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Creativity Q+A with Cherie Correll

Cherie Correll, a mixed media artist living in Benzie County, retired in 2010 after decades of teaching art in the public schools. She said she took “2 1/2 years [after retirement] to decompress and figure out my practice. It was going to a lot of different directions.” This interview took place in November 2020. It was conducted by Sarah Bearup-Neal, GAAC Gallery Manager, and was edited for clarity.


Describe the medium in which you work.

I work in a lot of mediums. If I had to narrow it down, I’d call it mixed media. I work in watercolor, acrylic, pastels, photography. I incorporate repurposed things and found objects. I’m not sticking to one media per se.

What draws you to the medium in which you work?

Because it [mixed media] allows me to create in a broader sense. It gives me more tools to use. Sometimes the tools become a starting point. And sometimes they’re what I use to express what I’m trying to create.

Did you attend art school or receive any formal training in visual art?

I’ve been creating since I was a pre-schooler ….. I did go to college as an art major [Central Michigan University], and then transferred to Michigan State University for my last two years of undergrad, so my degree [BA] is from Michigan State. Many, many years later I went back and worked on a Masters at Central Michigan. And I’ve taken classes from Eastern, Western, workshops throughout the United States

You taught art in public schools.

I taught in various locations when we moved back from California. I did a lot of substituting and then was hired by Traverse City Public Schools ….. I ended up teaching for over 36 years in various schools. In fact, I’ve been to every school in Traverse City. I guess that’s my claim to fame as a teacher: I know every art room.

How did your formal training affect your development as a creative practitioner?

I think it was very important for me. I don’t know if it’s necessary to do strong work. I liked the idea of learning the elements and principles of design, the art history part of it was very important to me ….. I really enjoyed studying different indigenous people from throughout the world. I found that fascinating, whether it was African art, Asian art. In this part of the world, the Inuit world was interesting to me …… I shared that with my students and built a lot of curriculum around art history.

I think it enriches one when one learns how to mix colors, the color wheel, composition, how to study from real life. I found that was valuable in my practice.

Describe your studio/workspace. How does your studio/workspace facilitate your work? Affect your work?

Interior view of Cheri’s studio.

It gives me space to explore different directions. I’m fortunate to have a heated section of our garage, that we partitioned off and drywalled. I kept the garage door so I can open up in the summer when the weather’s nice, and work flat or work out in the driveway and just bring it in. It’s really nice. I have a sink and windows. It’s full. It’s full of stuff. But I love it, and feel blessed to have that space; for years and years I didn’t, and I think it limited ….. my creativity, so now I’m like a kid set free.

If you were to guess, how many square feet is your studio?

It would be one section where you could drive a car into if you had a one-car garage. The problem is, it’s not a one-car garage. It happens to be bigger than our house. It’s a four-car garage. The far end of it is my husband’s tools and work area. And then the two middle sections are filled with bikes, snow blowers, that kind of things, but I’ve inched my way beyond our wall to our common space, and I often go into his work area to borrow tools and so forth. Funny. He built me shelving to put my canvases in, and that was very helpful.

What themes/ideas are the focus of your work?

The overarching theme is our universe, the world, and how mankind and living things are influenced by the natural world, and how the natural world has influenced the human-made world .…. I’m drawn to found objects and re-purposing them ….. Oftentimes, I use things that have been discarded — plastic, tire parts — and I combine them with other things like tar and natural dyes.

What prompts the beginning of a project or composition?

It comes from two different poles. It may be an idea I get from an actual physical object — something I’ve found or drawn to, I might see how that can develop into a sculpture or a relief or a mixed media piece.

Contamination, 2020, mixed media assemblage [photographs, cardboard, mesh, paint, plastic, wood], 19″h x 25″w x 6″d
Do you just grab it and start playing with it?

I live with it for a while. I have quite a collection. The tire series I did came out of finding my first shred at the side of the road, and seeing what I could do with it, and then I spent many, many years incorporating tire part. I realized that they’re not something you just dispose of easily [from an ecological standpoint]. You can’t take them to recycle, and I kept accumulating them, so I wanted to find a way of using them and bringing another life to them.

The other side of the spectrum is an idea or thought that I want to convey brings me to how can I work with what I have in my head. It’s both the physical things that one can touch, and it’s also what comes from my brain.

How much pre-planning do you do in advance of beginning a new project or composition?

Sometimes I’m simply guided by an old piece that has not been resolved, and I want to put energy into resolving it, or else disposing of it. Sometimes disposing of it might mean tearing or spreading or whatever, and then I may find a use for parts of it in another piece. for example: in a collage.

Do you work on more than one project at a time?

I work on several pieces at a time, and I do enjoy that, however, I have to limit myself to certain directions so I don’t get too spread thin. I need to follow through with a series before I open up another, completely different window. Sometimes I depart from that and go out and plein air paint .…. It is [a break]. I love the fact I can get out in nature and the elements. It’s uplifting and it’s also very challenging. I’m more an abstract artist rather than a representational artist, so it becomes a challenge to limit what one sees that we want to put down on a flat surface .…. It’s a good discipline. We’re not trying to create a realistic thing that becomes like a photograph, or else, why do it? ..… As far as I’m concerned, the artist needs to put their own eyes on what they’re doing and seeing.

Do you work in a series?

II like working in a series. If I find a direction that really excites me, I need to grow with that, and to take it farther. More recently, in the past year or two, global issues have weighed heavily on my heart, and I haven’t spent a lot of time doing plein air or getting sidetracked although I have a lot of things that are waiting to be resolved. I feel right now I have to explore what is weighing heavy on my heart. It may not be as uplifting as a beautiful scene or a sketching in my sketchbook a still life, I feel like time is of the essence, and it maybe I have a heightened awareness about our world. It may be because I’m getting older and realizing we’re only given so much time on this earth, and how am I going to make it most valuable .…. to me.

What’s your favorite tool?

This probably sounds selfish, but it’s my imagination. And the world around me.

What role does a sketchbook play in your practice?

I think it’s very helpful. I do more journaling that I do sketching. It’s a great discipline for one today a daily sketchbook. I found that my journaling has been beneficial because ideas go down in my journal, anything I’ve read that I find motivational or powerful, I write it down. It might have come from my upbringing; my dad wrote a page in his diary all his life since he was a youngster. Every day. Just a few sentences.

Balancing Act, [in process], mixed media assemblage, recycled wooden furniture parts, 16″h x 18″w x 18″d
How do you come up with a title?

Sometimes it’s very hard and I don’t want to put any preconceived idea into the viewer’s mind, so [the title becomes] a broad word, or Number 1 or Number 2 or Number 3 in that series. When I do have to put a title to it, sometimes it just pops up. Other times, I’ll ask my husband, however, any title he comes up with is what he sees in it: “Oh. I see a specific thing” or “I see a creature”; that’s how he sees a title. I think it’s kind of interesting, but I do throw things back at him ……

I’m working on a series right now where I’m working in three-dimension — they’re sculptures. The first one I did over a year ago I call Balancing Act. It’s a metaphor for how I was feeling, and how life is. It’s a balancing act of life. That piece is completed.

I also bounce things off my daughter. She’s a visual and performing artist. We share, and it’s nice to have her as a resource. She’s very knowledgeable about what’s happening all over the world because she’s lived in Europe, Los Angeles, New York, and she has a lot of background.

What’s the job of a title?

It might help to give the viewer a better understanding of what the artist might be trying to portray.

When did you commit to working with serious [professional] intent? What were the circumstances?

I’ve always been serious about my practice. My art teacher in grade school was a driving force in getting me a one-person show at the Carnegie library [1] when I was in 7th grade. And, I had a show at the local camera shop when I was a teenager. I’ve always been serious about my work, but life goes on. And even though I was an art major, [some] things sometimes got in the way of being a full-time art practice: a mom, a wife, I had my teaching commitments, and most of my energy was for my students.

What role does social media play in your practice?

It connects me with other artists. I have a daily newsletter that I get [Art Daily] which I find very valuable in keeping me abreast of what’s happening in other parts of the world; what artists are doing, whose curating shows, what’s happening with art auction houses.

Do you use Facebook, Twitter, Instagram?

