Cath Sheard Art

Tag: abstraction

  • There’s freedom in collab

    Pen and I have been creating collaborative artwork for years now. We’ve had two exhibitions, shown collab work in multiple gallery exhibitions, sold pieces, taught classes together. We’ve built a huge amount of trust in each other as artists, and in the ability for our relationship to cope with real honesty and our authentic selves.

    Want to write giant black words over something the other did? Do it. Cut a piece into four and make them into a book? Why not! Pour neon pink ink all over something and let it drip. Go for it. We stopped asking permission years ago 😂

    There comes a point, after the pieces have been mailed back and forth between the North to South Islands numerous times, where we start asking if it’s finished. Does it need one more mark, a line, a gold dot? There’s a time when we just know. That time always comes when the pieces are high contrast, richly textured, multi layered.

    Are the collab works like the work we make individually? Yes, and no. There are elements that are absolutely our own. Penny is the queen of “feckn shiny things” and I can’t resist a good drip and some splatter. Penny’s all about rich blues, I love neon pink and orange. The hand of the artists show, but the works are uniquely ours, not mine and hers. It’s a very magical thing and I feel privileged to be creating with someone whose skills complement mine so well.

    The images below are tiny sections out of large works I’ve been adding to tonight. I spent maybe 90 minutes working and used collage, transparent embossing powder, acrylic paint & ink, a green star-filled sparkly paste and a highly textured opaque embossing powder.

  • A proving ground

    My journals are a safe place to play but also somewhere for ideas to prove themselves or die… Sometimes an idea isn’t sustainable for practical reasons, perhaps because of the materials or energy required.

    Other times I start to play with an idea and, 2 or 3 iterations along, I’m getting bored with it. If an idea is going to become a series, even a small one, it’s needs to hold my attention for a sustained period of time.

    There’s been a couple of things recently I’ve tried and dropped for the above reasons. So I’ve gone back a bit to go forward – relooking at ideas that have captivated me in the past, and putting a fresh twist on them.

    I’m playing with ridge lines, mountains and the landscape generally. Because it’s a familiar subject I’m able to play around with my materials more. These early trial works incorporate gelli prints, acrylic paint, acrylic ink, water soluble pencils, Kuretake watercolours and Ranger Distress Foundry Wax.

  • Staying with the process

    I committed to filling at least one art journal with ideas before starting on ‘good’ paper or wooden panels.

    Today I made a huge pile of gelli prints using leaves and grasses then accidentally spilt about 1/3 of a bottle of green ink on the pile of prints. They’re mainly ok though, and some of the layers are magic.

    I’m still working on my small Venezia journal and have taped borders on every second page in the A4 size one.

    I seem to be flipping between abstract and semi realistic. I know why … and it’s holding me back. I need to stick more firmly to my own artistic voice.

  • Is this it? A new series.

    I posted recently about the quiet space between projects, where I play in my art journals, try out ideas, and just muddle about. I’d been listening to a YT post by Helen Wells who refers to the ebb and flow of creativity.

    Sometimes I think I’m ready for a new series so I make a start and it’s just not right. I wrote about a false start back in March. I’ve been looking at photos from the last couple of times Alan and I have been away in the hills, and painting some ideas in my small journals.

    Last night I was watching Australian artist Laura Horn on YT; I’ve admired her work for a long time. There was something about her work that made what had been on the periphery of my knowing come into focus. I’ve started making gelli prints with a specific purpose in mind, and have bought 6 wood panels to work on. They’re only 12×12” so I can have two or three on my desk at once. I’m excited to see what happens…

  • Sea Pinks

    Over the last week or two my small art journal, where I work out ideas, has been inundated with bright greens or greenish yellows. There’s a lot of hot pink, sometimes on the horizon line or cliff edge, or scattered in the landscape.

    Sandra was looking at my art journal, went off for a few minutes, and came back to show me Sea Pink (Thrift) on to coast of Wales – and they flower in Ireland too. And there’s the answer…much of what I paint is based on memories of the landscape. Mum’s birth mother Angela was Irish; somewhere in my DNA the memory exists of the Sea Pinks flowering in the landscape.

    That might sound far fetched, but think about this. People with Scottish ancestry often feel an affinity with the bagpipes even if they don’t know they have Scottish heritage. They’ll say it is like they know the music from the first time they hear it. Why? Because it’s wired into their ancestral memory, or however you want to describe it. Of course there are examples from all over the world, from all cultures.

    Have I been to Ireland and seen the Sea Pinks in flower? No. Does my soul, my shared ancestral memories, know them? I think so. I’d love to know if Angela liked them.