Admire It Intensely: Ingrid Nichter

Ingrid Nichter
"Look, There Are Paintings Behind Me, See?"

I have conducted a few interviews in my years, but I do not think I have run across someone as wry and amusing as Ingrid Nichter, whose surname I spell right on the first attempt more than half the time. Within the first fifty seconds of meeting her in person, I introduced her to my wife as "my new best friend." It is still unclear whether this joke was rash, but I stand by it.
Within short order, I ordered her debut (and only) novel Love, Art, and Ham Sandwiches, begging the literary gods that she was as witty on the page as she is in person, or I was about to put myself in an uncomfortable position.
Guys, the gods heard my prayers. This book ranks among my favorites of the last few years, so I don't have to awkwardly pretend that I liked it whenever we run into one another. She would know it was a lie and would respect me less for it, choking the breath from our (best) friendship.
(I asked Ingrid to provide me a few pictures to represent herself, adding that they could be of frogs or goats, then immediately adding to that addition that they should not be frogs or goats.
She said: "Okay, I found two pictures that are not frogs or goats. But I didn't really like them, so I decided to take two new pictures. I am channeling a frog and a goat in the new pictures, but I am doing it subtly."
It is up to you, dear reader, to decide whether she succeeded.)


Not to be blatantly offensive to writers of self-published books - mainly as I am one - but your book is remarkably well-edited and well-formatted. How did you manage that feat? What is your process?

I don't know how my book got well-edited, but I'm happy to hear you think it is. [...] For some reason (that I think mostly involved liking to write in a notebook while sitting in a papasan on the porch,) I wrote the first draft by hand, so it got a fair amount of editing through the "typing it into a Word doc" phase. Then I gave the rough draft to 2 or 3 people I know who are decent at writing, and they gave me some feedback/edits, and now there are no places where "lightbulb" is a word. Even if I think it should be. And "pajamas" is now spelt the proper American way with no y in it. Then I went through it a few times, looking for things like non-matching tenses and words that I use too often. I probably googled how to edit a book at some point, as I remember referring to some kind of "top 10 things to look for" list. Like using "that" too much, so I searched for all my "that"s and got rid of a good chunk of them.

I find your cover eye-catching. Who made it?

The cover is my doing. I still have the red light bulb I bought for it. Sometimes I put it in the closet fixture on Halloween--I make a figure out of old clothing and stand it by the upstairs closet window, where it looks festively creepy from the street. (It's a bit odd to have a giant window in a closet-I feel like it is only there so the window arrangement looks tidy from the outside.)

What compelled you to write this?

Why I wrote it-at SUNY, I was working in an office with a guy who writes a lot of collectible toy-related articles/books. He was attempting to write a novel about kids with superpowers which I was giving him feedback on (I don't think he ever finished it,) and I found myself getting a bit jealous. Which seemed an odd thing to feel, so I examined that and realized it was because I wanted to write a book too, so I did, and then I was happy again.

Your book reminds me of someone, but I cannot place who. Do you have any literary inspirations?

I am a pretty big fan of both Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams, so there might be some of that in there as an influence. Otherwise, no idea what it might remind you of.
(Thomm's note: It turned out that it was Christopher Moore, who undoubtedly would say that he was also a fan of both Pratchett and Adams.)
Ingrid Nichter
"Behold My Glamorous Coat. It Is Not a Pillow."

Oh my gosh, I love your art. That was not a question, but I do. I want to be friends with it. "everything's fine, hey look, it's the moon" seems like it would be fun at a party.

Aw, thanks! And I wouldn't know-since there was a pandemic on, I never took it to a party. Mostly we hung out at home and played canasta. And now it's gone to live with some stranger and parties are a thing again, and the gods only know what kind of fun it's having without me.

How do you feel about artist statements? What would you say yours is in a perfect world where you didn't have to sound "artistic" about it?

Artist statements are tough. Their purpose is to explain a bit about what you make and why, but it is really hard to do that without sounding at least a little bit pompously "artistic." I am continually rewriting mine, but I haven't yet found one I'm happy with.
My paintings are bits of me or bits of the world seen through me. Some bits are things I'm trying to sort out. Other bits are wonderful or funny things that make my insides glow. These are transformed into a physical object that I can hold and look at and reflect on-a sort of bridge to things I need to think about or things that make me happy. And then other people look at them, and they connect to my paintings via their own bridges and bits, finding their own meanings, and that connects them to me, so each painting ends up with a mess of meanings and metaphorical bridges sticking out of it.
Obviously, that's not a great artist statement, but I think the problem is less about feeling obligated to sound "artistic" and more like the difficulty in trying to describe the smell of cinnamon-some things just don't live in words. <
Ideally, I would give everyone a jelly doughnut as my artist statement. Strawberry, maybe, though raspberry is also delicious. Or one of those little bi-metal discs you pop and put on the table and wait for it to go SPROING!!! and fly past your head. I love those.

