Cath Sheard Art

Blog

  • Art, identity, death and tears

    I had a random conversation on BlueSky this morning with a fellow New Zealand artist. One of the things that came up, in talking about the Felt website, is I’ve given myself this year off selling and exhibiting. My reasoning was I wanted to see, at the end of the year, what my art looks like if I create with no end goal other than creating.

    While that remains true, I’ve known all along there’s something else sitting behind the decision. Something other than just seeing what happens if I create with no end goal. To be honest, I’m not sure if I haven’t been able to put my finger on it, or if I haven’t wanted to. This morning, randomly, I got there – with tears.

    Some artists create with marketing in mind. They make popular art, get good money for it, and good for them – it’s not mine to judge. For others, like me, art is an extension of who we are. My landscape paintings aren’t about replicating the landscape. They’re about memory, feelings, fleeting moments. I take my inner self and put it on the canvas for the world to see.

    For the last 34 years, part of who I am has been Tony’s partner, then wife, and finally caregiver. He was always supportive of my art, whether he understood it or not. He encouraged me to paint, and came with me to Italy when I exhibited as part of the Legato exhibition.

    For the last few years, I’ve also been Alan’s partner, with Tony’s blessing. He’s supportive of my art, but in a different way – he doesn’t have decades of practice. He understands my art less, because he hasn’t been part of that journey. That’s okay, because it’s a different relationship. I’m don’t expect him to understand it in the way Tony did.

    With Tony’s death in November, my identity changed. I am no longer Tony’s wife and caregiver, and I’m not sure what I call myself now. Tony’s widow, I guess? That’s a whole different person to who I’ve been for three decades.

    If my art is a reflection of who I am, and who I am has changed, where does that leave my art? I guess that’s the question I’ve been avoiding, the one I’m starting to face, and the one that brings tears.

  • Long weekend means play time

    A long weekend means extra play time. My best friend and I went to Star Wars: the Mandalorian and Grogu, and loved it! Alan and I went to a 70s themed 50th birthday party. I made scones, pikelets, and sultana biscuits so there are snacks for Alan while he’s out at the farm. I did all the usual housework … and still had plenty of art time.

    I’ve been trying to nail down a triad colour scheme for a series of work I’m creeping up on slowly. I think I’ve settled on Hansa yellow, Southern Ocean blue and Medium magenta. The struggle has been that I love Deep Violet with a little yellow for a warm rust red, but the Deep Violet doesn’t give me the other mixes I want.

    Today I realised I can use my preferred triad for the mix of clear brights and muted tones I want, and add Deep Violet when I need it. The colour scheme is a guide, not a prison cell.

    Colour mixes from Hansa yellow, Southern Ocean blue and Medium magenta
    This is what happens when I add Deep Violet to my preferred triad.

  • Practice decision making

    Art is about colour, line and form, but it’s also about decision making and trusting your instinct. Perhaps it’s not even so much about trusting your instinct as your unique creative voice.

    One of the ways you can understand your creative voice is through practice. Practice mark making, choosing colours, deciding which piece of collage paper goes where. That’s the magic of a sketchbook. It’s not finished art; it’s playtime. A sketchbook lowers the stakes, freeing you to play and experiment.

    Playing doesn’t waste time or materials; it’s the work of being an artist. Finished pieces that feel authentic, whatever finished means to you, are the result of time spent playing. Some artists worry they’re wasting paint, or only use cheap materials when they’re playing. The trouble with that is you practice with cheap materials, then when you swap to your “good” ones, you don’t have an in-depth understanding of them – the variations in handling, texture, colour and tone that matter so much. Buy the good things, use the good things!

    The pieces shown below are exercises inspired by a Jane Davies class, and are about practicing my decision making as an artist.

  • Seeking clarity

    Seeking clarity

    I’ve blogged before about my decision to take this year off from selling my work, to play with no outcome in mind and see what happens. Giving myself the space to heal from the emotional and physical exhaustion of losing Tony. I said I’d revisit the decision if it felt right.

    I’m not ready to start marketing and selling. I am ready to start thinking about making a body of work – what might the theme be, do I want a limited colour palette, work on paper or canvas, what materials to use? Not making, initially anyway, just thinking and getting clarity about my goal…

    It’s good to be at this point, to know I have some emotional space already. It took two years to get to this point after Mum died, and Tony’s only been gone six months. I’ve thought a lot about why it’s quicker this time. It’s certainly not about the depth of love. I think it’s because I’d been there before and knew how to look after myself better, knew how and when to seek support.

    In the meantime, I attended the ‘Sum of all the parts’ exhibition opening at Left Bank Art Gallery in Greymouth. I have three small landscapes in pale wooden floater frames in the show. It’s a group show with some fabulous work.

  • Creating on the move

    Yesterday Alan and I traveled to the South Island on the Bluebridge Livia ferry. I had a concertina sketchbook, collage scraps, water brush and a small set of Yonder paints with me.

    They were ideal for travelling with, and kept me happily occupied for the trip. I love Yonder paints because they’re highly pigmented and the colours are just plain fun!