Originally from Northeast Ohio, Amanda Durig (she/her) is a visual artist and educator based in Lincoln, Nebraska. She has exhibited work nationally and internationally and is a recipient of the Coleman Printmaking Award. Amanda attended Youngstown State University in Youngstown, Ohio and received a BFA in Graphic Design and Printmaking in 2015. In 2017, she moved to Nebraska to attend graduate school at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and received her MFA in Printmaking in 2020. After graduating, Amanda completed a two-year teaching artist residency at LUX Center for the Arts where she now works as an Education Assistant. Amanda continues to teach in Foundations and Printmaking at the University of Nebraska-Omaha.
Amanda enjoys propagating and rehabilitating plants for other people, and daydreaming on fall walks with her dog, Goose.
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With a love for gardening and a curious mind, my work combines elements from my past and current experiences. Daydreaming, I often try to remember my grandmother, but all I can recall are the bleeding hearts that grew in her yard. I’m reminded of them and her everytime I walk through my neighborhood and catch a glimpse of shades of pink dancing in the wind.
Memories are slippery, unreliable visual points of reference, like a jpeg that loses pixels every time you access it. Our ability to accurately recall information is an illusion because we often choose to remember things better (or worse) than they actually were—if you can remember anything at all.
Seeking connection, I observe, analyze, and question memories that involve relationships with people and places. I often reflect and wonder how these recollections have been altered and reshaped over the years. Sometimes I wonder how things could have gone differently had I known what I do now, but that too is a slippery slope. If not careful, self-reflection and curiosity quickly turn into rumination over what could have been.
…And suddenly, I am painfully aware that moment was precious. It no longer exists. It is only an echo in mind, triggered by an old photograph, a feeling, a scent in the air, or a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye. Fleeting feelings of the familiar disappear into thin air.