Jeff Duka, 48, Abstract and Landscape Artist
Jeff Duka pours warm tap water from a glass and cork bottle for me in a basement apartment. The rest of the house is busy with tenants. Although we’re below ground level, sunlight floods through unnaturally large windows over a rainbow mix of paint-splattered carpet, oil and acrylic paints, bowls, brushes and a few plants. A look behind the curtain nailed to the ceiling reveals a single bed, minimal stout wooden furniture, books, a record player connected to high mounted speakers and sliding glass doors.
Through the glass, Duka loves what he sees. “Of all the planned communities, Reston is the only real functioning one. I like the trees and the lack of streetlights, the sense of community. I like that my neighborhood is mixed race and mixed income. I live on an old street where the houses are basic patterns and designs in one of Reston’s first developments.”
Although he grew up in Northern Virginia and was accepted and dropped out of Corcoran School of the Arts and Design in D.C., Duka also explored life and grew as an artist in San Francisco, where he “didn’t establish any roots,” and spent lot of time in New York City, where he loved the community of friends and artists.
The past few months, Duka has experimented with paint application using embroidery and sewing thread. But he’s also working on a landscape paintings. He lives on his sales, but like many artists, his talent lives in creation, not publicity and sales. “I price to sell because I like to keep (my artwork) accessible,” he says. When I ask him what art’s role in society is, he answers without hesitation: “Art bridges class, money and cultural divides.” And then he quotes Queen Victoria: “Beware of artists. They mix with all classes of society and are therefore most dangerous.”
How do you deal with harsh criticism?
“Hopefully without sounding trite, I would have to say that I am my own harshest critic. To answer the question more directly, some of the harshest criticism to experience is when my work is just looked over in a glance and then passed on. On occasion, doing representational work, someone will ‘mistake’ something being depicted. For instance, I had a dear friend think that rolling hills in a landscape painting were actually the roiling waves of a sea.”
Do you have any rituals?
“I probably have habits I’m not aware of, but as far as rituals, I can’t stop working unless it doesn’t bug me. I don’t like [my work in progress]; I can’t stop.”
Who are your three favorite artists?
“Hmm, never an easy one … off the top of my head: Robert Smithson, Vermeer and my compatriots Matt Somma and Brian Legan. [The last two] are friends who inspire me almost daily. Though our work is all very different, they inspire, encourage and support me in both the large and small aspects of being an artist.”
What is your greatest success and worst failure?
“[My] greatest success, though somewhat ironic, would have to be producing a painting that moved someone to tears. And worst failure … well, somehow this is the toughest question. I really do just try and roll with the punches. When life gives you lemons, make paint out of them.”
What part of NoVA do you visit for inspiration?
“I recently discovered [a] cross-county trail—Difficult Run. You wouldn’t know you’re in Fairfax County. It is a well-traveled trail but goes across the whole county. I am also strangely inspired by driving to Loudoun County. North of the airport is very flat, like a basin. [There are] new data centers on the flat, expansive landscape, and I appreciate seeing the horizon. Tearing the trees opens up a new landscape, for better or for worse. The sky in Virginia is unique. Driving is of the bane of our existence in NoVA, but inevitably I like to find the advantage to mowing down trees.”
Have you ever regretted selling a piece and why?
“Only once—I sold a painting to a friend who destroyed it in a stupid fit of rage. I’ll never sell him another piece of artwork.”