I am on Facebook. I don’t post a whole lot, but I love the people who are posting their work. It’s a social connection and I can see what they’re working on and how they’re growing. It’s really nice, however, I’m not one to do it myself unless there’s some huge show that’s coming up. I just don’t do that. It’s distracting me. You can really get sidetracked. I’m not a very good promoter but I love looking at other people’s work. Especially when I know them. Everyone says Instagram is great for artists .…. I just haven’t explored any of that.

What do you believe is the visual artist ’s/creative practitioner’s role in the world?

I think it’s being true to themselves. Being honest, and doing the work, and growing and finding their own voice.

How does living in Northern Michigan inform and influence your creative practice?

It can’t help but influence someone’s work when we’re so blessed ..… to live with nature all around us. The seasons — we’re fortunate to have the season. We’re fortunate to be surrounded by water and all the elements. It can’t help but influence one’s work. I live at the corner of Benzie, Leelanau, and Grand Traverse counties — three of the most beautiful places in the world. It the most beautiful place, and I wouldn’t want to be in any other place. However, social media, bring out of my little cubbyhole here and gives me exposure to other places in the world. 

How long have you lived in Northern Michigan?

I was born in TC, and I moved away when my husband and I were first married, and we lived in Northern California for three-and-a-half years [moved back in 1972].

Is the work you do a reflection of this place?

Seeking Asylum, 2020, mixed media assemblage [photographs, roofing scraps, road tar], 18″h x 25″w x 2″d.
I think so. When I do plein air, definitely. What I’m using found objects, definitely, because they’re from around here. When I walk the beaches I’m picking up natural things. I’m also picking up things that have been disposed of, like plastic. I feel driven to do that.

Would you be doing different work if you did not live in Northern Michigan?

I think I would be doing different work. If I had a huge studio in a big city, I think my work might be totally different because I’d be surrounded by a different kind of energy. And a different kind of influence: the sounds, the smells, all the senses, would take on a different meaning.

Did you know any practicing studio artists when you were growing up?

I knew a few. One of my parents’ dear friends was an illustrator, and she worked for Hallmark. And, she had a very creative mind. Her name was Mary Dorman [2], and she invented the pop-up card. She was the first to make pop-up cards for Hallmark. She would write little booklets, a lot of humorous things about simple things in life ….. My first impression was “what a wonderful job.” And then she came and spoke at one of my high school career days, and she was very discouraging about the profession. I know it’s a lonely profession. You’re working at your own drawing board. My heart sunk to my stomach. I don’t know how much she really enjoyed it.

Who has had the greatest and most lasting influence on your work and practice?

Oh, there have been so many, from the cave paintings of our early ancestors, indigenous people throughout the world, Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo, the Impressionists for light and color. As a young artist, I was drawn to the Abstract Expressionists, especially Mark Rothko and Helen Frankenthaler. I learn from many art instructors and other working artists around the world. We have such a strong artist’s community right here in Northern Michigan, too.

But to answer your question with a specific person I would have to say my mother has had the most lasting influence on my work and art practice. She provided me an environment as a child and during my growing up years to express myself through art, and she showed me through her example that it also takes discipline. She was an artist in different ways — with her skills in cooking, gardening, dressing, decorating, and her whole personality.

Where or to whom do you go when you need honest feedback about your work?

I’ve been involved in various critique groups. We all work in different media, and we all have different styles and kinds of practices. I find that’s very valuable to share with people you respect that might not necessarily be working in the same direction. We all learn from each other. Art friends that I highly respect, and they’re sure are enough of them around here.

What is the role of the exhibition in your practice?

I think it’s healthy. It takes a lot of bravery for anyone, no matter how long you’ve been a working artist, to take that leap and put your work out there. For some, it’s an economic necessity. They’re building a business. I would have loved to have primarily been a working artist and not an educator, but that’s really risky. I found the needs of my family required me to go back to teaching, although I took a break and had my freelance design business [painting, furniture restoration] ….. to have the security of a teaching career, and have insurance, for one thing, led me to do that …..

Why do you take the risk to put your work out there? What does that do for your practice?

I think it can be very helpful. For example, It’s not going to deter me from my main direction, but I love a theme for a show. It gets people out of their heads .…. and I think how can I make that theme work for my own practice? And be true to what I’m doing? That becomes a really nice challenge ..… It’s a departure point …… It gets you out thinking beyond your own little vision. It’s stimulating, is what it is. It’s very motivating. And to be disciplined with a time stipulation is another thing.


Footnotes

1: The Traverse City Carnegie Library is located at 322 Sixth Street. It is now the Traverse City location of the Crooked Tree Arts Center.

2: Mary Dorman Lardie [1913 – 2009] lived on the Old Mission Peninsula. She was hired in 1933 as the first editorial staff member of the Hall Brother greeting card company, which later became Hallmark Cards.

Top Image: Cherie Correll at the door of her studio.

Learn more about Cherie Correll here.

Sarah Bearup-Neal develops and curates Glen Arbor Arts Center exhibitions. She maintains a studio practice focused on fiber + collage.

Creativity Q+A with Colleen Kole

Colleen Kole is “an artist who uses textiles.” She hand dyes her fabrics – makes her own materials – and with them creates abstract, contemporary quilts. Colleen is one of a growing number of studio artists who are exploring the quilt as an art object, and pushing it out of the home and into galleries and museums. This interview took place in December 2020. It was conducted by Sarah Bearup-Neal, GAAC Gallery Manager, and was edited for clarity. Colleen lives in Leland and Grand Rapids, Michigan.

[image courtesy Bonnie McCaffery]

What draws you to the medium in which you work?

I’ve always been drawn to create with my hands. I was a physical therapist, so I used my hands to diagnose a patient — along with visual skills. I’ve always loved using my hands to work with, and that just translated to art so well after I retired [in 2007]. Prior to that, I didn’t have any art influence in my life. I didn’t have anyone in my family who was an artist. I didn’t really know what being an artist was. I didn’t grow up painting or drawing. I always was intrigued by it ….. [Her interest in art started when] we lived in Columbus, Ohio, by Amish quilt makers [living in the vicinity]. I started going to flea markets and picking up [quilt] squares that weren’t finished, and felt a desire to put them together by hand. I did that for many, many years …. It was so rewarding to stitch something by hand. Fast forward to having kids, and I thought, “Wow, this is crazy, I’ll never finish anything.” I went to the Vermont Quilt Festival in 2006 and picked up a book by [Ohio artist] Nancy Crow [1] ….. I remember sitting there at a picnic table and thinking, “Wow! Wow! I want to create like this. I want wild, vivid colors. I want improvisational design” — once I figured out what she meant by that term. “I want to go study with her.”

The quilts squares you bought from the Amish and at flea markets were probably very tradition designs.

Yes, except for I found ….. a bag of [squares from a flea market] that [the maker] obviously had not used a pattern for. It looked like she’d cut the pieces by hand because the edges in back were jagged, and she put them together in an improvisational way. That made the bridge to Nancy Crow-style quilting ….. I had no idea of [Nancy Crow] then. I actually moved away from Columbus [to Michigan in 2004] before I found her ….. I started studying with Nancy in 2007.

Did you attend art school or receive any formal training in visual art?

I applied twice to art school, and twice I decided not to go — this was after I retired from physical therapy. I got involved with classes, workshops, and found the beauty in intense workshops [at Nancy Crow Timber Frame Barn retreats] ..… I decided I to use whatever money I’d spend on college to take workshops, and I probably took 20 weeks of classes there. I studied with Nancy. I studied with Carol Soderlund [2]. I studied with Claire Benn [3]. David Hornung on design [4]. Whatever I felt I was missing I sought a teacher I could work with ..… Now I’ve found the beauty of on-line classes, which I can do at home .…. It inspires me to work with other people and to learn different aspects of art that [will] inform my textile [practice].

By going the workshop route, you found specific people to help you address your needs, as they arose — and that’s different from going to college.

Correct. I struggled with starting over in college. Not that I didn’t need the skill set … But I just wanted to work with textile.

What is it about textiles that is such a passion for you?

A quilt is something we ….. associate with comfort, warmth, clothing. It’s so basic to our needs ….. It intrigues me that you can manipulate it so many different ways: to be a utilitarian object or an art object — something that’s hung on the wall for people to appreciate ……

How did workshops help you learn the craft and skill behind your medium?