Your work transcends media - theater, painting, and a novel. Do you have one you prefer?

Oooh, I'm transcendent-I like that! I don't know what Google has told you, but I haven't actually done anything with theater since college, so I'm going to take the liberty of rewriting your interview question and substituting "music" for "theater" because I do more of that. Not a whole lot, but more than theater. Which, as I've established, I currently do none of. (Though writing a musical is totally on my List of Things I Occasionally Consider Doing. Something akin to Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog would be cool. This will probably never happen, but if it did, I'd be EXTRA transcendent. Goals.)
Back to the question-which do I prefer? I paint the most, but is this because I prefer to paint or because painting has the most potential for covering the heating bills? I think the first, but t's hard to know. I do know if I go too long without making art or playing music, I tend to feel a bit off-kilter, so they would probably both beat writing if you made some sort of Ingrid-based rock/paper/scissors game out of the three.

Might you write another novel? If so, what would you like it to be about?

I might. As for plot, you can't go too wrong with a herd of inflatable sheep, some dead squirrels, and maybe the brick-stacking ghost of a Hot Wheels collector, so it might be about those sorts of things. A bit of murder mystery, obviously. And a vitamin salesman. Vitamin salesmen are the cornerstone of any good novel. (Also, most of this might already be on my computer, so that should make it a lot easier to write.)

How have the last few years influenced your art?

Well, before the pandemic, none of my art was about the pandemic, so that's new.
And since the pandemic didn't really feel traumatic enough on its own, I also ended a decade-long relationship. And re-discovered chutney and banana bread. It's been a busy couple of years. A lot of my work during this time has inevitably centered heavily on the idea of human connection. Less has centered on chutney. None on banana bread.

What is the hardest part of what you do that people might not realize?

Not drinking the paint water. (I believe I'm a bit self-sabotaging in this-why else would I put my beverage AND my paint water in identical jelly jars and set them next to one another? It's like I want myself to drink paint water. I probably sit back and laugh at myself every time it happens.)
Or maybe it's taxes. Inventory and materials/supplies seem like such simple concepts in theory, but in practice, getting them sorted is like trying to pick a piece of eggshell out of a bowl of raw eggs. Except instead of enjoying a delicious plate of scrambled eggs when I'm done, I'm left only with a vague feeling of apprehension that despite my best efforts, I have accidentally committed tax fraud.

What has been your strangest interaction with fans? (You do so many things, so you must have an admirer or two.)

I like to get really close to my fans and speak a little louder than usual right into the center of them, so it sounds like I'm a robot. I say pithy and unexpected things like, "I AM YOUR ROBOT OVERLORD." But I'm pretty sure everyone does this with fans, so I'm not sure how strange it is. To my knowledge, no one has ever admired me doing this. The cat sometimes looks at me funny, but that's about it.

If you could collaborate with any celebrity, who would it be?

I've given this a lot of thought and have determined I would need at least six months to figure out the answer to this question.

What are you reading right now?

Currently, I'm in the middle of re-reading House of Leaves and the Discworld series, as well as Fortress of Solitude and A Hundred Billion Ghosts Gone. House of Leaves is my going-to-bed book, as I've read it already and will not stay up until 5 am to see what is on the next page. Discworld is my alternate going-to-bed book for the nights where the house is extra creaky, and the cat keeps staring at me like he knows something I don't. Fortress of Solitude is my downstairs book, because I am lazy and need a book on every floor, and the last one is a Kindle book, which I can read in the dark because we live in a technological wonder world.

Who inspires you? Either in art or life.

Mike the Headless Chicken. His head was literally chopped off, and instead of dying, he angled it into a lucrative entertainment career.

What is your favorite museum? (Art, natural, history, what have you.)

Clearly, if I'm to be interviewed, I need to develop a few more favorite things.
The Met, MoMA, and Nat History are all top-notch, of course (and conveniently located for a day trip,) but I have a special place in my heart for the Franklin Institute in Philly. As a child, I once spent the night there with the Girl Scouts (it was very Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler), and you really bond with a museum when you sleep in it.

What was your most awkward date?

I've never been good with dates, but I would bet money that it was one in January. I find Januaries very tricky.
Ingrid Nichter's painting
Ingrid Nichter

Do you have a favorite spider? Either a species or of the ones who do not pay rent in your home.

