not long after, like painting herself nude.
Since she specializes in self-portraits, Hapner is her own leading lady, loading canvas upon canvas with vibrant iterations of her likeness.
“In grad school, I felt like I was making work that was intentionally feminist, but I wasn’t sure what I was trying to say. I think I was using it as a crutch,” Hapner explains. “Once I began making work about myself without labeling it as feminist, other women started to label it for me because they could relate to the ideas I was trying to convey. So, it happened at first on purpose, but then by accident much more authentically.”
When I tour her Tribeca studio, Hapner is bubbly and poised, rocking hair dyed as bright as her paintings. The space is expectedly embellished with cutesy decor – a pink couch, flower-shaped pillows, a Kirby mug – alongside some past pieces, revealing her swift evolution as an artist. Leaving an academic setting helped Hapner mature and cultivate the vulnerability required of someone consistently photographing, Photoshopping, and painting their own naked body, raw and exposed for everyone to see. Even during moments of insecurity, the support she receives from women in her community, whether it be collectors, fans, or fellow artists, motivates her to push forward and examine this dichotomy in her work.
“My image is tied to my work and how I market it on Instagram, but there are days when I don’t like how I look. I think it all contributes to the complexity of womanhood,” Hapner tells me. “It’s an interesting pendulum between confidence and self-hatred that a lot of women seem to experience, and I try to reflect that. Some of the faces in my paintings aren’t beautiful. Sometimes they’re really ugly and that’s okay.”
“Once I began making work about myself without labeling it as feminist, other women started to label it for me because they could relate to the ideas I was trying to convey. So, it happened at first on purpose, but then by accident much more authentically.”
In April 2023, Hapner had her first solo show at VillageOneArt, Girls Will Be Girls. She debuted Cowgirls and Mermaids at the same gallery in November, exchanging the masculine archetype of the Wild West cowboy for a bounty of glitter and blinged-out get-ups. The artist even bedazzled an outfit for the occasion, visible in Grenadine, where her fingers form the shape of a loaded gun, blowing on her red acrylic nails like smoke from a barrel. Siren Song portrays Hapner as an enchantress among lily pads while Melusine references the namesake female river spirit from European folklore. Paring these contrasting yet connected personas underscores her interest in roleplay as an exploration of gender identity, particularly regarding perceived power dynamics.
“I toyed with the idea of fantasy by putting myself into these different roles and subverting them. I’m this mysterious rogue figure with a gun or I’m a siren, but I’m wearing sparkly barrettes, butterfly clips, and friendship bracelets,” she explains. “The exhibition was definitely for the girls, and it made me so happy to hear other women also talking about playing mermaids in the pool or wanting to dress up as a cowgirl.”
Hapner takes an allegorical approach in her new series, with backdrops borrowed from the Italian and Flemish Renaissance paintings she sees daily as an art history professor. Inspired by the idiom ‘all’s fair in love and war,’ two works show the artist armed with weapons that have ribbons or heart-shaped gems, her luscious hair flowing behind her naked body. In another, five dancing nymphs join hands – identical except for their facial expressions – which range from mischievous to serious. All three paintings depict the subjects wearing high stripper heels, which Hapner considers a symbol of her sexuality. Ultimately, the series is an attempt to assert her romantic agency and reclaim the tenderness she once shied away from.
“Sometimes relationships can feel like a bit of a battle, not giving too much away and upholding your standards, beliefs, and morals. You need to compromise on things,” Hapner says. ”I have a partner and he’s great, this isn’t about him specifically, it’s more of an internal conflict for me, being a very soft and feminine person and not wanting to fall into these stereotyped roles.”
“The exhibition was definitely for the girls, and it made me so happy to hear other women also talking about playing mermaids in the pool or wanting to dress up as a cowgirl.”
We ended our interview by chatting about everything from platform shoes to biased Instagram censorship, and Hapner explained how the app continues to flag her work for nudity. She’s been brainstorming new ways to circumvent the algorithm and share more paintings online, Patreon being the main alternative, but she’s convinced the problem extends beyond the whims of a single social media conglomerate. It all comes down to controlling women (or those who don’t fit the hegemonic mold) – our bodies, our aspirations, our individuality. That’s why Hapner makes such bold paintings to begin with, inviting viewers inside the colorful universe she created and hoping we find a little piece of ourselves, too.
“I tend to exist in my own world when I’m making my paintings, but when I receive such positive feedback, it makes me feel less alone in my experience,” Hapner says. “Despite looking inward a lot in my work, I’m happy other women and femme-presenting people continually relate to it. Maybe it helps them look inward as well.”
Christina Elia is a freelance journalist and personal essayist from New York City who writes about fine art, photography, and travel. Her work has been published online in Observer, Apartment Therapy, and i-D Magazine, and has appeared in print in SixtySix Magazine and Graffiti Art Magazine.
