Shoebox Alumni Spotlight: Vicky Hoffman
- shoeboxartsla
- Jun 29
- 4 min read
When Brain Coral Changes Everything
Vicky Hoffman calls her upcoming body of work "weird in a nice way," and honestly? That might be the perfect description for an artist who's spent decades trying to organize chaos through grids and circles, only to find herself playing with turmeric powder and cucumber peels in 2025.
"I love how the discovery of a brain coral influenced the last few pieces," she tells me, and there's something beautiful about an artist who just turned seventy still getting genuinely excited by unexpected discoveries. Her next exhibition, Organizing Chaos, feels like the perfect title for someone who's learned to embrace both the madness and the method.
When High School Art Gets Weird
Vicky's story starts where so many good ones do—with supportive parents and a subscription to Time Life Library of Art books (she still has them). But the real spark came from a high school assignment she still remembers vividly: collaging on a 3D object. While Vicky put Picasso on a wine bottle, another student brilliantly collaged on a found toilet—a Fperfect riff on Duchamp's Fountain.
"Brilliant!" she says, and you can hear the lasting impact of that moment when art felt surprising and rule-breaking was alive.
Her deeper influences read like a master class in ontological art: Lee Mullican, Gordon Onslow Ford, Frank Lobdell. "Their influence is how their art transforms to an ontological language. It's poetic, playful, restful and grounded in nature." Two prints from these artists hung in her father's study—works she'd stare at constantly as a child, absorbing something she couldn't yet name.
"Grids and circles often appear in my work," Vicky explains. "It's my attempt to organize life and make sense out of the madness."
Don't we all need more of that right now?
Mornings for Admin, Afternoons for Magic
Vicky calls 2025 "the year of distractions—full of good things and some horrific local, national and global news." (Can we all relate?) Her solution is beautifully practical: mornings for life's admin, afternoons saved for the studio. It works because it's predictable, but also because "I think I'm always mentally working even while I walk the dog."
That mental working shows up in her current experiments with natural pigments—turmeric, red onion, cucumber peels, coffee grounds. It's partly about second-use and exhausting supplies, partly about a drive toward minimalism. "If I haven't touched it in a year, then perhaps it needs a new home."
This philosophy led to one of my favorite Vicky moments: realizing she had about $1,000 in oils she hadn't used in years, she connected with an artist who lost everything in the Eaton Canyon fire and gave them all away. Sometimes organizing chaos means knowing when to let go.
The Artist Community Industrial Complex (But Make It Real)
When I ask Vicky about artistic community, her response is immediate: "HUGE." And then she breaks down exactly why, with the kind of specificity that makes you want to copy her homework:
First Friday of each month: coffee with fellow artists, showing work-in-progress. "We're loud. We're helpful. We're boastful. We're honest. We're sympathetic."
Second Tuesday: accountability sessions (or at least confessing what didn't get done).
Third Monday: exploring topics like legacy and "debunking the ageism myth."
This is someone who's built the support system she needs, deliberately and consistently. It's also what drew her to Shoebox Arts after 2020, when she realized she wasn't having ANY conversations about art or with artists. "My world became very, very small. Being with the Shoebox Arts community was one of the best things I did for myself."
One moment from those sessions still resonates: during a critique, someone told her to "own it." Simple words that shifted everything. "That's my work...that's my expression...that's the title...so 'own it' VH."
Sometimes the most profound advice is the most direct.
Still in the Studio
When I ask about recent milestones, Vicky's answer stops me in my tracks: "That I'm still working in the studio; everything else is frosting on the cake."
That frosting, though, includes a recent solo exhibition—achieved through what she calls "the tedious work of researching 'good fit' galleries." She finds the deepest meaning in moments when someone "eloquently talks or writes about my work and gets right to the heart of what they see. It's stunning to me that I successfully conveyed that message."
She's refreshingly honest about the challenges: financial uncertainty, and all the writing—"Artists have to write... write... write. It's time consuming and a dreaded task plus everyone, including AI, have an opinion on the written piece."
About staying motivated? "Who says I'm motivated and inspired? What else am I going to do? I'm critical of my output and yet, I think the best thing for me is to simply screw around without a goal to achieve."
This might be the most honest thing anyone's ever said about creative practice.
What's Next
Vicky has a pitch proposal that "should have been done six months ago" (solidarity, Vicky), but she's excited about installing her 2024 work in a smaller gallery space for Organizing Chaos. She's also focused on avoiding knee surgery, carving out morning time for physical therapy alongside her art practice—because taking care of the body that makes the work is part of the work too.
Her advice for emerging artists? "Be kind to yourself and others. Be kind to your brushes and tools. Be open. Keep doing your art and have a side hustle even if it's [a] job."
Looking back on her journey, she offers this: "I weighed the options and made many decisions over the years. Today I'm at peace with my journey and I would not change a thing."
In a world obsessed with optimization and breakthrough moments, there's something radical about an artist who's found peace with her path—chaos, turmeric experiments, unfinished proposals and all.
Follow Vicky's work on Instagram @vickyhoffmanart and visit vickyhoffman.com. Keep an eye out for Organizing Chaos—it promises to be weird in the best possible way.
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