Oh, most definitely-the gutsy one living in the overflow drain of my bathroom sink. It pops out at random, which adds a great sense of suspense to one's daily ablutions. It spun a remarkably resilient web strand going from the overflow to the main drain that remained for a week or so no matter how many times we washed our hands or spat toothpaste on it. I was very impressed. (Eventually, I had to clean the sink and destroy it-it was not rebuilt. Probably because spiders don't like toothpaste on their webs.)

What's your favorite movie?

I don't have a favorite movie. I DO have a favorite book, a favorite word, a favorite water heater part, and a first/second/third favorite color, but you do not ask about them, so I'm not going to tell you what they are. (You are kicking yourself now for not asking about my favorite water heater part, aren't you?)
I am, however, particularly fond of Jan Svankmajer's Alice, Grave of the Fireflies, and Arsenic and Old Lace, among others. Put those three in a bucket and pull one out, and we'll call that my favorite.

What advice would you give to someone hoping to do what you do?

That depends-which of what I do is someone hoping to do also?
Do you wish to kill all but three particularly hardy houseplants? If so, forget to water them for several weeks, overwater them for another two weeks, and repeat that cycle until you finally break their will to live. Then get new, different plants and repeat this cycle until you find three who can manage to cling to life.
Do you wish to paint/write/etc.? I don't know that I have any particularly unique advice. Just make the things you want to make. Do the painting. Write. Don't worry about being "good"-it will just get in the way. Focus on the process, not the finished product-evaluate it after you're done. If you don't like it, paint over it. Rewrite it. Experiment, learn, check out what other people are doing. Take lessons. Hang out with other people who do the same things. Ask for constructive criticism. Keep making things until you have some you're happy with, then put them out there and see what happens. Then make more things.
Do you wish to make an omelet that does not automatically become a pan of scrambled eggs? Me too.

I see that you were inspired toward art by your grandfather. What was his work like? What would he think of your work?

My Grandad mostly painted Bob Ross-y landscapes and birds/flowers. Every once in a while, an anomalous clown or English guard would appear. He also did traditional Norwegian rosemaling. He took up oil painting later in life, and I sometimes wonder how his work might have evolved if he had started earlier or had any formal art education.
He died during my college years. I have no idea what he would think of my work, but I know he would have told me. He was a fabulous mix of support and blunt honesty-if you showed him a drawing of a horse, you felt his pride and encouragement, but you were also told in a Norwegian accent how the proportions in the legs were totally off.

You've lived in the Hudson Valley for a while. What is your favorite thing to do there? Which is your favorite diner and why?

Egad, two favorites in one question...
I so love the Hudson Valley! We've got a great art scene, and there are always local festivals and street parties going on. And of course there's all the nature. The mountains, the river, hiking/rail trails, caves, cliffs, waterfalls, lakes...even the Lowe's parking lot is gorgeous when the sun sets over the mountains.
But what is my favorite thing to do? Clearly, it can't be "sit in the Lowe's parking lot with a newly purchased tube of caulk and some eye hooks and watch the sun set" because that does NOT make me sound cool. I'm going to go with the Ice Caves near Ellenville. They are very cool-both literally and figuratively (although possibly not quite as cool as their name makes them sound.) There are also some tiny, abandoned blueberry picker houses nearby, and I am a sucker for abandoned anything.
My favorite diner. Hm. Since I'm originally from NJ, I suppose I'm culturally obligated to have one, but I haven't been to a diner in forever. There was an old-school one somewhere not too far from the Chance. It had black and white checkered crockery and served whipped butter in little ice-cream scoops on top of your pancakes-I'd say that's my favorite diner, but it might not exist anymore. And since I only ever referred to it as The Butter Diner and never drove there myself, I couldn't possibly tell you its name or where it is/was. And even if it does still exist, who knows if the butter is the same?

Do you have a piece you hated selling?

I have a couple of pieces which I definitely would hate to sell, so I don't put them up on my website or exhibit them in shows. They are mine, all mine. (Unless someone were to offer me an obscene amount of money for them, in which case they are totally someone else's, and I'll get over it.) Otherwise, new favorites replace the ones that sell, and it's nice to have a rotating selection of art on the walls.
(I feel like you need a good closing question. That last one doesn't really have an interview-concluding vibe to it, so I've taken the liberty of adding one for you. You're welcome.)
What was your favorite part of this interview?
Excellent question. My favorite part of this interview was when you transformed my paintings into sentient partygoers. It has revolutionized Friday Night Canasta.
One last question: Do you really play canasta?
I do not. I made that up to sound cool.
Find Ingrid on the web and tell her how cool she is: