BKK 222

Our first conversations about art revolved around earth pigment. I asked Robert to sent ochre from Australia to Ireland in exchange for a painting. He collected the ochre and discussions continued about methods of processing the colour, separation, sieving and levigation. 

Throughout the exchange conversations about art were always close at hand. Opinions on painting practice, writing styles, books, music, film, photography and ceramics were swapped regularly. Topics of light, colour, negative space, craft and process were touched on again and again and it became evident that our tastes aligned in so many ways when it came to our creativity. 

When the world opened up again after covid we wanted to explore the deep connection we had formed and investigate our practices in an in person collaboration. We chose Thailand as the meeting place and BKK222 was the product of our time together. 

BKK- Bangkok

The city was in a lull post lockdown. Like most places on earth it was recovering from its own brand of trauma after the great upheaval to business-as-usual. There were very few tourists and domestic life seemed to be sprawling once again. The April air was humid and locals tucked into the shade beneath parasols and tarps. Peeling sunshine burned through the polluted fumes that rose from the traffic. Everyone wore masks inside and out. It was a busy hub of noise and haste but we weaved through it easily. 

A cascade of open storefronts fell full across the paving. Businesses devoted to fruit or worship alongside displays of jewellery, gemstone, and convenience. Around the corner, the welding shop and the shop that sells locks. Lunchtime was a flowing bustle of brown limbs in the noonday heat. Along footpaths and side streets smoking coals sat in streetside stalls. The smell of cooking meat and sewage united in the air. 

We two creative kin came to Thailand to explore the spark that lit between us when we spoke at length of art. Through the Bangkok concrete maze we combed the crowds in hope to catch a burst of light. A hunt amongst the sounds and shapes of glass and steel. A refracted flash absorbed into the darkness two blocks down. Take a right turn. Take a left. Take a break. Take photographs. 

For now we play it safe and take it slow. Stick a straw into a coconut, eat mango sticky rice at the boat ramp with the catfish and the pigeons. Sit here a while and listen in to evening chat and river water. 

At nightfall, in our quiet room above the streets, we tried to make sense of the search so far. Sketches, notes, screenshots, scans. Artists’ bags flung open, sprawled across the space. We prepared canvas and paper in the dark with diluted metal salts. Cyanotype was the link between our practices. A charged yellow dye ready for tomorrow’s ultraviolet light.

Each day we explored on foot, took photos and made paintings. Down to the temple on the river for a look. The sun’s rays burned through the clouds and onto our papers. We watched them turn from yellow, to teal, to Prussian blue. We bowed in thanks. A twisting plume of incense smoke took the breeze and made a path that led downstream. We flagged a boat and traced the maps that stretched along the water. We crept along canals past stilted dwellings that sagged and leaned against tilted boards, held upright for now.

Back on land we talked of all we’d seen. Bangkok had been very good to us. Its shapes, lines and colour became a framework for our exploration of light. We collected all we had so far and took it on a northbound flight to the walled city beneath the mountains in the province of Chiang Mai. 

CNX - CHIANG MAI

Upon arrival the air was wet and cool but the days soon turned to sweltering noons, torrential evening downpours and hot sticky nights. An ease enveloped the journey here. The pace and haste of Bangkok made way for lazy meanders through the inner side streets and half streets of the walled city. We had gathered an essence of the passion and spark to be found by two who travelled so far to explore the potential of connection. We hoped now to bring that spark into the physical for the outside world to see. 

A first floor concrete room was both studio and home. At night we sat cross legged on the porch and drank Sang Som, Shweppes and Singa. With full mouths and minds, we crushed pigment and charcoal, brushed them to page and bled them together. By day the toolbox was assembled. Paper, notebooks, maps and plans piled up on floors and tables. Light sensitive chemicals: potassium ferricyanide and ferric ammonium citrate, panes of glass and photo negatives. Mock-up prints were taped to walls. Endless trials were held as we tuned ourselves to the sun, exposing paintings and photographs when the UV was at its strongest. There on the steps we etched from the sky clear lines and soft curves in deep blue hues.

We took slips of inspiration and the specks of light from the back of the mind, and through the exploration of the space between us formed them into something more defined to the outsider. Now, with stacks and reams of drafts and prints we packed our bags and left the place. Southbound on another plane to an island in the Andaman Sea. Ko Lanta. 

KBV - Koh Lanta

 The night we arrived at our villa on the hill we retired to the balcony looking due west over the water and the sky. As we basked in the heat a pulsing insect song curled around us like a rattle. In the distance an evening call to prayer loomed through the dusk and droned amongst the chorus surrounding us as the last rays fell from the sky. On the horizon a line of dark cloud fizzed with lightning and held the sunset to the sea. We dozed and drank and gave our thanks. The earth spun dark another day.

We spent our last week together on the grass in front of our villa exposing cyanotypes in the blistering heat. In the afternoons we explored the island on our Honda Wave. We took the road out to Old Town, stopping on the roadside to collect pink earth pigment, then back to the shoreline just in time to catch the sun before it disappeared. We swam in warm saltwater at sunset in the mandarin glow, laughing out loud at our good fortune. 

