Cath Sheard Art

Tag: mental health

  • Art heals

    I have often said art heals. It’s good for me to create – it soothes my soul. Working regularly in my art journal lets me say in words, images and gestures all the things I can’t put into spoken words. I believe the act of creating is good for all of us, whether we’re creating art, making music, baking, gardening … there’s an outlet for anyone who will listen to their inner voice.

    What I don’t often talk about is that art can also heal the viewer. Whether that’s the power of seeing art in a museum, having a piece of art that commemorates or celebrates something personal, or realising through a piece of art that you’re not alone.

    Recently I sold three small works to a woman on the East Coast of New Zealand. They live in an area that was devastated in Cyclone Gabrielle. She commissioned me to make a bigger work referencing the hills they see daily, and the apple orchards in the area.

    I’m not big on commissions so, instead, I created three works that fitted her general request. If one suited her needs, great! If not, I’d just sell them. That way, I don’t feel restricted to making work in a way that doesn’t fit with how I create. It’s a tactic I’ve used successfully before.

    I showed her three pieces, and she asked me to make a small adjustment to one. Once I’d done that, she bought the work and I shipped it off. I got a message a couple of weeks ago that it was off to the framer. Tonight I got the Bluesky message shown below. Reading it made my eyes well up, and my heart feel full. My art helped her heal and that’s a magic thing to be part of.

  • What we reveal

    Next weekend Penny and I are holding an artist talk for the closing of our joint art exhibition at Left Bank Art Gallery in Greymouth. I’m flying down on Thursday to stay with Alan for a few days and do arty stuff with Penny.

    Last night Penny and I were talking about our prep for the event. She will have some bullet notes, and go from there. I’ll have every single word written out and won’t deviate from it much. It’s the same with our art, we have two very different processes and styles.

    Where we don’t differ is we’re not very good at talking about our emotions, and this collaboration has been a huge emotional journey for both of us. I need to talk about that as part of the closing of the exhibition.

    Does what I’ve written tell the whole truth? No, not really.

    I met with someone this morning who had weight loss surgery a couple of years after me. She’s doing well. We talked about what we eat, when we eat, why we eat. Sitting here though, thinking back to our coffee meeting, I know I edited my truths. Sorry SK; it’s that old weight monster – shame.

    Sandra has been grandkid and puppy sitting today, and the puppy fell asleep n me. I asked her to take a photo for me. I look at that photo and see the puppy, but also the weight I’ve put on in the last year and there it is – shame. I’m working on it – both the food choices and the emotions. In the meantime, I’ll keep editing what I reveal, protecting myself.

  • Shallow cracks run deep!

    My art practice runs deeply through my life, and sometimes cracks appear. Life gets in the way, and my art practice takes a lower priority for a time. From the outside that probably looks like a wee crack on the surface and no big deal. But actually those shallow cracks run deep – art is vital to my life and it’s important I always find – make – time to move my hands.

    Since Tony moved into the rest home I’ve found less time for my art. At first glance I should have more time, not less – but that’s not how it works. By the time I work, and visit him 4 weeknights out of 5, then bring him home at the weekend, time is precious. When he was at home, sure things were difficult, but I sat at my art desk while he slept the days away.

    Over the last few days I’ve made a concerted effort to do a bit more art and it feels good to be moving my hands. I need to prioritise my art time better! These pages are all in my Dina Wakley journals.

  • Imperfect and scarred

    My friend Penny and I have been working on a collaborative project, sending works back and forth, adding layers of words, tissue, paint and so on. These aren’t about making pretty art. They’re about documenting stuff that’s deep, and occasionally dark, that we share.

    I commented to her tonight that “we are utterly imperfect and that’s totally ok. There is both beauty and survival in our scars.”. Our scars are physical and emotional, surface and deep.

    I have a lot of physical scars; there’s a giant one and around a dozen small ones on my stomach alone. A couple of weird – but thankfully faded – ones on the side of my neck from a central IV line. A big one on my right leg from a total knee replacement and, later this coming week, there will be a matching one on the left knee.

    It’s the same with the emotional scars … some are small and faded, others deep and persistently livid. I’ve talked about the cause of some on this blog, others there’s only one or two people who know the story. And there’s a couple of scars I can’t ever verbalise – but I have shared most of it, in writing, and in tears.

    Scarred inside and out. And that’s okay. The scars are part of me, just as my art is part of me. Like me, my art isn’t about pretty. It’s not made to match people’s furniture or look cute in a cafe. It’s about telling my story in paint when I can’t find the words and, some of the time, shining light on dark things and bringing a sense of lightness to them.

  • Creativity helps

    I’ll skip the details but Tony wasn’t great today. He was home for a bit while I was working from home, so I could attend a bunch of local meetings, but I ended up taking him back because he said he felt “absolutely dreadful”. The rest home staff said they’d call me if he got worse.

    I felt we’d had far worse days at home but until now he’s been remarkably well in their care so think they got a surprise. As I said to one staff member, he was assessed as needing rest home care for good reason! He’s feeling and looking better now but hasn’t really eaten anything today.

    It was an unsettling day, so after dinner I grabbed the new art journal I’ve started and made a bunch of backgrounds. The thing about creating backgrounds is there’s no real thought involved. I grab 3 sprays to lay down some colour, add more colour through a stencil or two, splashes or drips of water to activate the sprays and maybe some dark splatter. It’s about getting my hands busy and distracting my mind. I find it soothing – I believe art is good for the soul (but not so good for the colour of my hands!)