Aimee Bungard
Aimee Bungard’s artistic journey is deeply intertwined with a life steeped in creativity, curiosity, and an unrelenting need to express the complexities of the world around her. From an early age, art was not just something she did—it was the very fabric of her experience, the lens through which she perceived and processed life. Raised in an environment where making things with one’s hands was considered the highest form of intelligence, she found inspiration in the objects, books, and light that filled her childhood home. Her first painting was created on her grandfather’s lap and remained displayed under his mounted fish until his passing, a testament to the way art has always been embedded in her life’s story.
She studied painting at various colleges, but the most resonant piece of advice she received came from an advisor at Montserrat College of Art, who told her, “Not everyone is meant for the classroom.” That sentiment has stayed with her, reinforcing the idea that learning is an ongoing, self-directed journey. For Bungard, reading is fundamental, and the act of creating—whether through painting, drawing, or writing—is something that must simply be done.
Her work defies the constraints of a singular genre or style. She sees artistic style as a language, with different approaches serving as different dialects—each offering its own nuance and poetry. Her work spans from realism to abstract line work, from identifiable images to pure color fields. She consistently explores themes of femininity, the natural world, migraine, birth, mothering, and neurodivergence, not as separate subjects but as interwoven elements of existence. These themes are not chosen; they are intrinsic, the prism through which she experiences the world and through which the world experiences her.
A range of artists, writers, and musicians have left an imprint on her practice—Giacometti, Vincent van Gogh, Frida Kahlo, Hilma af Klint, Lee Krasner, and contemporary artists like Laurie Shapiro and Tracey Emin. She also finds inspiration in the raw honesty of Bukowski, the poetic lyricism of Dylan and Townes Van Zandt, and the spiritual insight of Ram Dass. But more than anything, she is inspired by the way these figures truly looked at the world, filtering reality through their own singular vision to extract something pure.
Her creative process is fluid, unrestricted by routine. She moves through her studio as she moves through life, sometimes stopping for a few minutes, sometimes dedicating hours to a piece. She is deeply connected to her surroundings, the hills of Appalachia shaping both the content and the rhythm of her work. She describes herself as a teabag in the ocean of life—constantly steeped in experience, absorbing and transforming the world around her.
Rather than resisting creative blocks, she allows them. She understands that every cycle has its fallow periods and its times of abundance. Instead of seeing creative stagnation as an obstacle, she views it as part of the journey, a necessary passage to the next piece. One of her most rewarding experiences was her participation in Stop, Collaborate and Listen, a project through Associated Artists of Pittsburgh where she worked alongside artists from Creative Citizens, a program for disabled individuals. In that space, free from the constraints of ableism, she rediscovered a creative freedom she hadn’t felt since childhood. As a late-diagnosed autistic woman, she found comfort and connection in a way that deeply shaped her work.
Her artistic purpose is constantly evolving, but at its core, it is about connection—about revealing the patterns that thread through existence. She measures success not in accolades or sales but in her ability to stay present on the precipice of creation, to remain engaged with her art while being an active, functioning member of society. If she can do that, she considers her practice a success.
Looking ahead, Bungard is working on Profiles in Nature, an ongoing body of work that will continue her exploration of identity, environment, and artistic expression. She belongs to the Flock Artist Collective, a group of artist mothers, and is always open to collaboration. Her experience as a high school student, when her abstract figure drawings were banned from a district exhibition, taught her an early lesson about censorship—one that still informs her belief that art is honesty, and honesty should never be punished.
For those just starting out, her advice is simple: Reading is fundamental. Just do it. Creativity is not something to be overthought or constrained—it is something to be lived.
