Artist one day, Newhouse assistant the next

To know Karen Greenfield is to know a fantastic contradiction. A nine-to-fiver with a free spirit, Greenfield’s administrative assistant job at the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications complements her flare for peacock button sculptures. But don’t let her bashful smile and soft-spoken tone fool you — Greenfield has modeled nude for figure-drawing classes since her college years.

Engulfed in a bulky violet and fuchsia coat, her face half-hidden behind a mess of golden curls, Greenfield balks at conversations about her life — until you get her talking.

“I would like to paint the world,” said Greenfield, as she circled the second level of the Gear Factory where her art is on display and her son River — “my name is R-I-V-E-R,” he explained with confidence uncommon from a dimpled three-year-old — rides a squeaky, fire-engine red tricycle.

Greenfield speaks expressively, rambling in a sort of stream-of-consciousness that causes her to forget where she first began. She breaks out into song at will. Her seductive, vibrato-filled voice is perfect for impressing audiences during karaoke nights as well as for the backup singing she did on Roosevelt Dean’s album. The crooner prefers rock ‘n’ roll and blues music — “what the ‘salt of the earth’ people listen to” — but she surprises listeners with her opera-singing chops, belting out French lyrics at will in the middle of her petite, cerulean kitchen.

Chatting, rocking out, and drifting mindlessly around bottle art, discarded chip bags, and empty boxes, Greenfield possesses the type of absent-mindedness that one needs to create large, nameless, rainbow-colored pieces that fill her space at the Gear Factory, as well as all parts of her house.

Greenfield’s sister, Sally, who works at in SU’s Warehouse, said her big sister’s creativity developed at birth.
“When we were kids, our favorite game was to draw pictures of people, mostly girls, and tell stories about their lives.  What they were eating, what they did for a living, etc.  Her stories were always a lot more fun than mine,” said the younger Greenfield.

“I am inspired by culture,” noted Karen Greenfield, who recently started showing her art. “I am inspired by colorful, pretty things. For me, art is a departure from reality. I try to bring beauty into the world. I am not trying to make a social commentary.” Greenfield pointed out one of her newer works depicting her son lying in tall grass between two psychedelic-looking trees. The night sky twinkles above him as a ghostly bear stands on two legs surrounded by water.

Greenfield’s pieces for each show differ because she refuses to restrict herself to one genre. “I had a photo concentration in college, but the foundation of everything is drawing, she said. “My sculptures are drawings out of buttons. I really like found art, so I usually use whatever people give me.”

Greenfield’s sister said she either adores or loathes her sister’s pieces with no gray areas in between.

“The button pieces have special meaning to me, since when I think of Karen and buttons, I think of our grandmother who passed away when we were very young.  She used to hide buttons all over her house for Karen and me to find,” said Sally Greenfield.

For the button pieces, two peacocks and a medieval dragon, Greenfield used spray paint, pastels, and every variety of button she could find on eBay or obtain from friends and family. While the buttons on the dragon create scale patterns, the contrasting shades, tones, sizes, and shapes help form the peacock’s wings, causing certain body parts to pop while others fade into the background.

With two shows under her belt, Greenfield’s growing collection extends beyond buttons and paintings, filling her house with color and diversity. “My problem is that I like too many things,” Greenfield explained. “It’s hard for me to stay focused on anything so I end up dabbling. I also have a hard time putting names and prices on my work. For me it’s more about what it looks like.”

Though Greenfield would love to create art full-time, she is the sole provider for her son and needs the stable income from her job with the university. “I wear the pants, and I do art,” said Greenfield. While her son attends SU daycare, she works pushing papers.

The desk job, however, often places Greenfield in an uncomfortable setting. “My friend told me she found the perfect fortune cookie for me. It said ‘You will become increasingly confident with people in your workplace.’ I was like, ‘How did you know?’” recalled Greenfield, who often gets intimidated by the professors and people she meets at work. “I have a hard time talking to them without sounding ridiculous.”

After the hectic workday, she comes home, cooks dinner with River, and finds the time to do what she loves. But life didn’t always follow such a straightforward routine.

About three and a half years ago, Greenfield “freaked out” while working in a marketing job she despised. There she met Matt Damon, River’s father and Greenfield’s ex-lover (think less Bourne Identity, more Westcott Nation-type). When he told her he would lose respect for her if she refused to quit her boring, dead-end job and travel with him,

Greenfield believed she successfully “stuck it to the man” by leaving her job and forfeiting many of her possessions.

“I was totally drinking the Kool-Aid,” mused Greenfield. Damon, whose current project is a “create your own adventure” story, wanted to fulfill his dream of traveling to Florida to be with the Rainbow People, a peace-loving group that congregates at Rainbow gatherings all over the country. Together, Damon and Greenfield traveled across the continental United States and illustrated the book Space Chicken together.

Driving from Virginia to North Carolina to Florida, the two lived off the land, doing whatever they could to get by. At one point, the couple found a cat, lost it, and then reclaimed it from a random trucker. Traveling west to Santa Fe, the pair exhausted their funds. To avoid begging for money, Greenfield stood in the town square singing opera, something she began in high school. Damon described the moment as the type of instant in which “everything shut up and all of humanity came together as one.”

The journey may have lasted longer, but soon Greenfield felt that something was off. Annoyed with Damon’s antics, Greenfield realized she “got knocked up on the side of a mountain in Boulder, Colorado.” and wanted to return home to reality.

All this from a woman who cuts loose by doing laundry and describes herself as somewhat snooze-worthy.
Realizing that her lifestyle wasn’t conducive to supporting a child, Greenfield decided to reprise her role as a part-time nude model (at least until River was born). After River celebrated his first birthday, Greenfield decided to apply for a university position and finally landed a steady job she loves. It’s a career that pays for the expenses of taking care of River, and sometimes even Damon as well.

“Karen was an incredibly supportive friend to me during a lot of dark times,” Damon said. She’s the kind of person who puts others above herself often, perhaps to her own detriment at times. “She’s a superhero.”

Greenfield also doubles as a board member for figure-drawing workshops at the Westcott Community Center, further expanding the amount of time she expends on creative energy.

“I show people how to see. The organic ability to see things is a skill everyone can learn,” Greenfield said.

As for her own art, Greenfield concentrates on making things she can be proud of.

“I’m trying to get to my favorite,” Greenfield explained. “I’m trying to make my favorite.”

Photography by Riley Woods