At night we huddled in the cool, tiled room and bound together all we had made. We selected images to sit side by side, pairing photographs and paintings, curating each individual combination for all twenty copies. We neither of us saw it coming, the production line of such a kind, for it was not built but grown, simply, joyfully, through flow in art and love. Our physical portrayal of the light encountered when you go towards what feels right and good. 

For us, BKK 222 is a representation of the leap we took in order to be together, to have conversations in person rather than across time zones, to risk our comfort for something unknown. It’s a symbol of what we can achieve creatively and the collaboration to come. It’s a symbol of our light.

Cyanotype Experiments

The past year I have been working on two commissions which, over time, began to explore a similar process - using UV to oxidise cyanotype chemicals. While the two commissions had very different starting and end points they both allowed me to delve into the varied outcomes that result from tinkering with exposure times, weather conditions and surface. Below are some images and descriptions that explain the process.

Cyanotype is a process whereby a chemical mixture is oxidised by UV light to produce a deep blue colour. Literally painted by the sunlight.

Ferric ammonium citrate and potassium ferricyanide are mixed together (in the dark away from UV light) to make a yellow liquid. This is painted onto paper and left to dry and then stored in the dark. 

When exposed to UV light (sunlight) the mix undergoes an oxidisation process and turns from yellow to green to blue. After exposure the remaining mix is washed off leaving behind a beautiful prussian blue. Various shades of blue can be achieved by tweaking exposure times. Water is added at various moments which causes interesting colouration patterns and lends itself beautifully to my practice.

The cyanotype mixture contains iron salts which are washed off with the addition of water, however, while they remain on the page they can be mixed with copper ink, which reacts by turning from bright turquoise into a deep rust colour. Alternatively, the copper can be added after the cyanotype has been washed and in this case the copper oxide ink dries in it’s own crystallisation patterns across the page. 

Copper ink is an exercise in alchemy. I began by submerging copper scraps in vinegar and iodized salt for two months, stirring the ink daily to allow air and vinegar to oxidise the copper, producing a deep turquoise colour. The colour deepens over time as more of the copper is eaten away through the oxidisation process. 

The ink is separated into two layers, a top dark blue transparent layer, and a heavier milky blue layer that sinks to the bottom. When mixed they produce a beautiful translucent ink that seems to bend and move with the light. 

There is a keen sense of alchemy occurring on the surface of these works. While each used similar same colours, I have approached the canvas, and the application of colour quite differently in both. In Opalescence, I wanted the hues to blend in a gentle way. The commission called for the use of botanical inks foraged from a farm in Cork; a pallet of neutral tones was created from bluebell, nettle, wild sage and buttercup. I dripped, poured and blushed the inks onto the unprimed canvas allowing the hues to soak and blend across the surface. As the colours seep into the textile they settled into their own rhythm, as they do in nature. 

In Elemental Energy I wanted to create stronger contrasts between areas.  I layered colour atop colour, allowing chemical reactions between copper oxides and cyanotype minerals to occur on the surface of the work. There is intense contrast between shapes and textures which draws the eyes across the canvas settling on each distinct area. I tweaked ph levels using basic and acidic materials, which stretched the colours across the spectrum, and in some cases resulted in new colours emerging. 

Where We Collide Exhibition

These works trace the landscape of North Sligo through the pigments and inks derived from natural materials at Raghly, Lissadell, Ballyconnel, Benbulben.  There is a contrast between the ancient geological fossils and formations and the slippery soft organic terrains found at rock pools and shorelines.  Colour is used as a marker of terrain. Each work responds to the idiosyncrasies of specific colours derived from the landscape as well as the surface it is applied to. 

Colour is created through the process of crushing, grinding, charring and boiling natural materials. The works feature a spectrum of hues from iron rich yellow/orange ochres to a pale pallet derived from limestone, urchins and limpets to monochromatic charred kelp. Bladder wrack and kelp are synthesised into inks which allow a contrast in viscosity on the page. 

For more information and to view availabel works please head over to my Works For Sale page or email me at karcahill@gmail.com.

These pieces are created using the same gestures seen in the process of working with pigments. Pigment and binder are mixed together by moving a glass muller over a glass slab, working the pigment in circular motions. The pigment is then scraped off the slab, ready to be used. 

Cotton rag paper has been drenched in water. As the liquid soaks into the fibres it buckles and swells creating undulations across its surface. Layers of earth pigment are then applied to the surface, deepening is hues as it builds up in the troughs and dips. The pieces, seen as a whole, create a river-like map of the movement of colour, tracing how the different densities of pigment from different landscapes react to the surface of the paper. The works combine movement and stillness in how the pigment has been applied, allowing the eyes to travel across the terrain of the artwork. 

Colour is applied to the page by drowning the surfaces in ink and paint. The surface is Yupo Paper, an interesting synthetic recyclable material that is completely waterproof. Without the ability to absorb into the surface the pigment is left behind after the evaporation process. This creates thin veil-like layers which can blend and bend across the page, gathering and depositing hues and tones as it rolls. The hues find their way around the page settling into their own rhythm as water does in the natural environment. The final drying process appears to suspend the colour between solid and liquid revealing distinct vistas.  

