Thursday 22 October 2015

Meet the Artist - Cherrie Mansfield

Name: Cherrie Mansfield

Nickname: Ches, Chesonator, Chief.  At school it was Plum and Prune.

Occupation: Strategy and Performance Manager at Wychavon District Council and artist.  I’ve not got the balance right between the two yet. 

What makes you laugh?
The antics of our two cats, Sid (short for Obsidian) and Sweet Pea.  They’re adorable and mischievous - nibbling at the parmesan as soon as our backs are turned, trying to liberate crisps from their hiding place, climbing into kitchen cupboards and the washing machine, swiping my husband on the head when he’s loading the dishwasher and sitting on anything we’re trying to give more attention to than them.

Sid and Sweet Pea
Scariest situation you’ve been in:
It was September 1996, in Chiapas state, Southern Mexico.  I was travelling with four friends.   Two of them were due to fly home that day, the rest of us were staying on for another week.  Having set off early and driven for several hours in our hired car along winding roads, up through steep jungle-covered slopes, we decided to take a break to stretch our legs and change driver.  

The ideal spot was a lay-by just off the main highway at a place called La Silva Negra (the black jungle) overlooking the valley below.  Whilst we took photos of the view, one of the guys went off for a pee.  The next thing we saw was him walking gingerly backwards up the path facing two masked men.  Dressed in camouflage clothing and black balaclavas, they were carrying three guns: two rifles and a revolver.

They backed us up to the wall and gestured to us to put our hands up.  They were clearly young and nervous which did nothing to ease the tension we all felt.  I was envisaging newspaper headlines at home: “Five murdered in Mexican jungle”.  At least they could only shoot three of us at once!

As armed robbers go, they were relatively polite, returning our passports and leaving us with some money.  They dragged my boyfriend’s backpack out of the car first.   They were about to turn back for another when they realised it would take both of them to lift the first one. They dragged it off to the forest leaving my boyfriend wondering what he was going to wear for the rest of the trip.  A quick hand movement was all the encouragement we needed to get back into the car and onto the road.

Just as we were leaving the small town about 15 minutes down the road, the brakes on the car failed.  We limped back to the garage we had just filled up at and explained we had problem with ‘los frenos’.  It didn’t take long to figure out that we didn’t have any brake pads.

Two near death experiences in half an hour were quite enough for us all, so we abandoned our hired vehicle in favour of two taxis.  None of us wanted to hang around so close to the scene of the incident, besides there was a plane to catch and some of us had to go in search of pants for my boyfriend!

Phobias:
Snakes.  Not just the nasty poisonous real live ones.  My phobia extends to pretty much every form of snake you can think of – stuffed, toy, photographs, on TV and in films.  I can just about cope with cartoon snakes in kids’ books if they’re not too life-like.  And the weird thing is that if there’s even a hint of a snake in a shop window, magazine or on the TV I’ll be the first to see it.  

Favourite Artist:
In my Studio
There are quite a few.  I’m particularly excited by some of the artists who were part of the ‘St Ives School’ in the 1950s, among them Sir Terry Frost, Patrick Heron and Wilhelmina Barns-Graham.  Barns-Graham’s silk screen prints are magnificent.  Frost was prolific, producing such exuberant and joyful paintings, collages and prints.  If he was still alive I’d do my level best to meet him.  I recently met his grandson Luke who led a course I took at Newlyn School of Art.  

Then there’s John Hoyland.  Author Andrew Lambirth describes his work far better than I can: “pictures which inspire the spirit, which liberate and fire the imagination. He describes imaginary worlds ... and encourages us by the beauty and effervescence of his colours to respond to them and contemplate their meaning.”

Henri Matisse must get a mention too.  I like his paper cut-outs the most.  He developed the technique further, using it to design the unique Chapelle du Rosaire de Vence, in response to the gratitude he felt towards his nurse Monique Bourgeois in the final years of his life. It is a profound space, combining the artistic and the spiritual.

Ooh, and I nearly forgot Jackson Pollock.  In terms of living artists, then it’d be Neil Canning, Barbara Rae, Tom Hughes, Antony Gormley and sculptor Edward Baldwin, who I shared an exhibition space with a couple of years ago.  

About you:
Partly Cloudy 20x20cm, acrylic on canvas board.
Photo credit: Jade Edwards
I grew up in Horsham in West Sussex, where my parents still live.  On my first day at primary school I expressed my creativity by scribbling on another child’s piece of paper!  There was also a sweet stealing incident, but we won’t say any more about that except that I am still a sweet lover and get very excited by old-fashioned sweet shops.

I studied geology and environmental biogeochemistry at universities in the north east of England.  When my first job after university proved to be uninspiring, I threw myself into campaigning with my local Friends of the Earth group and then left to go travelling in South America.  I’ve been back there since because my brother, Paul, now lives in Chile.  I’ve also travelled in Europe, Central America, Nambia and Vietnam.  In 1998 I was awarded a Millennium Fellowship to participate in an Earthwatch project in Sri Lanka, studying the social behaviour of toque macaque monkeys.

