Clare Wilson is a painter and tutor with the Open College of the Arts (OCA).
Can you tell me about the different components of your practice?
My paintings evolve out of a process of layering, removing, reworking and pushing oil paint to find an inevitable form. It is a slow process, and the multi layering of transparent glazes of oil colour reveal traces and imprints of a fragmented landscape. Subtle shifts of tone and a restricted palette refers to the diffused light and intervals of landscape and its potential as a space of transition and transformation.
My way in to this process is to make drawings and collages and to take photographs of the particular place that I am interested in responding to. A few simple lines from a small sketch can form the composition of a painting that inevitable changes shape over time, as the process becomes more involved and intense. Sometimes a painting will get lost in the uncertainty, and I have to bring it back, generally by obliterating most of what is there and reintroducing references from the source material. This all adds to the history of the making and at some point the shapes and colours will settle into a place that fits.
What does being a practicing artist mean to you?
I do try to get to my studio several times a week, even if it is just for a few hours a day. If that connection or sense of momentum gets lost then it can be difficult to find your way back sometimes, so even just sitting and being with the work can keep it alive as an exploration. However, being an artist isn’t just about being in the studio as it is also about how one sees the world and responds to it. So for me walking in the landscape is a source of inspiration and connection, as is reading poetry, and listening to music. I’d say there are aspects of these experiences that find their way into my paintings – a layering of images and sensations and a certain surface quality.
I think there is an interesting paradox in being an artist, in that one has to absorb the everyday and the immediate and often practical concerns – yet what is created is often elusive and connected to the unknown and unknowable. I find the meeting of these two worlds an exciting place of possibility and transformation.
How has your practice evolved?
I’m the kind of painter that keeps trying to dig deep into what I find interesting, so if you look back at my work from the last 20 years or so you will see subtle shifts, ideas evolving gradually, rather than dramatic changes. I often get preoccupied with a certain palette, so for about three years I was making predominantly red paintings, while more recently I have favoured cool greys and blues, particularly as bodies of water have started to emerge in the paintings.
I do remember making the transition from figure paintings to a more abstract way of working in the second year of my degree in 1992. I had a residency in Portugal and I think that I needed that time away from people who knew me and my work, to make that change. I started making simple, linear and quite monochrome studies of the architecture of Lisbon. It was the beginnings of an ambiguous response to place, one that I am still engaged with.
How do you get your work out there? Do you exhibit regularly? Do you have specific strategies for identifying exhibiting opportunities?
Many of my exhibition opportunities have come about through some connection with the galley or curator, or because of knowing other artists involved. For example I had a solo show at Blyth Gallery, Imperial College four years ago as I already had a connection with the exhibition organiser because of running workshops there. Another solo show was at Barbican Arts Trust project space because I used to have a studio there. I’ve been invited to put work in group shows if my work fits the theme. Most recently I had work in ‘Prosaic’ a show in Sheffield that combined artists who explored painting processes in different ways. I used to show with Stephen Lacey Gallery in London which was a beautiful space but unfortunately the gallery closed a few years ago. I do find that many opportunities come about through connections – either with a person or a place. If I’m honest, I’m not terribly pro-active or business like with this side of things, though many artists will tell you that approaching galleries out of the blue rarely works. You usually need some way in – or for the gallery or curator to already be aware of your work.
Do you respond to open calls? How useful do you feel these are?
I am very selective about these because I don’t want to keep spending money on these opportunities if I feel my work won’t fit. I think it is helpful to identify where your work sits in relation to the context of the opportunity, and not use too much time, energy and money applying for everything. And don’t underestimate your own ability to make things happen. Many artists organise and curate shows themselves as a way of getting it out there, or to make connections with artists who share similar concerns.