Upcoming Exhibition

‘Where we collide’ exhibition is a process-led body of work that invites viewers to experience natural landscapes through the lens of abundant colour locked within ecosystems that are now, or once were, submerged by the ocean.

‘Where we collide’ presents the collaboration between the artist, the studio, and the natural environment through two and three dimensional artworks. I have gathered colour from geological land formations that have been shaped by the surge of the sea, tectonic plains that have risen from deep below surface level, and aquatic-ecosystems that are sustained by the changing tides . Approaching the studio as an experimental laboratory I employ processes that are informed by the elemental forces present in the landscape. Heat, pressure and water allow me to synthesise organic matter such as limestone, algae and urchins into pigment, paint and ink.

Beyond documenting the process, this body of work opens a dialogue between myself as the artist, the materials, and the landscape. I bury canvas underground allowing the landscape to imprint itself upon the material. I drip, pour and blush colour onto paper and glass, allowing the hues to soak and blend across the surface. As the colours seep into the fibres of the pages they settle into their own rhythm, as they do in nature.

The expressive artworks, seen as a whole, are gentle and balanced. Dappled textures are contrasted against precious details. Viewed up close, the alchemic reactions of the natural pigment echo that of the shoreline’s ecosystem, ultimately creating a keen sense of the environments to which the works respond. ‘Where we collide’ oscillates between scientific alchemy and intuitive mark-making, showcasing a deep material enquiry into oceanic ecosystems and the elemental forces at play in these landscapes.

Opening Saturday 30th October at The Hyde Bridge, Sligo. 
Remains on view until Tuesday November 23rd. 
Open 11-3 Tuesday - Friday, 11-4 Saturday. Closed Sunday and Monday. 

Hawthorn Hues

I have been using the landscape as the source of ‘bio colour’ to create artworks that respond to that specific landscape; gathering materials such as rocks, seaweed, lichen, berries, industrial scraps, seawater, and bark and processing it into live inks and pigments. A couple of months ago I was commissioned to make colour from a Hawthorn Tree in Portmarnock, by a couple who had recently moved house and looked out at the tree daily. I hadn't gleaned colour from the Hawthorn before so it was really cool to research the role of the hawthorn through history. I found a lot of information surrounding its medicinal value, and local lore surrounding it's use since pagan times, but not so much about the colours we might get. I was rooting for something peachy and had an inkling it would react with iron to make a grey colour. 

We waited until the hawthorn berries, also known as 'haws' had ripened (the texture on the inside of the berry is cream and dry rather than green and pasty) and then collected a jar. The Hawthorn tree sat in front of a small Neolithic ring fort and was surrounded by a whole ecosystem of plant life. There were, of course, a lot of nettles, dock leaves, and ivy had wrung itself around the entire backside of the trunk up into the gnarled branches. The branches themselves were home to sunburst lichen, also known as Xanthoria Polycarpa. I gathered small amounts of each, making sure not to take more than 10% from any one plant or branch, as well as a bunch of fallen branches. I brought them back to my studio where I processed them over a couple of weeks. 

The colour locked within the haws, nettles, dock leaf tips, ivy and lichen was extracted through the process of soaking and reducing. The hawthorn twigs were charred in an open fire and then ground down into charcoal. The interaction of live colour is emphasised as I tweak ph levels and modify the vibrancy using oxides. Iron generally darkens the colour, especially where there is a large amount of tannin in the material. Alum creates a more chalky appearance. As I test each colour solution on paper the drying process often appears to suspends the works between solid and liquid. This tinkering connects my work with the ephemeral nature of the landscape.

All in all, I harnessed 15 colours from the hawthorn and it's surrounds. The palette contained deep autumnal hues from muted greens to deep oranges. Interestingly the dock leaf and hawthorn gave off similar colours. The charred hawthorn branches seemed similar to that of oak trees, but perhaps harder to grind into a fine dust. 

The process of harnessing colour from the environment acts as an invitation to explore landscape.  I am shifting my work towards more sustainably-centered approaches, both ecologically and economically. The act of searching for colour forces me to address environments with a bold investigation and is as much part of my process as the resulting palette.

The inks pooled and soaked into the paper causing ripples and dips which directed the flow of the colour across the page. This was reminiscent of the ripples left on the beach after the tide has gone out which connected the piece to the sandy shore of Portmarnock.

The overlapping layers appear to dance across the page; intertwining gradients coming in and out of focus, mirroring the thorny branches of the tree. Up close detailed alchemic processes are frozen on the page. nettle, iron, dock tips and charcoal dripped together, splashed across the paper. Soft ivy tones misted atop each. Usually one piece emerges as the clear finished work, and the other sheets simply as a place to test colour and layering, but this time there are two successful works. They're both exciting to look at, and successful in their own ways. There are similar strokes but the density of colour bounces across the page differently in each.

