Tricks of the mind in the art of Catherine Tirr
“The way things come together in people’s memories or dreams is not necessarily relating to present reality,” says Catherine Tirr. “As fragments come together in our dreams, it might be a little of this and a little of that, and it’s all in a strange sort of otherworldly experience. I suppose that’s what I’m trying to get across, but it isn’t something that [the viewer] can relate to directly. It’s not literal, so it shouldn’t be read as such.”
Tirr isn’t a Jungian psychologist but rather an abstract painter whose recent body of work, “The Colour of Hindsight,” is being featured in the Manhattan Beach Creative Arts Center. The opening reception takes place next Thursday, Feb. 2, from 7 to 9 p.m.
Right now, however, we’re sitting in the courtyard of the Santa Monica Public Library, with Catherine drinking tea, since she’s British, and Bondo drinking coffee since he’s skittish.
Because there aren’t any figurative or recognizable elements in her paintings (unlike, for instance, the canvases of her friend Marie Thibeault), Tirr’s work is open to broad interpretation. What emerges is a surging amalgamation of her thoughts, memories, dreams and daydreams, “a vibrant but unreliable tapestry” and “an inner topography,” as she notes in her artist’s statement.
Not surprisingly, significant events on a larger scale – such as the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico and the devastating tsunami that struck northern Japan – wend their way into Tirr’s subconscious and subliminally appear in her work. “Saturation,” a previous series, reflects how she feels about the planet and the way it’s being treated.
“Water or the environment, or just environmental concerns, have been with me all along,” she says. “I suppose what I’m curious about is how I place in history in relation to other artists who are also sort of environmentally driven – because it is important to me to be able to bring awareness to people in some way through my painting.”
Should art socially engage the viewer, or make a political statement?
“I don’t think it has to; I think it can,” Tirr replies. “When you look at someone like David Hockney, I don’t think his work is ever all that socially or politically based. But for me it’s definitely part of who I am.”
Speaking of David Hockney, Tirr and Hockney have more in common than meets the eye when looking at their pictures. Sure, they’re both transplants from dreary England to the sunshine-laden California coast, but Tirr also worked with Hockney for half a year, editioning his prints. Furthermore, Hockney originates from Bradford, which is maybe just 30 miles from Tirr’s hometown of Leeds.
From there to here
Raised in Leeds – which rock ‘n’ rollers associate with The Who album “Live at Leeds” (1970) – Tirr left Yorkshire to study for a year at Newcastle College of Art, then moved to London where she earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in Fine Arts from Ravensbourne School of Art and Design, and in the following year a Masters in Fine Arts (specializing in printmaking) from Chelsea School of Art and Design. A scholarship and an airline ticket brought her to Cranbrook Art Academy in Detroit, Michigan, where she completed her studies in printmaking.
“Having only moved in 5,000 mile increments,” Tirr adds, “I decided to come here.”
In that case, I reply, her next move can’t be to Hawaii – too close – but rather to Brazil.
However, when she did make her westward trek it was from New York in January of 1994. The reason I know this is because I’ve just inquired if she had any trepidation about earthquakes before moving to Los Angeles.
“It’s funny that you should ask,” Tirr says, “because, no, I didn’t have any trepidation although I was obviously aware of it.” She packed her possessions in a truck and started driving. “I was in some motel in Little Rock, Arkansas, when the Northridge earthquake hit. I turned on the television and there was this view of L.A. on fire, bridges half torn-up, and I’m moving to this nightmare.” She laughs. “Then I started to be a little anxious; maybe I shouldn’t move there after all! But then the theory was, well, it happened now, so hopefully there won’t be another anytime soon.”
That’s relatively true so far; the god of earthquakes has been taking a nap and here’s to him slumbering a while longer.
Patterns in motion
The paintings that comprise “The Colour of Hindsight” series are mostly acrylic on canvas, and superficially, at least, they look quite different than the works in “Saturation,” in which watercolor – producing a softer, diffused tone – is the predominant medium.
“Well, I always like to surprise,” Tirr says when I mention that the two series don’t really look like creations by the same artist. “I think it’s good to evolve and move in directions that maybe initially you don’t feel particularly comfortable in. I like to stretch.” She’s just begun a new series, mentions that “it’s again quite different,” but adds that if we knew her work, her mark, we’d probably recognize a common, connecting thread.
The Manhattan Beach show does include three pieces from “Saturation.” Says Tirr: “I think that Ann (curator Ann Martin) felt that it was a good transition to actually be able to see some earlier works. She felt it would show some progression from where I had come.”
As one who has been exposed to the work of so many artists (at the library she’s just picked out books on Joan Mitchell and Paul Cézanne), Tirr’s influences are wide and varied, but she’s quick to name Richard Diebenkorn (“for color and structure and abstraction in general”), Philip Guston, Howard Hodgkin, and Anselm Kiefer. Later on, she’ll add a few more, Winslow Homer, Marsden Hartley, John Marin, and John Singer Sargent.
“But I come back to [J.M.W.] Turner regularly and look at his work, and even his watercolors which were on exhibit at the Tate recently. They’re very minimalistic, but they’re really quite powerful.”
One of the prominent works in the new show – it’s also featured on the postcard that advertises it – is called “Dreamnet,” and it contains a great deal of motion and depth. Tirr explains how the eye is drawn in to explore the spatial aspect of the picture.
As for that filigree-like layering, “I think of it like membranes,” she says, comparing the effect to what we see on our own inner eyelids when we gaze at the sun with our eyes closed. It’s the same sort of crazy patterning or webbing or network of fibers that Tirr says she finds throughout nature, and in so many different configurations.
Another work, “Seconds Later,” contains hot red patches on either side of more bubbly-like membranes. The reds, Tirr says, “act as the buffer, too, to whatever it is that’s flowing there. I am interested in all that, the rolling motion of the ocean or whatever happens in your mind when you’re recollecting things. So in these (the current series) I was trying for a sense of uneasiness as well.”
Artists who are conscientious about what they create must constantly ask themselves, as Tirr does, “why is what you’re making significant for the moment? It’s more my own working through things and I was wondering how is it that I make my paintings topical. How is it that they become of this moment rather than from months ago or years ago?”
Answers will emerge and presumably inform her future compositions. In the meantime, let us step into the gallery and have a good look. As the artist notes:
“These are fragmented impressions drawn from a deep well, reassembled out-of-kilter and willy-nilly the way they sprang – a view with eyes shut tight.”
The Colour of Hindsight, paintings by Catherine Tirr, is on view from Thursday, Feb. 2 (reception, 7 to 9 p.m.) through March 8 in the Creative Arts Center, 1560 Manhattan Beach Blvd., Manhattan Beach. Ann Martin is the curator. Hours, Tuesday and Thursday from 2 to 6 p.m., Wednesday from 4 to 8 p.m., and Saturday from 1 to 5 p.m. (310) 802-5440 or go to citymb.info.