Nancy assumes, when you take her class, you know how to sew, you know how to piece, you know the technical aspects behind [quilt making]. She’s giving you design exercises, and ….. assignments that might be done in a day ….. or a week. You are expected to produce it — much like you’d have to do in college. She would work us through [the assignments]. She’d help us critique it so we would learn how to critique it ourselves … and we’d have to learn how to present, in class, as well. I [consider this] my master’s degree in art, over six or seven years. I can’t think of a better place to do it, with people who are passionate about your same medium versus being in an art college where you might have one fiber artist and 20 other kinds of artists. That’s not to say I don’t respect what I’ve gotten in a painting class ….. I use other mediums to learn more about [visual] art. And it helps me figure out where my textiles belong, or don’t belong, in the fine art world.

Most people understand the quilt as an object that’s inextricably connected with the home, with utilitarian comfort. Talk about the ways you’ve been able to help people develop a new and broader understanding of the quilt as you’re working with it, beyond its domestic context.

I feel the best way I can do this is to be at an exhibition, answering peoples’ questions. Most people are stunned to see a quilt on the wall. I just got done with a solo exhibit [October 16 -17 at the Old Art Building, Leland, Michigan]. And, even in the midst of COVID, people were enthralled to see color, to see pattern, to see texture, to see a design hung on the wall in the form of a quilt. They had so many questions: Why is a quilt on the wall? Why do you feel it’s a piece of art? They had great questions. And, by talking with people, by entering exhibits, by entering ArtPrize [5] — I was in ArtPrize five times — I always jumped on the volunteer opportunities to talk [to visitors] about what I do and how I do it. Would you like to give a demonstration? Would you like to give a small workshop? I love showing people what I do because it’s different.

Many people believe that Capital “A” Art is only painting, sculpture and architecture. It often comes as a revelation that fabric is used the same way as paint is. All the same principles about color and design apply.

I am using those same principles: Is my design too heavy on one side? Am I using line in a manner that conveys something? So, I’m using all the design criteria that any other artist would use to look at it to see if it’s a composition worth completing. Sometimes they don’t all get finished, and that’s OK. You’re working through to get to a place you want to be next …..

Describe your studio/work space.

Colleen’s studio. Pictured: A composition in process on her side-by-side design wall panels.

I’ve worked in lots of different places and spaces. What I need to work with is my sewing machine, a cutting table, a rotary cutter, thread; and what I really need is my 4ft x 8ft design walls — I call them “walls” but they’re actually 2-inch insulation panels that you’d use in home building, covered in flannel. I love having two of them side by side. I can work really large … or I can have two pieces playing off each other. I really like having two pieces [to] work with at once. If I get stuck by one I can move onto another. I have the luxury in Grand Rapids of having a big, finished space above my garage ….. but do I need all that space to create? Heck no. My sewing machine gets packed up when we go on vacation. I can work anywhere I can put a machine on and off a table ….. When we had a second home in Vermont, I had an old barn where I dyed my fabrics outside ….. I’m finding the water’s really hard, up north in Leland, so I’m dyeing most of my fabric in Grand Rapids.

Talk about making your own materials. Why are you going to the trouble versus ordering fabric from a commercial supplier?

Pulling a palette of hand-dyed fabrics.

First of all, I feel like I can get a wider range of colors. I can manipulate the dye recipes to ….. create my own palette of colors. I can dye a gradation of fabrics from very, very light to very, very dark —  a 10-value range of fabrics ….. I love that process of the dye hitting the cloth. It’s a really enjoyable part of the process even though it’s exceedingly time-consuming .…. Normally I’d dye a couple hundred yards of fabric a year. That’s a lot of fabric ……

Do you work primarily in solid colors?

I have taken some surface design classes …. but I feel like surface design is a whole other thing I could get caught up in, and go down a rabbit hole, and not come back to my solids. I feel very comfortable in solids. Love them.

What themes/ideas are the focus of your work?

I have a couple series I’ve worked on. My first series was called Roof Lines. It all started when I was super intrigued, interested, obsessed with the conservatory building at Meijer Gardens [6]. The architecture of that building intrigued me — the way the light played off the beams, the different roof lines, how that building looked so natural in its setting. I started off with that and became in tune to roof lines of a country village, of a little cottage tucked into a mountain, the roof line of a cottage on a lake. There’s about 25 pieces in that series. Did I wake up one day and say I want to do that? No. I just stumbled on it ….. Occasionally one or two pieces a year just pop out, and they’re “Roof  Lines” again ….. They’re shapes that are recognizable to other people, too, and they relate to them — I never really thought about that as I was making them.

Colleen Kole, Time Fragments #2, hand dyed cottons, machine pieced and quilted, 84″ w x 86″ l, 2015.

Time Fragments [is another series]. It’s a tie-in between memory loss and the fragments of time that people use or lose over time. That’s my favorite to still work with. It a simple motif that can be altered over and over again, skewing it, stretching it out, pulling apart …… but there’s a recognizable line pattern that helps to carry that out.

Is there any memory loss in your own life that prompts this?

Sure. My time as a physical therapist working with geriatric patients with memory loss … working with patients with brain injuries who couldn’t remember the process of doing a task. It’s interesting to me how my old career meshed with my new career to inspire a whole other series.

What prompts the beginning of a project or composition?

Just the fact I have a white [design] wall that needs to be filled. If you’re asking me if I pre-plan a project, I don’t. Some people sketch, and they have ideas and measurements and colors. For me a project starts when I go to my fabric stash, and I start pulling a palette and I pin it up on the wall. I take a look at it in black and white. I take a look at it in color. I remove, I add, I subtract, over and over again until I find a palette I like working with. And maybe I’ll say, “Let try a ‘Roof LInes’ piece today”; or, let’s just join shapes ….. My “sketches” are done on the wall. My sketches aren’t generally done in a sketch book, although I use one. So my sketch could start out in black and white [fabric] on the wall. I’ll sew it together and see how I like the figure-ground relationship, what’s the foreground, the background, do I want to change anything. And then I add color to the next “sketch” and start building from there.

And you can see this more easily in black and white?

Yes. It’s like a drawing. You’re making a sketch in black and white in a sketch book. I’m doing the same thing — just doing it on the wall.

What’s your favorite tool?

Colleen’s rotary cutter — a favorite tool.

My rotary cutter. I use it like a pencil. I don’t use a ruler with it. Sure, I use a ruler at the end to square things up, but I have trained myself to work with a rotary cutter like pencil. I’m slicing through that fabric making the shape I want it to be …..

How do you come up with a title?

Colleen Kole, Neon Lights, hand dyed cottons, machine pieced and quilted, 28″ w X 40.5 l, 2020.

That’s my hardest thing. I think the most on it, and I generally think about it while I’m working on [a composition], and it just comes to me — like the piece I made for the [GAAC’s] Power Tools exhibition [September 11 – November 5, 2020]. I just remember saying “Neon lights, that night of chaos.” ….. I just remember writing that title down. It comes to me generally as I’m working on it: OK, this is the title of my piece, let’s go with that.

What’s the title’s job?

To relate in some way to the viewer what the artist’s intention was.

When did you commit to working with serious [professional] intent?

I think, through the process of taking workshops. When you have a group of people progress through the same exercises and workshops …… When I saw how much those artists work improved or changed or developed, and their voice became recognizable, I thought I’m going to have to work that hard if I’m going to really find my voice. And, I started working anywhere from 20 to 40 to 50 hours a week in my studio, like it was a job …..

What kind of time do you put into your practice now?

The pandemic really killed me off; that’s why I signed up for [an on-line] sketchbook course, so I have some rhythm to my day …… On a good studio week I would be up at 8 am and work for six hours in the studio, then move onto everyday life chores. It also depends on what I’m making at the time. If I’m really into a piece I can pull some of those Nancy Crow Workshop hours and work for 60 hours a week just because the piece is moving along ….. Or if there’s a big exhibition coming along, but I don’t necessarily create for an exhibition. I don’t say, “Here comes Quilt National [7] in two years; I need to just create my pieces specifically for that exhibition.” ….. I generally just keep working ….. It’s my career. It’s my job. It’s what I do.