Colour commissions are something I would love to explore more. The resulting paint and inks can be used in a finished work on canvas or paper. It is a unique way of preserving landscapes and the special moments that occur within them. If you’re interesting in commissioning a specific landscape or plant get in touch, i’d love to hear from you!

Tabhair Aire
Kari 

RIALAIG SERIES - NEW WORKS

I’m delighted to share a series of work I created back in January before the world tipped upside down. I spent 10 days at Cill Rialaig near the small town of Ballinskelligs. The weather shifted into torrential downpour and howling winds more than once, and the very short days meant that working late into the evening in front of the fire became a daily ritual. This series was funded through the sale of my ’Kerry Encounters’ colour postcards, so for those of you who purchased a postcard and supported the residency, Thanks a mill!  

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Veils Across The Blue

A$160.00

I characterise my paintings as gestural and experimental, with a strong emphasis on capturing the essence of specific elements of the landscape. In the case of these monoprints, my mark-making was heavily influenced by how  the changing skies over the atlantic during the winter months shape the relationship between water and air. They respond to the site of Bolus Head, looking across the ocean towards The Skelligs, in West Kerry.

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Grooved Sea and Self Naming Islands

A$160.00

sale

Tumultous Horizon

Sale Price:A$100.00 Original Price:A$200.00

The imagery is not grounded in representation, but rather a reimagining of the atmosphere of a site.  The works depict a blending of sea and sky, where the horizon line moves in and out of focus. The wind blown clouds quickly shift, opening bright for short moments, then veiling the scape once again. There is an urgency in the clouds depicted through haphazard mark making and an evocation of West Kerry’s battering storms.My hand is heavy but the application of ink is fluid, leaving behind traces of my process through scraping, scouring and pushing colour across the plate. The works create a balance between elements, rain and sea, clouds and wind, often with one reflecting the movement of the other. 

I used Akua inks, which have a tendency towards a more milky appearance, to further point to the haziness of the vistas. While in residency at Bolus Head I created bio colour inks from materials I gathered on site. Charred Oak (from the stove in my old stone cottage, and my main source of heat) has been mixed with the Akua Ink and applied to the second plate of the monoprints. The contrast of the charcoal adds to the sense of chaos of skies.

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With Water Dark And Glowing

A$160.00

The titles are inspired by “Ten Poems about Clouds”, selected by Katharine Towers. A beautiful compilation of poems that could be described as a ‘cloud appreciation book’. It is available through candlestick press.co.uk and features the work of Liz Berry, Billy Collins, John Glenday, Paul Mehan, Fiona Sampson, Leslie Saunders, Katherine Towers, Sarah Westcott and Derek Walcott. Other titles are from Robert Frost’s ‘A Line-Storm Song’ and Emily Dickinson’s ‘The Sky Is Low’.

All pieces are available unframed as delivery increases significantly on framed work, but if you would like to chat about framing, please let me know and we can work something out. I’m also happy to share my two cents on framing options for the works, even if you frame them closer to home. 

Kari x

Arboreal Bind - New Works

For this series I focussed my colour pallet on hues and tones created primarily from Oak. As the pieces developed I added Walnut bio colour for it’s deep brown shade, which set off the lighter golden hues of the Oak Gall Ink.

I used oak in various forms; charred bark which resulted in charcoal black as, well as the ash from an oak fire which gave me pale cream chalk. The mid-tones were created using oak gall ink. Each ingredient had fulfilled it’s environmental role, discarded and burnt. Through the process of colour making I was able to prolong the life-span of these arboreal materials.

I employed the use of broad brush strokes that appear to continue past the parameter of the page. The colours pooled on the surface of the paper, melding and infusing together, as if alive. As the paint dried, this blending of organic matter was captured.

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Of Wind Blown Husks

A$380.00

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Fissure Glitter

A$190.00

Oak galls ink is one of my favourte to make - the galls are formed when a wasp lays its eggs on the branch of an oak sapling. The tree responds to the wasp larvae by creating a protective orb or “gall” around the wasp babies. Eventually, the wasp bores a tiny, perfectly circular, tunnel out of the gall and flies off, leaving its gall haven behind. I collect the galls from the low lying branches of young oak trees. (If you ever come across galls in abundance please let me know)

I crush and soak the galls for between 3 weeks and a year depending on how rich I would like the colour. After straining the liquid, I add FeS04 (Liquid Iron) which reacts with the tannic acid to turn the ink from golden brown to black/green brown. After brushing the ink on the page the ink deepens through oxidization, further appearing as a rich, indelible black.

Oak Gall is the quintessential calligrapher’s ink and has been used since the middle ages. the Book of Kells contains oak gall ink, and until recent technology took over, oak gall was the official registrar’s ink for signing legal documents.  

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Silk & Subterranea

A$380.00

The full series can be viewed through my online store. If you have any questions please get in touch.
Tabhair Aire
Kari x

BIO COLOUR

The process of creating paints and pigments from materials gathered at specific locations has allowed me to contrast factory produced colours with a more sustainably centred approach to making. From discarded urban remnants to wild foraged materials I have built up a unique paintbox of colours.

