Cath Sheard Art

Tag: process

  • 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.

  • Process; back to basics

    I completed my Dip Art & Creativity (Hon) back in 2007 or 2008 – it’s a long time ago. One of the things I learned during that journey was I am fascinated with the edges of my work, my works involves memory, and I am process driven. The memories and process are more important to me than the final look of the work.

    Pen Kirk and I have done a couple of joint exhibitons which have been very process driven, and I’ve found that a wobderful mix of easy and challenging. The work I am doing on my own has been less successful; I’ve been thinking about why, and doing some research. I’ve watched some of my favourite artists on YouTube, and a new one Marabeth Quin. And there it is – I’ve moved too far from memory and process which are my key drivers, thinking too soon (and too much) about what the final work will look like.

    I thought I was ready to start a new body of work. I am in the sense I know what it’ll be about, but my “aha” moment is that I shouldn’t break out the lovely new wooden panels I’ve got just yet. I’m committing to filling at least one journal, maybe two, with playful experiments, without referring to photos of the areas, so I work from memory and with no expectation about the finished pieces.

  • 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…

  • Setting artistic intentions

    I’m sick – probably not Covid (negative so far) but razor blade throat etc. There’s been a lot of bugs going round at work & in the community, so I’m tucked up in bed.

    I’ve been watching art videos by Orla Stevens, Louise Fletcher and Helen Wells on developing a solid sketchbook practice, finding consistency and setting your artistic intentions. I know, from past experience, that a new journal is not a cure-all, but I’ve just bought my first Fabriano Venezia journal and love it. The pages are thick and stand up well to the way I work. My intention is to add more “mixed” into my mixed media, so I’ve littered my desk with supplies to experiment with: paint, ink, water soluble crayons, Stabilo All pencil, oil pastels, Stabilo Woodys, collage materials, metallic inks.

    Some of the works below are from the new journal, and the square format works are ones I did last weekend when Alan and I stayed in the bush for the weekend. No light or noise pollution, only solar power, and cooking on a gas camp stove — so good! I’m not sure any of these are finished yet, and some are shown at more than one stage.

  • 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.