….. After I do a big piece [e.g. 8ft x 8ft] there’s down time. Your creative brain needs rest. I’ve learned not be panicked by that, but just to be peaceful and do so other basic tasks in my studio. It’s OK not to have that intensive creative energy. It’s OK to have those lulls.

What role does social media play in your practice?

I do like to use social media to inform people about what exhibits I might be in, what I’m working on. It’s nice to have a community of people out there that share your interests, but it’s also a way of educating people about what you’re doing. So I use Instagram. Facebook. But I primarily use Instagram. It’s an easy way to share your work and get it out there to a large volume of people.

Is it a way to market your work?

No. I wish I could say I’m a great marketer but I’m not. I’ve actually had someone buy a piece by posting it, but I don’t do it for that purpose. It’s more of a sharing.

What do you believe is the visual artist’s role in the world?

I feel that it’s a way of: a.) sharing with the viewer how the artist see thing; b.) the beauty in the world through color, pattern, texture, repetition, theme. I’m pretty intent on sharing the beauty of the world. That’s not to say that some of my pieces don’t have a strong statement about [social] or political themes, but that isn’t the primary part ….. To me, the world really needs to see color and beauty right now, and I’m OK with that. I’m pretty passionate about that. I’m even more so intent on that after seeing peoples’ reaction to art in October [at her Old Art Building exhibition] when they hadn’t [directly experienced] art since [the] February [COVID shut down]. I was thrilled to see I could give them little bit of peace, a little bit of happiness and joy through [directly] viewing art. I don’t think I’d taken that seriously — how important that is to people …..

How does the world find its way into your work?

Travel — primarily throughout the United States is what I’ve done. We lived in Vermont, so mountains and meadows and nature. I love my garden, so color from my gardens. The bright, deep, rich colors in nature. The patterning you see in nature when you take a walk. The patterns that the waves make on the beach. The patterns that the rocks make along the shoreline.

Some of your work is topical.

Colleen Kole, Beach Daze, hand-dyed cottons, machine stitched and quilted, 30.5″ w X 40.5″ l, 2018

Oh, Beach Daze. When I visit an area, I want to find out what’s happening in that area of the world — weather-wise, climate change-wise. And I was so disturbed by the Red tide [8], and how it changed the tourist industry, how it changed the ability for people to be outside and breathe the air outside, by man’s neglect of taking care of the chemicals he added to the water. I was so disturbed by the fact we might not be able to go to the beach and see all the umbrellas up, and have this wonderful time breathing fresh air outside in the sunshine ….. I didn’t make that piece because I was disturbed by it. That piece was one I was already working on, and how it related to what I was seeing …..

How does living in Northern Michigan inform and influence your creative practice?

My primary residence is in Grand Rapids, Michigan. We bought a second home in Leland two years ago, knowing little about Leland when we bought the house. We just found a house in town that was close to water and said, “OK.” Exploring somewhere new and different always informs your work, whether it be moving your desk to a coffee shop or moving homes ….. My colors are changing a bit from what I was using before. Little bit deeper blues and greens. I feel like [Northern Michigan] is just starting to impact my work ….. There’s a community of artists living in Northern Michigan, and I’m just starting to meet them. Artist appreciate it up here …… It’s another source of inspiration, to see how they work as career artists, to see how they’re informed by their environment, to share exhibits with them, meet them at exhibits.

Do you think you’d be creating different work if you didn’t live in Northern Michigan?

No. I don’t think so. There’s lots of landscape artists in Northern Michigan. I haven’t found a lot of abstract artists up here ….. I want to continue my abstract work, and I feel the way [Northern Michigan] will influence me is my sense of color. More earth tones. But maybe not. Maybe I just stick with what I’m doing. I’m open. But because of COVID ….. It’s not like I’ve had a chance to explore like I would have normally ….. I don’t feel like my work hasn’t gotten respect because it’s not [about the] landscape. It’s a subject that just familiar to this location. It’s beautiful. What’s not to like about the landscape. It’s why we’re here.

So, the way Northern Michigan is influencing your practice is how your palette is changing. You’re bringing in more of the colors that are indigenous to this part of the world. What was the palette you worked in before you starting spending so much time up here?

Deep jewel tones. Bright garden colors. I spent my summers in Vermont — yes, there’s rolling hills, there’s cows, there’s meadows, but people love their gardens there because the winters were so long. I find that people here, their gardens are hidden by long driveways and the woods, or their proximity to the lakes, so you’re not getting a peek into what that person’s garden might look like …..

You said you didn’t know any practicing studio artists when you were growing up.

Yes. That’s true. But I was on the [high school] yearbook, and would help the photographer develop film ….. To see the image hop out on a photograph is probably akin to how I feel when I dye my fabrics and the color is revealed on the cloth .…. That led me to believe I might have a little creative spirit in me.

Who has had the greatest and most lasting influence on your work and practice?

Probably Nancy Crow, and the teachers she has lined up to teach at her facility. They’re top notch ….. Nancy’s knowledge of the art behind quilt making as a medium is unparalleled because she has worked in this way for so many years. She’s a natural colorist, so she can point you in the right direction if you don’t have a clue about color, and why it’s not working in your composition. She’s blunt. She’s direct. And some people have a hard time dealing with that, but I don’t have time to waste. I would much rather know my weaknesses and work on them than not know them at all. I like her directness. I like her work ethic. She doesn’t stop. She keeps going. She keeps seeking improvement.

To whom do you go when you need honest feedback about your work?

There are three artists that I’ve grown up with in the last 10, 12 years, who are working as I am. If I get really stuck, I can send them a photo ….. and have them take a look at it and critique it for me. They give me honest feedback without giving too much of the secret away of what I have to work on myself. They give me honest feedback, but I don’t want the whole answer on how to fix my composition. I want to figure it out myself, so if they just give me enough clues ….. I don’t want anyone to re-do my art for me. I want to be able to figure out a solution to the problem.

What’s the benefit of that?

So I can grow as an artist.

What is the role of the exhibition in your practice?

I do enjoy exhibiting my work. It’s a primary way to get my artwork out there. It’s a great way to see how your medium fits into the fine art world. I’ve learned so much being part of a multidisciplinary art exhibit versus just a fiber exhibit …… To see your work among other media, it either fails or it shines, and only because it was a worthy design or composition to begin with — regardless of what medium it is: How does it stand as a piece of art?


Footnotes

1: Nancy Crow is a visual artist. She is a pioneer and leading figure in the modern quilt movement of the 1970s and 1980s, and is also known for her development of certain techniques to allow more spontaneity and expression. She resides and teaches in Baltimore, Ohio. Nancy Crow, an illustrated survey of her work, was published in 2006.

2: Carol Soderlund has taught the art and technique of hand dying for more than three decades. She teaches through the US and Canada.

3: Claire Benn lives and works in Surrey, UK. She is also an author, curator and educator in art textiles.

4: David Hornung is a painter, former quilt maker and professor of art. He is currently on the faculty of Adelphi University on Long Island, NY.

5: ArtPrize is an international art competition and festival in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was founded in 2009 by Rick DeVos, the son of Republican gubernatorial candidate Dick DeVos and former United States Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos.

6: Frederik Meijer Gardens is a 158-acre horticulture and sculpture park in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It opened in 1995.

7: Quilt National is a juried biennial exhibition of contemporary quilts first held in 1979. The primary exhibition is held at the Dairy Barn Art Center in Athens, Ohio in odd-numbered years.

8: Red tide is the term used for harmful algal blooms that occur when colonies of algae — simple plants that live in the sea and freshwater — grow out of control while producing toxic or harmful effects on people, fish, shellfish, marine mammals, and birds.

Learn more about Colleen Kole here.

Sarah Bearup-Neal develops and curates Glen Arbor Arts Center exhibitions. She maintains a studio practice focused of fiber and collage.

Creativity Q+A with Nick Preneta

Nick Preneta, 37, works in wood. Green wood. Mostly with his chain saw. Notching and carving and creating marks, both intentional and serendipitous. The Leelanau County artist, trained as a furniture builder, began to explore the aesthetics of non-functional wood shapes and objects when he started looking at the scraps he was generating. This interview took place in September 2021. It was conducted by Sarah Bearup-Neal, GAAC Gallery Manager, and edited for clarity.


