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Cathy's Profile

About

website: www.cathynichols.com
blog: www.joi-ful.com

A bit about Me...
When I was younger, I thought that I would be an English Professor. Then I fell in love with a painting. I’d been in love before, but never with something so colorful, so obscure yet rife with promise. It was abstract, yet figurative. There was an animal shape rising up, suspended by a red, heart-shaped balloon against a dark, moody background. On the bottom was a faint, yet discernible trace of glitter. Glitter. This was a love-letter. And ever since reading it, I’ve been trying to write back.

I don’t know where my ideas come from exactly. Sometimes they emerge fully-formed while I’m sitting in traffic (Maybe this is why there are so many artists in L.A.!). Other times, I gather all of my favorite materials and begin to weave images together with wax, paint, medium a…

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  • Female
  • Born on May 19
  • Joined April 10, 2007

Favorite materials

beeswax, oil paint, paper, acrylic, wood

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About

website: www.cathynichols.com
blog: www.joi-ful.com

A bit about Me...
When I was younger, I thought that I would be an English Professor. Then I fell in love with a painting. I’d been in love before, but never with something so colorful, so obscure yet rife with promise. It was abstract, yet figurative. There was an animal shape rising up, suspended by a red, heart-shaped balloon against a dark, moody background. On the bottom was a faint, yet discernible trace of glitter. Glitter. This was a love-letter. And ever since reading it, I’ve been trying to write back.

I don’t know where my ideas come from exactly. Sometimes they emerge fully-formed while I’m sitting in traffic (Maybe this is why there are so many artists in L.A.!). Other times, I gather all of my favorite materials and begin to weave images together with wax, paint, medium and words until something coalesces. Often I make ‘mistakes’ or end up looking at a disaster I’d like to throw out the window. When this happens, I force myself to keep going. I always try to remember the first time I tuned a guitar; the sound was the most confusing right before it suddenly snapped into harmony. This is the same way with paintings. And maybe even with love.

I know that a painting is finished because it seems like the right thing has been spoken -- something I wouldn’t mind sharing with my levitating glittery friend (or with you).

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