The act of searching for these colours forces me to approach the environment with a bold investigation, and is as much part of the process as the resulting palette.

Special thanks to Fellipe Lopes for creating this video. It’s always a pleasure collaborating.
Check out his website to his documentary journalism.

If f you are interested in purchasing or commissioning a piece for yourself get in touch, I would love to hear from you! In the meantime join my mailing list to see new works as they emerge.

Lithic Coasts

The word “landscape” not only refers to the topography of an environment, but also to its existence within society, consciousness and experiences. As we move through our existence we traverse thousands of constantly shifting landscapes – geographical, linguistic and experiential - moulding them around us. Language and boundaries shape how we think, move and express ourselves. I like to think of this concept as our “landscape of experience”.  

The energy of the ocean impresses itself against the shore, engraving out its own shape. Understanding this process requires a surrender to deep geological time; where millimetres are measured in millennia. Conjuring deep time as a lens through which to view our landscapes does hammer home a realisation of our insignificance. Waterfalls, rock pools, peninsulas, all created at a creeping pace by the repetitive coming-together of forces.

Using this as a starting point, I created a series of prints that reflect the mapping of places where the ocean has carved itself out of the coast. My approach was to use sugarlift, monoprint, carborundum and aquatint intaglio etching processes. The sugarlift nods to cartographers charts and the human element of marking or mapping landscapes, while the more painterly heavily applied carborundum areas strike through the work as if filled with tidal energy.

If you would like to purchase a piece head over to my shop, or get in touch if you would like to commission something similar for yourself.

Waiting At The Weather Window

Nestled in behind Nano Nagle Place off Douglas Street in Cork there is a beautiful space called Good Day Deli.

I say space, and not cafe, because what the owners Claire and Mak, have done with this spot reaches far beyond serving food. Yes, they create absolutely delicious dishes and they have queues around the corner most weekends, but that’s not where their project ends. They have created a really wholesome mission around their food business, keeping sustainability to the fore of their decision making. They encourage community building through a series of talks and their podcast. Tributaries is a collaboration with Ray Foley and invited practitioners, academics and advocates discuss the most pressing environmental issues we face. Recent talks have focussed on ‘The reintroduction of wolves in Ireland’ and ‘Waterways’. Please Wait To Be Seated is a sustainability podcast that discusses GDD’s views on sustainability with their staff, suppliers and guests. Work by local artists and makers are sold on the shop floor furthering their emphasis on ‘local’.

When Claire invited me to show work in the Good Day Deli, I immediately knew it would work out well. To top off everything Good Day Deli stands for, they are also located in a peculiarly un-irish setting; a contemporary container style, glass-clad structure surrounded by a herb garden with high walls and colourful shrubs. The space isn’t quite inside, and isn’t quite outside, which I love.

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Finding Flints In The Ocean.

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Land Bias.

The pieces I created for the space needed to stand up to it; they are big and bold. The colours reflect the coming of spring, and the emerging of colour; both which are mirrored in the landscape surrounding the space.

I poured liquid pigment onto hand-stretched canvas, pooling and dragging the colour across the surface of the painting. By building layers on top of layers the pieces embody the curves and currents of moving water. The work ‘Congress of Substances’ hints to the abundance of colour and texture found in the natural landscape by deconstructing the marks I use to create paintings. The title of the largest piece ‘Im Waiting At The Weather Window’ evokes a feeling of anticipation for the season to come.

Congress of Substances.

I'm Waiting At The Weather Window

Unfortunately, the works were on the wall a mere week before the cafe closed, in keeping with COVID 19 restrictions. We’re in a moment where it feels like the world is standing still. I am grateful to the solidarity shown by the community of Ireland towards small businesses and the creative community. No doubt Good Day Deli will open it’s doors again once the pandemic is over, and I can’t wait to see what plans Claire and Mak have been hatching!

If you would like further information on any of these works please head to my shop, or get in touch via email.

Cill Rialaig AIR

In January this year, during the depths of winter, I was an artist in residence at Cill Rialaig, in Ballinskelligs, Co. Kerry. The residency is a cluster of cottages perched on the edge of a peninsula overlooking the Skelligs. My cottage gave me space and some dedicated time to immerse myself in my surroundings, creating colour from the landscape.

I’m working towards a body of work that will be a culmination of experiments in techniques of colour creation, and an exploration of different methods of applying colour to surfaces. In the Graphic Studio I have been looking at ways to print without using plastic of oil based mediums. I’ve been questioning the ecological effect paints, inks and mediums have on the natural world. There does seem to be a number of ways to use plant or algae based medium with pigment to create paint and ink. Nice one. So, heading down to Kerry, I knew I wanted to create a couple of pigments from the landscape. 

Cill Rialaig also has a print studio. I’ve been attempting to create greater colour density in the strokes that I use, and I have images floating around in my peripheral vision of how I want to bruise and blush colour onto the page. I haven't been able to get paintbrushes to create the mark I want to, so I took this opportunity to spend a few days immersing myself in mono-printing techniques. I was unbelievably lucky that a dear friend and artist, Clare Henderson, was in residence for a month in another cottage. We spent the days tipping around in our own cottages engrossed in our own work and experiments, or in the print studio rolling up prints and getting totally engrossed in each print. We ate together everyday and discussed where we were at and how to get over the next hurdle. We Clare is a master printmaker so and sharing a studio is always very nourishing. 