Describe the medium in which you work.

I work in wood. Generally when I start working with wood, it’s green wood, so there’s a lot of moisture in it, and that’s a key part of my process: starting with green wood.

Why is that key?

Drying wood in a wood pile.

I explore the medium itself, and structural elements. Working with green wood allows me to dive deep into the structure of the wood, and explore how it changes as it loses moisture during the drying process … Different species of wood act differently during the drying process, and even the conditions the wood is under affects it. That’s what I explore. I make “suggestions” to the wood while I’m working it, by making cuts in the wood, and seeing how what I do to the wood will affect the visual outcome as it dries. I don’t know what’s going to happen — as far as the wood changing after I cut it. I look at the grain, and I have a guess, but sometimes I’m surprised. Those could be good surprises or bad surprises.

I’m really interested that you factor in things that are out of your control.

That’s really what draws me to the work I do: being able to experience something that’s out of my control. It’s a living material. Even after its cut down it can still be “living.”

What draws you to the medium in which you work?

Wood is something I’ve always been drawn to, since childhood. It goes back to playing in the woods, and making forts with sticks, making crude play toys with sticks. How I work with it has evolved over the years.

 Did you attend art school or receive any formal training in visual art?

I studied at Northern Michigan University [2002-2006]. I received a BFA — it was a concentration in furniture design. I had been accustomed to woodworking before; but [school] opened up concepts of visual presentation, conceptual ideas and social implications.

What do you mean by “social implications”? 

Saw Operator Was Not Successful At Following The Planned Cut Lines, Beech, 8″ w x 5.5 h x 5.5″ d

My initial goal in going to school for furniture design was to learn how to make furniture, and make useful things for peoples’ homes. But when I was there I was exposed to a lot of different studio furniture makers. So I found myself being drawn to creating forms that weren’t practical at all for making furniture; but I really liked the form. And the fact that I could make this form out of wood. That was a big mind shift for me: You can still make a piece of furniture, but it might not be functional as a piece of furniture.  It could be a dining room table, but it could be saying more than this is just a surface for you to  eat off of. I’m thinking of a dining room table, classically constructed and [the artist] hand-drove a nail right in the top of it [so the nail is sticking up and out of the surface] … It creates an emotional response in the viewer. At that point in my life that was really intriguing to me. I’d never explored forms like that. It was a mind-opening experience for me.

How did your formal training affect your development as a creative practitioner?

It was what I needed at the time. It exposed me to new ideas. As far as the work I do now, that was the first introduction I had to working with green wood. I developed techniques at college that I use if I get stuck with visual problems … The whole university scene of being around other people making things, having constant feedback: I realized that that’s very important.

You’re living in a place where there are a lot of creative people, but you’re not bumping into them every day like you’d would in college.

You’re not in the same studio they are. I think it’s really important, but I don’t really share a lot of my work in process with other artists. It’s something I need to do more of; but it’s something I haven’t incorporated into my work.

Describe your studio/work space.

I live on an old farm. I converted an old outbuilding for my studio.  It’s approximately 16 ft x 30 ft. When I first converted it, I was still in the mindset of making furniture. So, it’s a practical work space. This suits my needs for now. I suppose, if it were a different situation, my work would be a little bit different. For instance: I work with green logs, but the space isn’t conducive to bringing big logs [into the studio], so I also work outside. I do a lot of the rough shaping outside with the chainsaw. Once the pieces of wood are broken down, I bring them inside and work in the studio. Bringing big, heavy, bulky pieces of work into my studio is cumbersome, so the scale of my work is smaller than that.

What woods are you using?

Whatever comes my way that I’m interested in. What I’m using right now is beech — there’s a lot of Beech that’s available because of the fungus. People are taking it down. I use ash — [available] because of the emerald ash borer. On my own property, I have a lot of Black Locust trees. That wood is very intriguing to me. I haven’t done a lot of it in my art work, but I have a great resource when I’m ready to do that.

What is it about Black Locust that intrigues you?

Black Locust.

Black locust is an invasive, which is intriguing to me on its own, because it’s seen as undesirable. It’s also very useful. Farmers used Black Locust traditionally, and people are stylizing Black Locust now. It’s tough wood, very dense, and the grain structure is very interesting to me.

How does your studio/work space facilitate or affect your work?

Part of it is the space. I’m not able to drive a piece of machinery right up to it, to bring logs inside [the studio]. What I bring in, I have to carry, and it has to be small enough to get it through the door. The tools I have, as well, limit the size of the work. When I first set up my studio I had a small band saw, which cut a height of 6 inches. That was a big constraint on the size of my work. Recently, this past year, I upgraded to a different size band saw so now I an cut double that height. I feel like that’s going to make a big difference in my work, as far as what I’m able to do [regarding] size.  I’m excited to see how that affect the work and changes the scale of things …

Is your studio a year-round space?

Yes, it is. It’s an old pig barn. When I converted it I put insulation in and I’ve got a wood stove as my heat source.

What themes/ideas are the focus of your work?

What I focus on in my work is very minimal aspects — I would call most of my work minimalist, and that plays well with wood. As a material, it’s more about highlighting the qualities in the wood, especially as it changes during the drying process. That’s what I explore: the structure of the wood itself and what happens after it’s a tree, and it [arrives at a the point when it’s] dried and seen as a commercial material that can be used to make things. I want to highlight the in-between part, or the life the wood has after it’s [done] living, how it chooses to change.

When you have a piece installed in an exhibition, is it still drying?

Not usually. Most of the moisture has left it at that point. Depending on how I treat it, some of my pieces I leave raw, unfinished. And some I put a finish on. The raw pieces will [absorb] moisture in the atmosphere. They’ll change slightly. Up until now, they’ve all been dried, but I do think it would be interesting to do an exhibit that is an experience thing, where you get to see the whole process if you’re there every day. You can come in every week and see how the wood changes week to week. That’s a goal of mine in the future if I find the right spot for that.

It’s a great idea. We all come to an exhibition being trained to think the pieces we’re looking at are “finished.” What you’re suggesting with the show like that subverts that shared understanding of what work in an exhibition is supposed to be.

My work is 3D. It’s kind of finished. If I found a way to present my work that it’s more of an experience, that would be really interesting to me. Sometime when I cut wood and I observe the changes, the piece — when it’s dried completely — isn’t as interesting at that point as it was [in wet form]. An exhibition that somehow captures that … We live in an age when that’s possible, with technology and sharing. That’s a whole different realm I haven’t explored …

What prompts the beginning of a project or composition?

Varying Perspectives, Ash, 6″ w x 21″ h, 2″ d.

A lot of times it’s the wood that I have available. From there, either the wood will inspire what direction I want to go in, sometimes it’s the idea of exploring the aspects within the wood: I want to explore a certain form and the cuts that I’ll make to the form. It’s the material or the idea that will prompt. It depends upon what’s available.

Do you ever stumble across a piece of wood and say, “A ha! That has possibilities.”

I saw this log and said I want to do something with that. It had a lot of different branches coming off the main trunk. I thought it was really interesting. I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, but I wanted to work with it.

How much pre-planning do you do in advance of beginning a new project or composition?

Not much. Sometimes I will have an idea … But I can’t really predict what’s going to happen. A lot of the time it’s just that cutting multiple forms that are the same with slightly different variations to the cuts or the shape or the grain within the piece, and seeing how that reacts, and then reacting to what the wood does. I liken it to a conversation. I have an idea and throw it out there …

Do you work on more than one project at a time?

Sometimes I do. It depends on what’s going on as far as what I have to work with, and what else is going on in my life. It’s not something that needs to happen. The nature of the process allows for that — as far as the time it takes from starting a project, to the wood drying, to continuing to work on it after the wood has dried. There’s multiple months between those two points. I can start something, and then work on a different idea.

You’ve got things in different stages of readiness?

Yes. It’s kind of seasonal, too. I do a lot of the rough shaping of the forms in the wintertime. I find the wood dries best because of the dryer air. Toward spring and summer is when I refine those shapes and forms.

Your work is tied to the natural world in so many ways. Your materials come out of your own woods. Your processes are tied to the seasons — you do certain things because the weather has a different effect on the materials in the winter than in the summer. It’s an interesting way of working.