I live in Worcester with my husband, Peter and the aforementioned cats.  Peter’s an excellent cook so I am very spoilt.  He’s also an occasional collaborator in my artwork – cutting, sticking and framing, otherwise everything would be crooked!  He also claims he’s my agent, but let’s just say he’s not really doing much to earn any fees.  

I volunteer for St Paul’s Hostel in Worcester and I’m passionate about social justice issues like climate change, fair-trade, homelessness and human trafficking.

Cadmium is Bad Stuff 23.5x17.5cm,
acrylic on board. Photo credit: Jade Edwards
How did you get into art?
Looking back, I think the roots lie in my childhood, which was both creative and colour-filled.  Despite growing up in the ‘70s I don’t remember much brown, beige or avocado in our home.  But I do still clearly recall many of the colours from my early years: 
  • At aged two and a bit, the bright yellow peeler my Mum was using to peel an orange not long after my brother was born.
  • The little red painted wooden wheelbarrow I helped my Dad to transport manure from our front drive up the path to the back garden. 
  • A pair of purple flared trousers I often wore to Sunday School
  • The emerald green pedal racing car my brother and I played with. 

I showed an early flair for drawing.  One of my first pictures that attracted praise was a heron drawn in felt tip pen on shiny paper that Dad had brought home from work.  We didn’t have a TV when we were growing up so had to find other ways to entertain ourselves.   Whether it was colouring, copying Sad Sam pictures, painting by numbers with those ridiculously small pots of oil paint, making candles or performing home-grown plays with my friends in our front room, I usually had some sort of creative project on the go.

I studied art at school and created several unusual pieces.  There was ‘Pollution’, a painting and collage featuring computers, bits of litter and cigarette butts I’d picked up from the street.  ‘Metamorphosis’ was a somewhat lurid construction made out of an old sock and ‘Rise and fall’ was a snakes(!) and ladders board created with paint and PVA glue mixes.  Alas, I received little encouragement from my art teacher and after leaving school didn’t pursue art any further.

After university, frequent holidays to Cornwall reawakened my interest and inspired me to start painting so I went to evening classes at the local college.  It grew from there really.  I’ve continue to do short courses at the St Ives School of Painting and Newlyn School of Art.

My paintings are typically characterised by rich colours and strong textures, sometimes I find composition a little more challenging!  I enjoy the freedom that comes with painting and the exciting possibilities that a blank canvas or board presents when I embark on a new painting.  Sometimes I begin a new piece with a clear idea in mind, at other times colour is the starting point, and everything else flows from there. There are strong references to geology and the natural environment in some of my work.
I'm currently working on an ambitious project to create a series of 92 paintings, each one inspired by one of the naturally occurring elements in the periodic table. From hydrogen to uranium, that's a lot of elements to get to grips with, especially as my knowledge of chemistry is quite limited.   So I've invited friends and family to contribute to the project by choosing an element and telling me what it means to them to give me some inspiration. So far I’ve completed the five halogens and made a start on the lanthanides, so there’s still a long way to go!

Any art secrets or wisdom to share?
Turquoise and Feldspar 50x50cm,
mixed media on canvas board
I think creating art is as much about having the confidence to just give it a go than necessarily having all the technical skills or a formal art education.  People often tell me they could never paint and that I’m really clever to be able to create what I do.  I disagree and challenge them to give it a try.  What’s the worst that can happen?  They don’t like what they paint, throw it away and never pick up a paint brush again.  On the other hand, they may feel the excitement that I felt as a child when opening a new tin of beautiful crayons or a bumper pack of felt tip pens in every colour, and end up becoming an accomplished artist.

When I first started painting I expected to create work I was pleased with every time and was disheartened when I didn’t.  I soon realised that it’s as much about the creative process, or perhaps more, than it is about the end result.  For every painting I’m happy to frame and put on the wall or share with others, there are several in the discard pile.  

I’ve also learnt that knowing when to stop is vital.  In many respects I’m a bit of a perfectionist, but that doesn’t sit comfortably with my style of artwork. It’s so very easy to overwork a painting and I often do.  Frequent cups of tea are essential, providing a moment to take a breath, step away from the canvas and reassess.  

Finally, I try to apply the principle that something is usually better than nothing.  I often tell myself this when I don’t feel like going to the gym to motivate myself to go and do a short session.  It is particularly important when time is limited and I don’t have the luxury of several hours or more to paint and it’s a principle I need to apply even more than I currently do.

Anything else:
My work has been exhibited at venues in Bromsgrove, Evesham, Pershore and Worcester and has been promoted by Arthouse galleries, Surbiton. In 2013, one of my paintings was short-listed for the prestigious Cork Street Open and some of my work is due to appear in the 101 Abstract Artworks Art Has No Borders iArtBook.  

In 2015, I helped organise the successful inaugural Worcestershire Open Studios, which saw the work of 70 artists displayed at 27 venues over three days.  

Keep in touch with my work by subscribing to magenta and malachite, my monthly newsletter here.

www.cherriemansfield.com









        




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