The daylight was short, but when the sun did shine the cottage lit up with bright light. With the frost still in the air there wasn’t much in the way of juicy berries or flowers. But the beach held some hidden gems beneath the rocks where rust had stained the silt. Purple rocks ground into clay. 

Charred oak from the stove ground down into a smooth silvery dust led to beautiful strokes in monochrome. The rust created a deep orange hue, and the ash from peat added a tonal dimension to the palette, with it’s lighter orange-yellow colour. The dense purple clay worked like chalk and dried opaque which allowed me to apply layers atop one another. But the charcoal created the most interesting marks for me. It came to the print studio with me and I blended it with extender and aqua inks which worked ok, but needs some more tinkering to get right. 

I created loads of work at Cill Rialaig and am really looking forward to getting it out int the world. Some sketches, although so unintentional, yield the nicest strokes and echo the dense darkness against the bright winter light. I finished some pieces, which will be mounted and sealed back in my studio. Some works are just the beginning of something and will hang on my walls and dip in and out of my practice for the next while. 

Before arriving I had asked for support for my residency, through the sale of some of the experiments I would be making. It was really great to send out my work as soon as it was made, and to think that every pool of pigment rich landscape ink would end up across Ireland. Thanks to everyone who supported the residency. Let’s do it again soon!

Below are a couple of finished works. Some are available in SO Fine Art, and some will be mounted and sealed over the next while. Keep an eye on my instagram to see how I get on with that!

If you’d like to know more about my available work, or any of the pieces you’ve seen here, get in touch or join my mailing list where I’ll be releasing new work very soon.

Kari

OPEN STUDIO 14 December

I would love to show you my work and for you to get up close with the textures & colours. Inviting my community into my studio offers us both an opportunity to exchange ideas, talk colours and eat mince pies together.

Come peruse my studio and find the piece that makes your heart sing! I will have finished paintings, prints & drawings available for purchase in all sizes and prices. I will have large finished pieces, small original works, colour packs and lots of pieces that are not featured online.

Art can be a wonderful thing to give and to treasure, but sometimes hard to choose for someone else. If you would like to give an original painting, I will create a bespoke gift card for you. You can choose a value in advance or you can decide together later when you’ve found the perfect piece.

My address is
29 Dolphins Barn Street
(Blue door next to scrub a dub)
Dublin 8

Feel free to bring family & friends for an afternoon of art.

There is free parking outside my door, and plenty of other options in the area.
The closest luas is Fatima ( 4 minute walk) or a quick google map will show you the list of buses that pass right outside.

Red Canopy X ALS

August, for me, always means Another Love Story. The most precious festival out there in a place that means so much to me. Killyon Manor hosts ALS every year on their vast grounds, and it’s exciting to watch the ALS crew pull together such a wonderfully engaging and thoughtful festival during the lead up to the weekend. Killyon was where I called home for the Winter 2017 into 2018 and the ground, as well as being one of the best spots for foraging for blackberries, walnut, oak galls, birch bark and elderberries, always ignites a feeling of home for me. This ALS I was given the opportunity to install ‘Red Canopy’ in the forest.

Immeditately the red hues of the pieces drew out the red tones of the soil. The twisting roots and branches of the trees are echoed in the painted strokes, constantly moving upward towards the forest canopy. I use gestural movements to react to spaces. I pour, drip, scrape, blush and bruise colour onto the surface of my paintings. Layering textures becomes a way to investigate the relationship between hues and tones. Colours emerge directly from the environment dictating the palette I work with. Colour asks to be seen. The simple application of colour to a surface is nuanced, bridges the gap in our relationship to the environments we inhabit.

The audience moved through the installation guided by their curiosity to keep discovering colours through the disruption of painted surfaces.  They were invited to come closer and move around to enjoy the negative space between the trees and the works.

This was the first time I’ve had a chance to light the paintings, and Jerry came up with a subtle was to point LED spots at the works, embedding the wires and bulbs in dead branches laying on the forest floor. Although incredibly hard to photograph, the piece came alive at dusk, when the light only barely made it through the trees and the deep brown trunks and soil appeared almost black.

Massive thanks to the ALS Crew, Fellipe Lopes, Steve O’Connor, Zoe Purcell & Jerry for helpign me pull this one off.

To see more work like this, and to follow my colour exploration you can join my Colour Newsletter. Each month will focus on a particular shade and I’ll share my findings, recipes for making, and uses by myself and other artists I admire.

Colour X Wedding Comission

My brother and his girlfriend got engaged last year. Gracie, his now wife, has a unique way of approaching the world; her style is fluid and see-saws from outrageously chic to minimal everyday, which I find really exciting, as you never know what she’s gonna come out with. I was absolutely thrilled when their save the date arrived and it was a pantone colour swatch. Immediately I knew I wanted to create a series of small paintings for their wedding that all their guests would be abel to take home as a gift. 