I do it because it makes sense. It works for me. I’ve thought of ways to dry wood in the summer when the humidity’s higher, but I haven’t needed to … It is a nice rhythm to just work with nature and the environment the way it goes.

Do you work in a series?

I definitely explore the same idea over time. I feel like its the same idea I explore over and over again with slightly different variations. I do it because I don’t know what’s going to happen …

That’s an interesting thing about your practice: You don’t try to control the materials. You are very democratic. You allow your materials to have a say.

It’s a very individualistic process. I want to know [of the wood] what are you going to do? And, what are YOU going to do?

What’s your favorite tool?

Nick’s chain saw.

The chain saw is my favorite tool … This tool is used to take down the trees. What I like about it is similar to what happens within my piece. [The chainsaw] makes cut very quickly; but there’s a lot of interesting details that comes from that tool. That’s what I really like: the uniqueness of the results.

Do you use a sketchbook? Work journal?

I do, a little bit, not extensively. What I end up drawing is just different variations of the same thing. My work is nothing I can predict what’s going to happen to each piece, so I can draw ideas of forms I’d like to see, but that’s all they are: drawing. It’s not anything I can really control … It’s not a big planning tool for me. I use it for inspiration. Just drawing out forms I’d like to see, and how can I get this form.

How did you think about hand work before you began practicing seriously?

I was always intrigued with craftsmanship and things constructed with intent. Even in grade school, using scissors and crayons, I was pretty controlling in that work and precise — you know, coloring within the lines. When I was younger I valued controlled skill in handwork. As I’ve grown, I’ve let [the need to control] go.

Why is making things by-hand important to you?

I think it’s a great involvement for the brain to be able to make something with your hands, just to be able to successfully create something with your body is great.  I encourage my children to make things. It’s what kids do: exploring, playing and exploring with their hands …. It’s a connection to your physical world.

You work with machines; but it’s at human scale so your hands don’t get overridden by the machines. 

Yes. True.

I think handwork is so important because it keeps us honest about what our powers really are.

In woodworking, working with hand tools you might see more clues of that in the work.

Why does working with our hands remain valuable and vital to modern life? Or, not?

The Observer, Ash, 11″ w x 14″ h x 11″ d.

It goes back to my draw to the material I work with. We have bodies and hands and we need to be connected with what we can create with them — not just what we can create with our mind.

How do you come up with a title?

My titles are based on the thought process I go through while making the piece. Sometimes my titles are suggestive of the process — this was a struggle for me to get to this point; or there’s something that reminds me of the form I’m working on.

What’s the job of a title?

To give a clue to the viewer of what your intent was. To let the viewer know what was going through your mind when you made it.

When did you commit to working with serious intent?

Cutting Practice #459, spalted Beech, whitewash, 4.5″ w by 4.5″ h x 2″ d

Sometimes I feel like I have to re-commit. I remember the first time when I shifted from the idea of trying to make furniture to more sculptural pieces. At the time I was doing a lot of carpentry work. I was  building cupolas for a barn. It had rafters that were curved [cut from straight pieces of lumber] … After I’d cut 20-some rafters I was cleaning up the work area and I looked at this piece of [guide] wood I’d laid all the rafters on to cut [curves], and I thought to myself that I really like this piece of wood more than the cupola. [The guide wood] had all these lines [saw cuts] made by this tool in the process. That was the point I decided to really pursue sculptural forms. When I was in school, I always found myself drawing these forms that were very impractical as furniture. I struggled with that internally, [asking], “Why are you doing that? No one could every use this. Is this going to be valuable to people? Are people going to want to buy this?” But, that point, when I was cutting rafters for the cupola, I realized I wanted to make sculptural stuff. I didn’t want to make “useful” things. I wanted to explore making something to look at.

What role does social media play in your practice?

I don’t exhibit a whole lot — maybe 1 or 2 times a year — so social media is a way for me to get work out there, and get feedback during those times when I don’t have work hanging in galleries. I go through spurts of being very active on social media, and not being active at all. It’s a good way for me to get feedback from people. It’s really the main source of seeing what other people are doing.

What’s social media’s influence on the work you make?

There’s no artist that’s not influenced by [others’ work]. I see what other people are doing with wood. I see forms and lines, and I put those in my wheelhouse. It all affects me; but what kind of affect? I don’t know.

What do you believe is the visual artist’s role in the world?

To share the human experience in whatever way they individualize it … It connects people to shared emotions shared experience.

What part or parts of the world find their way into your work?

I think the history of working with the material, and what other people who’ve worked with wood have experienced before. It’s something that influences me. The historical method of woodworking before power saws was handwork. Those woodworkers found it a lot easier to work with green wood, so they capitalized on that. They worked the wood while it was green, and they knew it was going to change as it dried. So, some people started thinking about that … The thing that makes it way into my work is that basic, first knowledge of wood and how to work with it; what it’s properties are; and how to use those properties to get a result that’s something you want.

How does living in Northern Michigan inform and influence your creative practice?

There’s a lot of trees around us. If I wasn’t living here, I’d like to think I’d still be exploring the same thing. I live in a community, and my social media has some influence on me; but I draw inspiration from the landscape; but I feel I would do that anywhere. It goes back to my thoughts on observing the world, and finding beauty in small details. I don’t need to live here for my work; but for my sanity, I do. I guess that would affect my work … I choose to be here. This is my home. This is what I love. It fits me. It makes me happy, and that’s how it affects my work. It provides a supportive environment.

Did you know any practicing studio artists when you were growing up?

I guess I didn’t realize they were practicing studio artists. I had a neighbor who was an artist; but it didn’t dawn on me what that meant. He made dulcimers. He was a professor at Kent State University in the art department.

Who has had the greatest and most lasting influence on your work and practice?

I go back to the historical references. The scores of woodworkers before me who have explored the material. Those who work with wood, and push its boundaries for things other than a useful material to make functional things with.

Where or to whom do you go when you need honest feedback about your work?

I don’t do that a lot.

What is the role of the exhibiting in your practice?

It’s to share what I really enjoy and find value in with other people. It’s important to me to get my work out there.


See more of NIck Preneta’s work here.

Watch this time-lapse video of one of Nick’s pieces moving from green to dry.

Sarah Bearup-Neal develops and curates Glen Arbor Arts Center exhibitions. She maintains a studio practice focused on fiber and collage.

 

Creativity Q+A with Shanny Brooke

Shanny Brooke, 42, is a classically-trained singer who found her way into visual art + painting after she hit a career/life roadblock. A package of student canvases and a tin of children’s watercolor paint opened a new door, which included opening the doors to Higher Art Gallery in Traverse City, Michigan in 2016. The gallery is Shanny’s attempt to balance the scales regarding who is represented, and what subjects get wall space. In between, she paints. This interview took place in October 2021. It was conducted by Sarah Bearup-Neal, GAAC Gallery Manager, and edited for clarity.

What is the medium in which you work.

Mostly oil [paint] and cold wax.

What does that mean?

A lot of people, right now, are interested in understanding the difference between encaustic and cold wax painting. Cold wax [medium], I like to tell people, is more about consistency. When you get a new jug of cold wax, it kind of looks like Crisco ….  It’s like softened butter. You add it to your oil paint. You can increase the translucency, the transparency of the oil paint with it depending on how much you add. Some artists put it right on top of [the painting]. There’s all kinds of uses for it … I use a palette knife. That’s the best way to use anything with cold wax. You could use a brush, but it tends to gum up the brush.

By using a palette knife, do you get a different appearance on the surface of the canvas?

I like things to be more textural. So, with a palette knife, you can really get that. You can cut into things more. I like things to be angular.

[NOTE: After the initial interview, when asked what she meant by cutting “into things more,” Shanny emailed this response: “Oil paint, (especially), when mixed with cold wax, develops a natural barrier between each layer. If I wait for the right amount of time, usually a few hours or sometimes overnight, I can use the tip of a pointy palette knife, or a clay tool, or any tipped object to carve away the newest layer to reveal what is underneath. Sometimes, if I want the under layers to be very ‘clean,’ I will go back over them with a Q Tip, which really gets all the paint residue off to allow the underneath to show through. I also like to make scratchy lines all around the subjects to create less perfection. I remember doing this in kindergarten, too, just while coloring. I think this is what I like most about the medium of oil and cold wax, is that the messier and less perfect a painting is, the more successful I consider it.”]