I have had more luck with being offered residencies than getting work into open exhibitions. I have applied for residencies that seem relevant – so in the landscape rather than the city. Most recently I had two weeks in County Kerry, overlooking a beautiful expanse of the Atlantic Ocean while surrounded by rocky outcrops and wind battered trees. It felt right for my practice and I had a very productive and inspiring time responding to the interruptions in the landscape. And when I have made my application for these opportunities, it has been authentic and from the heart, rather than any second guessing about what they might want to hear. I think that is very important, there is no point in trying to be a version of someone else – if you keep re-engaging with what feeds your practice I think it will resonate with yourself and with others.
Do you use social media? How do you use it and how useful do you find it?
I like instagram because it is so visual and there isn’t the ‘noise’ you get on facebook and twitter. I don’t overuse it because that doesn’t quite relate to how I work. I make slow paintings that take a while to evolve and I don’t want to give a running commentary on the process. I think it is a useful means of communication but for me it is more effective if you don’t bombard everyone with your work, or allow it to be a distraction. Inevitably you check comments, so it is too easy to loose precious time that could be spent painting. Instagram has meant that more people are aware of my work, and I have had a couple of opportunities to show work because of it so I do find it useful, but try not to get too seduced.
Does teaching feed into your creative practice?
Yes it does because I am introduced to different ways of making work, as well as to the experiences and life stories that feed into that work. Teaching with the OCA, which is open access distance learning, means I have students between the ages of 20 and 80, and many are outside fo the UK. I was talking to a student in Thailand this week via zoom, and could see the Bangkok skyline out of her window – which may well be the closest I ever get. There is almost a symbiotic experience in teaching – I share my experiences and knowledge but I gain many insights from those I teach as everyone has their own unique way of responding to the world and their own experiences.
Are you part of a formal or informal group of artists? How important do you think this is?
Yes I am part of a small peer group which we actually set up at the beginning of the pandemic. We are artists with an interest in interpretations of the landscape/ space/points of transition. We meet up (virtually) every 6 weeks or so and it is hugely beneficial and supportive. It is helpful to identify artists that you can relate to but also ones that will enable mutual support. I think it is important for artists to develop reliable antennae that can identify those people that will be on your side as you continue on your creative path. Listening to too many opinions can be distracting and unhelpful. Most of us have enough mental chatter and self doubt, so don’t really need that kind of input from others – though constructive, thoughtful criticism is welcome and very valuable.
Do you set yourself specific projects or defined objectives?
I’m actually not very good at this sort of thing partly because of the way I make paintings, which are in and out of their own making, in a way – and deadlines can be difficult to respond to. Though I am currently working on a series of paintings that are related to the north east coastline and ideas about impermanence and loss. There tends to be a place than connects the work, and that is the closest I get to a theme or an objective.
Are there times when you lose creative momentum? Do you have any advice for regaining it?
I did fall out with painting a few years ago and probably didn’t do any for about nine months or so. I don’t remember how it got there but I did just find myself with a paintbrush in my hand one day – it seemed to sneak up on my. Pressure and expectation is the enemy of creativity, so if there is a lack of momentum or drive, I have to allow that to be – at least for a while. It has always found it’s way back, but to encourage it there are creative strategies. The most obvious way back to the path is through the sketchbook. Being playful with mark making can work, but then so can doing an observational drawing of plant.
Apart from the time set aside for teaching, how do you divide your time between making work and publishing/showing/promoting your work? Do you programme specific time for the different activities?
I always prioritise the making of work and I do think that there is a particular kind of energy that comes from this. When I am fully engaged and enthusiastic, I am more likely to talk about my work and share ideas, often just with other artists that I know but also if I meet new people. That’s not to say I think opportunities happen by magic – they don’t. But in my own experience, the less pressure I put on myself to make things happen, the more productive the time is in the studio. Where I am currently is in a personal and intimate exploration of memory and landscape, and when this series is complete I will look into ways of showing the work, but I am not able to do this until the work is close to being resolved.
See more of Clare’s work at: www.clare-wilson.com or on Instagram at: clarewilson8