Gracie and Cormac collected a rainbow of army men, little plastic toys, candlesticks and vases which would dictate the colours for each table setting. I decided to keep it simple and create a series of paintings in a specific colour pallet for each table. Usually my colour packs draw from the landscape, or a specific theme, so it was really refreshing to use one colour as a jumping off point.

Nothing is every just one colour though isn’t it? Colours compliment each other, and they appear more vibrant when they’re kicked off by another colour. Like how green and pink push each other out to the front, or how arranging various hues blue together can allude to purple. I approach the mark making element of the series as a system, a kind of factory line. I apply each stroke to each page with the same gesture, allowing myself to vary slightly from one to the next. I repeat this with each layer and stroke of colour until I feel the painting is balanced. The result is that each series has a kind of conversation about how the tiniest shift in my hand can evoke two distinct images. 

Sure the whole family got involved, and my brother hung multicoloured lanterns across their ceremony, and my sister created an intricate table plan using paint decals, and between the bells and whistles the whole venue was popping with colour. 

At the end of the night I was totally chuffed to see none of my paintings had been left behind so thanks to Cormac and Gracie for having such sound friends who appreciate the effort, and who have been sending me photos of the paintings framed in their homes. Delighted! 

The idea behind this could lend itself so well to many occasions. I began to think about creating works that are specific to people and their own experiences. Caputuring a special moment, or a favourite location, or a specific flavour, smell, memory. the possibilities are endless.

If you have a particular moment you would like captured in paint, get in touch! I would love to hear your ideas.

Thanks to their photographer White Cat Studio for capturing the essence of their wedding, and for taking these deadly photographs of my work. 

Colour News!

Why is red considered the first colour? 

Why is white so deadly? 

Is Indian Ink really from China?

Sign up for my newsletter.

It’s new and it’s gonna be an immersive exploration into colours. Starting with a stroke of paint, my newsletter shines the light on one colour every month.

Each shade goes under the spotlight as I investigate it’s cultural significance, experiment with making & using it, and sure the work of other artists who are creating work with it.

This month... PINK!

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Spectrum Series

Delicious strokes of colour flat against a textured background. There is something delicious about the way the colour fuses together. Being summertime the light hits the land straight in, striking light through the trees and creating dense shadows. Bright sparky colours bounce through the vistas.

In Sligo, I was given a chance to create a series of works on canvas. I approached this as an exercise in exploring a technique. I wanted to fully engage in the process of applying three distinct layers in various colour combinations. The works are made up of three components; the white texture background, followed by the messy spirited splash, and finally the slow strong gradient stroke. The slow steady application of the stoke, after the uninhibited gestural splash forces me to shift my thinking, and my hand-eye co-ordination. Each component is intuitive - moving between complete abandon and frenzied focus.

Spectrum. Green. Lime/Fuschia

Sure it’s that time of year again when days roll together and time seems to flit past in an instant. The hours spent in deep concentration working on these pieces will mark the presence of being in Sligo at this moment.

All the works are available for purchase - see my Instagram & Artwork Archive for more deeeeets.

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Port Inks - An exploration

Cloud footed findings,
Harboured in slumbering sludge,
reveals alchemy.

Port, Donegal. Lay of the Land Residency. 2019.

For two weeks we rooted down in Port, Donegal. The off grid stone cottage was the backdrop to our investgations into the landscape. Immersing ourselves in the flora, fauna and bogland for a fortnight gave space to the beginnings of an exporation that I believe has sparked a limitless direction.

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Starting out I had no idea what to expect from the roots, leaves, and shoots of plants. I gathered rust and stones in hopes of pigment and hues. I ground charcoal and ash from the well used fireplace, and foraged from the shores of the harbour. The experiments were a catayst for conversations around colour theory and nature based creativity, with close attention paid to the processes we were undertaking.

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Two hours passed since beginning the first boil. The ingredient was crowberries, foraged from the top of the bog behind the house on the Slieve League Peninsula. The berries, we believe, were those lucky to be missed by flying Chough birds, and the grazing of sheep. The haul was just over a handful but the hue was deep and luscious.

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Deep purple in colour, we dipped our brushes in and began teating the ink. The purple ink glistened on the paper and as it began to dry the colour transformed to a steady blue. Nettles, kelp and lichen followed. And over the course of the residency we created blacks from the charcoal, dusty beige from ash, orange from seaweed and pretty much all the variations of brown you can imagine.

Reflections on land.

The other half of what I do happens under the moniker Lay of the Land. In the coming weeks I will be writing a lot more about Lay of the Land and Tombolo 19, which just happened this past May. But just now I am spending quite a lot of mental energy focussing on the interaction between my various projects.