 

What draws you to the medium in which you work?

Cold wax medium.

The fact that I can leave it for a long time and come back to it. I like to scrape things away and reveal what’s underneath certain colors. That’s easy to do with cold wax. That’s one of the things that draws me to cold wax. I never seem to have enough time to sit down and complete something. I work here at the gallery a lot, so I get interrupted a lot. I have to have that freedom to be able to come back to something.

It’s also interesting that you need time to think about your composition and the ideas in it. 

Yes. For sure. As artists, we spend a lot of time working on a section or an area, then you leave it, go get a cup of coffee, come back and just stare at it. I’ll have my easel next to me here at my desk [in the gallery] and I’ll be answering emails or something, and keep looking at it. [Taking a pause] promotes more thought about what’s going to happen next.

Did you attend art school or receive any formal training in visual art?

No. I have not. I did go to art school, but for music. I was a classically trained singer, and never had any inclination to draw or paint. In fact, I was terrified of it. I never thought I’d be good at it. I graduated [in 1997] from Interlochen Arts Academy for voice. And then, I went to Peabody Conservatory in Baltimore [1998 – 2000] for voice for two years, and then I and dropped out. I have severe stage fright, debilitating … It was really bad. Once you get to the college level of classical music, everyone is amazing. You’re not the big fish in the little pond anymore. [Between] that horrible monster of comparing myself, and trying to be as good as everybody else, I couldn’t take the pressure.

How did you learn to paint?

I grew up as a kid in the restaurant industry. My dad owned a restaurant and he would always take me to work with him. I always loved to cook. When I lived in Florida, I started my own personal chef business. My dad lived here in Elk Rapids [Michigan], and he came up with this crazy idea that we were going open up a restaurant together, and we did [Regalo opened in 2008]. After a year-and-a-half of being really successful we realized having a business together was not a good idea for our relationship. I was super depressed. I’d left behind my business in South Florida, which was doing great. Left all my friends. Moved up here to Northern Michigan. Didn’t know anybody. This was in 2008. I just felt this urge I wanted to be creative in order to pull myself out of what felt like a huge loss. It was like a divorce. I just went to Michael’s and got a cheap pack of canvases and kid’s paints. I started doing little paintings, and everybody said, “Oh these are good. You should sell them!” I didn’t but I thought I really like this. It made me feel really good. Without sounding cliche, it really was the power of art that pulled me out of that hole I was in. Shortly after that I met my partner — whom I’m with now. And she’s a dog trainer, so we had dogs coming and going all the time. As an easy subject, I started painting her dogs that were always around. Her clients started asking me if they could pay me to paint their dog. That’s where it all started. I started doing these dog portraits, and it led to other things.

Describe your studio/work space.

Still Life With Dog: Shanny’s home studio with Hugh, the dog. Hugh has his own chair in the studio, and a few extra pillows so he can see out the window.

Right now my studio — I call it the nomadic studio. In the months that I’m really busy at [Higher Art Gallery], I can’t paint here. So, I have this little nook in my kitchen with windows. I put my canvas on the wall in the kitchen. Or, I use a little easel on a little table. It’s very cramped, it’s not ideal, but it works. When I’m here in the off season, I have all my paints in the office, and I have big easel I keep here next to the desk, and I just paint here at my desk. When people come in, we talk, and I just keep painting.

How does your studio/work space facilitate your work? Affect your work?

It affects me negatively and positively. I’ve learned how to work efficiently in a small space. I try to stay organized. I don’t have room to spread out and be messy — like I would love to do. Obviously, I can’t do that at the gallery. There’s [other people’s] art everywhere, and I have to stay neat and tidy. It gives me a feeling of restriction. One of the positive things is feeling like I’m forced to paint here while at work has helped me to get over my shyness. In order for me to produce art work, I have to be able to engage with people at the same time. They’re curious. They want to see what  you’re working on. It doesn’t bother me anymore. At home working in that small nook in my kitchen — I hate working at home. I’m constantly being interrupted. And then I also feel the sense of, “Oh, I’m home. I’m going to wait for this spot [on the canvas] to dry, so I’m going to do some laundry,” and the next thing you know you’re tired and don’t want to continue with the painting. I’m hoping to have a designated space of my own soon.

When you talk about how your “studio” in your gallery affects your work, you said it has forced you to get over your shyness. Is that about having to engage with all the strangers who come through the front door?

I’m outgoing when it comes to that. My paintings go through this awful stage where they’re just bad and you don’t want anyone to see them yet. They’re going through this ugly duckling stage while you’re working on it. I’ve just had to get over that. I’ve just had to not worry about what someone is thinking while I’m working on a painting, while we’re chit-chatting. But I’ve found it’s a positive thing. When people walk into the gallery and see an artist working on something, it’s like an ice breaker. It relaxes people. It gives you an introduction, a way to talk to people. And then they ask if I have finished work in the gallery, and I can show them.

What themes/ideas are the focus of your work?

Saint Francesca II, oil, 48″ h x 30″ w, Shanny Brooke.

I’m an emotional person. I internalize a lot of stuff. I think getting my feelings out with a narrative on a canvas helps me work through my own stuff. Also, I’m a very nostalgic person. I had a close relationship with my grandmother. A very bad relationship with my mother. A lot of time, who and what I paint — my subjects — have a lot of of metaphor-slash-symbolism for these things. I tend to paint women because I’m in a relationship with a woman. My subjects tend to be two women. It’s what I relate to in life.

What prompts the beginning of a project or composition?

So many things. I’m literally surrounded by art all day every day. Sometimes it can be something as simple as one of my artists I represent brings in a piece, and I’m obsessed with the colors [they’re using]. I love looking around at the color combinations or composition of an abstract painting, and [then] apply it to a figurative painting. Lots of time I’ll start working on a figure with no real idea of where it’s going, and then a dog will come with it. I like painting birds. Women and birds. I paint a lot of women holding eggs. I went through this weird thing when I turned 40. I was like, “Oh god, I’ve haven’t had kids,” and so I painted a lot of women with eggs because I was feeling really weird about not having children. Was I regretting it? Not regretting it? It’s usually something deep-seated in me that has to come out.

How much pre-planning do you do in advance of beginning a new project or composition?

Now, in the last two year, I do a lot more than I used to do. I never ever, until two years ago, had a sketch book. It’s so ridiculous. Everything in my head, I’d just start on a canvas and finish it. Now, I do have a sketch book and try to sketch out ideas. I get annoyed when I forget them. That helps me practice for what’s going to be on the canvas. It was really always because I was afraid of drawing. I thought I would be so terrible at it. It actually turns out that I’m not that bad as I thought, and I really enjoy it. It’s relaxing. I plan things out loosely with a painting, and then, usually, other things will start to appear in the painting midway through.

Do you work on more than one project at a time?

No. I’ve tried. I get so jealous of artists who can have multiple things going on in their studio. I really have the ability to work on one thing at a time.

Do you work in a series?

I did when Michelle Tock York and I had that show over the summer, Heroines, Real And Imagined [August 5 – September 5, 2021 at Higher Art]. That was the first time I’d tried to discipline myself to work in a themed series. And, I didn’t like it. So, no. I don’t really. As I’m working other ideas come into my head and I no longer want to do this. I need a break from it. I just get bored.

What’s your favorite tool?

Favorite tools.

Palette knives. I use credit cards a lot to scrape. Those are good for wiping away paint to reveal what’s underneath. To get a really clean look [at what’s underneath] I use a lot of clay tools.

Why is making-by-hand important to you?

It’s important to me because I don’t know what else I could do that would alleviate this feeling I get inside when I’ve gone too long without using paint and doing something on a canvas. I get really irritable, and not in a good space when I haven’t made something with my hands.

Why does making things by-hand remain valuable to modern life?

Because we live in this society where everything needs to be done so quickly, and spit out so that people are happy. Making something by hand is so much more valuable because, well, it’s one-of-a-kind. And even if the artist makes multiples, it’s still one-of-a-kind because their hands have touched, and that leaves rooms for variations on what might appear to be the same thing. That’s one of the hardest things to get across to people when they’re trying to understand why something costs what it costs. Saying there is only one of something: When you think about it, it’s really pretty powerful when most people buy things now that there are millions of them.

How do you come up with a title?

Solidarity, oil, cold wax, 36″ h x 36″ w, Shanny Brooke.

I love titles. Titles come a lot of times from a song. I used to keep a book in my purse because I’d hear something that was really smart, clever or touching, and I’d write it down and think that that would make a great title for a painting. Titles are usually pretty personal. I don’t love it when I see something titled “No. 20.”  …… I understand why artists do it. I understand why you don’t want to explain to the viewer exactly what they should be thinking. And, you don’t always want to do that. I get it.

What’s the job of a title?

I think, for my paintings, people sometimes look at them and think they’re cutesy or whimsical — which I hate — or something like that. Yes. Sometimes I paint something just to paint it. Most of the time there’s some deeper metaphor in the painting, so I try to not make those metaphors so blatant. They’re a little hidden in the painting, and the title will allude to that

When did you commit to working with serious intent?

About five or six years ago.

What were the circumstances? What prompted that?

When I felt like I needed to [paint], having to do it for my well being.

What role does social media play in your practice?

It plays a big role. I do share a lot of things on social media [Instagram and Facebook]. In terms of the business side of selling my art, I do make sales using social media. It’s a love-hate relationship. I wish I didn’t have to use it. It’s a necessary evil …..

What’s its influence on the work you make?

It’s very convenient to have in your hand a virtual art gallery for the entire world. Almost every artist has social media. Or, if they don’t you can look at gallery accounts and then look at those artists. It’s inspiring. It does have an affect on me, and not just for looking at art, but for learning about new tools, new mediums. So many artists now post videos of themselves making their art. It’s a great way to learn new things.

What do you believe is the visual artist’s/creative practitioner’s role in the world?

On one hand, artists shouldn’t feel like they have to take on having a role. We’re just here to create what moves us, and if it can effect change or move other people in some way, then that’s great; but I don’t feel that that should be our role or responsibility.

What parts of the world find their way into your work?

Beach Body, oil, cold wax, 48″ h x 30″ w, Shanny Brooke.

I think one of the reasons I paint women a lot is not only in response to what has been happening for the last five years. When Trump came into office, I felt like women were under attack all over again. That inspires me to focus more on women. In the smaller, microcosm of that, being a woman gallery owner I feel like I’m constantly questioned and tested by men, male artists and patrons who question my level of knowledge about what I’m doing with my business. I feel like everyday, on the smaller level, I have to face it here, too. I’m friends with other gallery owners in area who are women, and we get together and talk about this all time. It’s a real thing and starts to wear on you … I came in here a few weeks ago, and had a message on the gallery answering machine from a man who went on [such an extended] rant that the answering machine kept on cutting him off. He called back three times to finish his thought, which was all about how I’m on the wrong side of history because I’m choosing to represent mainly female artists; and that I’m part of the problem in this country of dividing men and women, and black and white. It was a really angry message. That was the blown-up version. But I deal with little comments all the time. It, honestly, makes my stance on this even stronger. Obviously there’s a problem if people feel these things, and feel a need to say these things. I’m not going to stop doing what I’m doing.

How does living in Northern Michigan inform and influence your creative practice?

It affects it greatly. I am somebody who’s affected lot by seasonal changes. I tend to paint accordingly. Living in Northern Michigan with the beauty that surrounds us  around affects my painting. In the spring I paint outside, and those things will find their way into my paintings.

Is Northern Michigan reflected in the work you make?

Night Birds, oil, cold wax, 36″ h x 36″ w, Shanny Brooke.

I notice that in the winter when I’m painting more, my paintings tend to be more introspective and quieter because it is quiet. I’m inside more. Definitely in the spring and summer, birds and nature will find their way into my paintings. If I’m home in the summer, I’ll try to paint on my front porch. We live in the woods so it’s easy to take that in, and it comes out in the work.

Would you be doing different work if you did not live in Northern Michigan? Would it have a different appearance?

I think so. For instance: I lived in South Florida for many years. You can look at [the work of an] artist who lives in South Florida, and know they live in South Florida. Oftentimes  they use very different colors: a lot of turquoise, pink, and things like that. After I’ve gone to South Florida, I soak up the colors from around there, and I want to use them. I want to paint them.

Did you know any practicing studio artists when you were growing up?

No.

Who has had the greatest and most lasting influence on your work and practice?

Two people. My partner, Pam. We’ve been together almost since I started painting. I know people who are in relationships with someone who is not an artist, and their partner does not understand, does not give them the solitary time they need to make things, and it’s bad. I’m very lucky that she gives that time even though she doesn’t always understand it. She’s very encouraging, and has always encouraged me: from the artist standpoint to opening the gallery. I think who you’re sharing your life with is a huge component in what you’re able to accomplish.

From an inspirational standpoint, and as a  huge muse for me, is my grandmother [Beverly]. Even though she wasn’t an artist I like to think she was an artist in her spirit. She collected art. She appreciated well-made, fine things, and she filled her home with them. Growing up, all that [sunk into] me. I spent a lot of time with her. When she was alive I was her only grandchild, so she poured it all into me. She was silly, and strange, and different stories she told me shaped the way I see the world today.

Where or to whom do you go when you need honest feedback about your work?

My friend Julie has the best eye for when something isn’t working. I always send her a picture of [a work in progress], and say, “What’s wrong with this?” She immediately will respond with what I need to do to fix it, and it always works.

What is the role of the exhibition in your practice?

It’s important to me. I only exhibit my work here and at Twisted Fish  [in Elk Rapids]. Of course I hear all sorts of feedback when I’m sitting here in the gallery, and people are looking at a painting they have no idea is mine. I know some artists who hide their work away.  And, they’re OK with that. I like to get my work out there. It’s one of the ways I can connect with people in a positive way. It always means so much to me when people look at my work and connect with it on a personal level, they see something in it that I intended it to mean or to be.

Why did you open a gallery?

Well to start, I have always been someone who is better at working for themself. But as it turns out, having a gallery is actually about working for many artists. When I first started thinking about opening a gallery in 2015, it was really because I had come from other places with much more diversity, and being an artist and someone who is obsessed with looking at art, I was sad to see mostly representational paintings of our region being shown. I understand, in a tourist-driven area, that this is just how it is, but I felt a real need to bring to our area work which was something not already being shown. I guess this is the easy answer.  At that time also, as a new artist who was struggling, I wanted to help other artists make a living, and finding homes for their art was a way to do it. Now we represent around 45 artists at any given time, and 85 percent are women which is something intentional. I got so sick of visiting galleries all over the US and seeing the opposite reflected in the artist roster. It was usually 20 percent women and 80 percent men. I am proud of what the gallery provides for the community and it is in a constant state of flux.

How does your work — owning and running Higher Art Gallery — cross-pollinate with your studio practice?

The obvious thing: I show my work here. Sometimes somebody will ask if I have work here, and I say no. I lie [laughs]. I may be having a particularly vulnerable day.

What challenges does working outside the home present to your studio work?

A lot. One of the things someone told me before I opened the gallery is that I’ll never have enough time to work on my own art work, and that is 100 percent true. If there was just one thing I could change in my life, that would be to have more time for my own art work. Since I moved [the gallery from Union Street] to this location, it’s much busier now, even in the off season. In the old space be able to paint for an entire day, and maybe someone walk through the door if I were lucky. It’s not like that any more.


See more of Shanny Brooke’s work here.

Sarah Bearup-Neal develops and curates Glen Arbor Arts Center exhibitions. She maintains a studio practice focused on fiber and collage.

 

 

Creativity Q+A video with Mary Beth Acosta: Collage

Leelanau County artist Mary Beth Acosta works in collage, under the creative nom de guerre “The Feral Housewife.” Using simple, familiar tools and a range of recycled, vintage papers, Mary Beth creates collages about mid-century housewives, big-finned cars, and “labor-saving” appliances that were promoted as drudgery-busting machines that would revolutionize the modern home. Watch this conversation – part of the GAAC’s exhibition PaperWork – here.

Pictured: Kneel No More, collage, Mary Beth Acosta

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