Lay of the Land exists currently as an arts organisation curating and creating site-responsive residencies and exhibitions in locations throughout Ireland. The project is grounded in themes of environment sustainability and collaboration. The project was born from a simple idea I had with Hazel McCague, friend, artist, and long time collaborator, to create a sculpture together in a remote location shaped by the Atlantic Ocean. Since its inception in 2016, we have supported 23 artists to create over 65 large scale artworks through 4 projects. To say this project is A LOT of work is an understatement! My role in Lay of the Land can be identified as part-artist, part curator, part facilitator, part director; a unique combination which requires a huge amount of creative energy.

The artistic aim of Lay of the Land (LOTL) is to drive artists and the experience of art outwards, into the wilderness, and forge a deep connection between visual art and land. We believes that the interconnection of art, nature and people can be transformative. Our projects create greater accessibility to arts in rural communities and produces events where visual arts stand alone as a valuable and powerful cultural activity and experience. The large scale exhibition/residency projects usually comprise of a three-week long residency where artists develop and create artworks that respond directly to the landscape, history, and heritage of West Cork. For the culmination of the project the public are invited to experience the landscape and the art that responds to it.

Outside of the studio, the artists work in a manner and on a scale that the landscape dictates. The immersive process provides an openness and freeness of experimentation, producing innovative and informed sculptural works of art. The art is drawn from the history of the Mizen Peninsula and by integrating knowledge from the surrounding communities. The exhibition trail encourages an open and relaxed discussion between the artists and the audience.

SILVA 18 marked an important shift in my work, as the gap between my sculptural work and painting work narrowed with the creation of a series of large painted canvases strung between trees mirroring the growth of the forest. The location at Knockomagh Woods, overlooking Lough Hyne, was the most challenging landscape I have worked in to date. But the work that emerged in response to my time on site stands as one of my most proud achievements.

‘Red Canopy' - Ceannbhrat Dearg’ rises from the autumn earth up through the negative space between the ancient trees. The contrasting colour brings attention to the richness of the moss covered flora. These works are visual interpretations of the experience of the site on Knockomagh Hill; mirroring the twisted branches and sparks of light thrown between the leaves. As the viewer moves around the piece the works appear to dance between the trees.

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The project has grown from strength to strength over the past 3 years. We have learned so much from working with so many incredibly talented artists, and dedicated crew members. But the project requires an enormous amount of administration, funding, and facilitation. This stream of work can seem unsurmountable sometimes, and I often question how it effects my creative output. But as with every project I have ever worked on, the feelings of accomplishment far outweigh the moments of questioning, and exhaustion.

For now we have a series of exciting projects in the pipeline which you can read about here.

Here is a documentary by Fellipe Lopes following the SILVA project. The films delves into the work behind the art, and gives you a deeper understanding of the project.

To date our projects have been part-funded by the Arts Council of Ireland, Cork County Council, a Fundit campaign, donations through our website and donations over the Tombolo and Silva exhibition weekends. We are eternally grateful to the many people who have generously given their time, energy and resources to our projects. The project of connecting landscape and art could never happen without their continued support.

A special thanks to the Art Council of Ireland for granting us the Arts Grant Award 2018. This funding enables us to develop new projects, support artists and present unique and innovative outdoor exhibitions.

Producing and exhibiting art in the wild presents many logistical as well as elemental challenges. We continue to rely on the generosity of supporters of the arts to part-fund our projects. If you are able to donate please follow this link.

SELVAGEM (Fíadh) - Exhibition at NaCasa, Florianopolis.

Over three weeks in Floripa I produced a body of work that investigates “the landscape of experience” of the East Coast of Brazil through the lens of how the Atlantic Ocean has shaped and moulded both the physical topography and the human experience of the land. The work that examined the differences and similarities of two distinct locations, who share an ocean.  The series of paintings I created combined colours, textures and marks to formed a vocabulary which expressed my discovery of the geography and perspectives of Brazil. The residency gave me time to critically engage with artists pursuing work that pushes the boundaries of how we perceive our landscapes. 

The conversation in Brazil surrounding environment and landscape was a strong reminder of the precarious ecological situation we are facing. The stark reality I faced while in Brazil opened a huge amount of questions about my role as an artist, and my responsibility to create work that challenges my audience to change their perspectives. This led to a deep reflection of the sustainability of my work. On a practical level I was forced to examine the tools and materials I use to create my work. Nogalina is a dry mixture of ground walnut shell and is a material which is used through indigenous populations and body paint, and as a wood preservative. It is extracted from between the top two layers of the Walnut. It is water soluble, and is easily prepared. The simplicity of this material juxtaposed against acrylic marked a moment of clarity. I continued to explore this material, which informed the work I was making in response to the landscape of Brazil. The works the emerged from this new exploration were specific to that moment, and that place. 

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The works were exhibited at NaCasa alongside the work of Fellipe Lopes, who is an incredibly talented photographer ad filmmaker from Brazil, and also happens to be my partner. I know, who better to travel with than a native! This was the first time we worked together in this capacity - sharing a studio and working simultaneously on new works. We have entirely different aesthetics and mediums, which lead to two totally different outlooks on what we were both percieving while we travelled and explored the landscapes of Santa Catarina. The work was exhibited side by side which invited the viewer to explore each of our our distinct experiences of the landscape.

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