Cat Spilman. The canvas of resilience.

Her art is born from a deep well of emotion and life experience, blending personal introspection with an unshakable commitment to creation. Her work – a raw and cathartic exploration of self, memory and growth – transcends the boundaries of traditional abstract painting. Cat Spilman. We sat down with her at her studio in London to discuss the intimate processes that drive her work and then moved to her home to continue about the personal philosophies that guide her through life. Meet the master of emotional abstraction – and one of the strongest voices in contemporary art.

Your creative process is notably fluid and unplanned, allowing emotions to guide your brushstrokes. How does this approach shape the themes you explore in your work, particularly modern feminism and motherhood?

I think this question resonates particularly as it applies to motherhood. When you have a small child you can have the day or the month or the year planned, but things rarely go smoothly because children are chaos and you have to adapt. It’s the best, most beautiful kind of chaos, but things are always slightly in flux and you can either rage against it and demand control, or you can relax and float and hope you’re staying relatively on course. I find painting, at least the way I paint, to be similar in that I can have an idea of a finished piece in my mind, but if I refuse to deviate, to be flexible, then the painting often comes out flat. For me, the challenge is to let go, see where the hours take you and accept the opportunities that mistakes create.

Letting go – is this an act that happens only in your mind, or does it also occur on a physical level?

I spent a lot of my childhood and early teenage years in a ballet studio and I really miss that. Dancing is a beautiful way to be both intensely in your body and also larger than and outside your body. I think painting has, in some ways, simulated that for me, especially when I work on large canvases and find my arms making big, sweeping motions in crayon, or curving to follow the track of the brush stroke. There is definitely a physical element to the process.

How do you define the purpose of your art, and how has that purpose evolved throughout your creative journey?

The purpose of my art has always been quite selfish really. My painting isn’t political or about social causes, it’s almost like a diary which recounts the prevalent emotions, big events, day to day minutia and the significant people in my life. Painting is a way to process things I otherwise couldn’t, a means of self exploration and a way to share parts of myself with the world that would otherwise be hidden.

Would you like to walk us through the moods, emotions, and parts of yourself that we can find in the painting you’re currently working on (as seen in Asia’s photos)?

I don’t really like to overexplain specific pieces, I think it actually detracts from the experience of seeing the painting. I think of each piece like a conversation; in painting it I start the conversation and every person who sees it then brings their own second half. They see the painting differently based on their own life experiences and aesthetic preferences. If I tell people what that painting is about, or what they should be looking for, it deflates the second half of the conversation.

What inspired your transition from a Scenic Artist in New York’s film industry to a full-time abstract painter in York, UK? How has this shift influenced your techniques and artistic perspective?

This was less of a decision than a reaction to what was happening in my life at the time. I met and married my British husband when we were both working in film and television in New York, however in 2018 he was diagnosed with cancer. Less than a year later COVID hit and when the world went into lockdowns his family couldn’t come to the US to visit. We ended up moving to the UK to be closer to them, and unfortunately he passed away in early 2020. After he died I rented a studio space not with the idea of making a new career, but to have time and space to myself to be creative and start to process the previous few years. I made work that said things I couldn’t otherwise put into words, and was very lucky to find early and consistent support.

You’ve consciously chosen to work with a restricted color palette, primarily utilizing house paint. How does this deliberate limitation enhance the depth and emotional resonance of your work?

Colour is such an intensely powerful tool and our eyes, minds and hearts carry strong associations with it. For this reason I’ve always felt that it can be used (unintentionally) to distract from work which otherwise isn’t particularly strong. I wanted my work to have a solid sense of form, shape and movement and it took me three years to develop what I consider my “alphabet” before I felt confident enough to start using colour. Incorporating colour while remaining true to my artistic identity has been a significant challenge, but I never want to stagnate or remain too firmly within my comfort zone, so it’s something I’ll continue to pursue and hone.

Describing your paintings as abstract self-portraits suggests a deep introspective element. How does engaging in this raw and cathartic creative process facilitate self-discovery and personal growth?

Painting is my form of meditation and it’s also a bit of a ritual, so when I start painting both my mind and my body relax into a muscle memory of sorts and wander to that place below or behind conscious thought. I’ve described it before as “going to the attic” because it feels like disappearing for a while, sorting through things, then reemerging into the light where the rest of the family lives and by the time that’s happened a painting has progressed. I learn so much about myself when I look at the finished painting because I can see the process and see the emotion behind it. It’s almost like having a dream, then waking up and realising “oh that dream was because this was happening.” It only makes sense when it’s over.

Observing your young daughter’s uninhibited creativity has been a source of inspiration for you. What lessons have you drawn from her approach to art, and how have they influenced your efforts to transcend self-criticism in your own work?

In my first studio there was one white wall where I let my daughter (who was younger than three at the time) draw with crayons while I worked. That wall quickly became the best part of the studio. It was a mess of tangled shapes and colours, but not once did she say, “this isn’t good” or “I don’t like that”. She just drew and drew over the course of about 18 months. It was pure creation without doubt or criticism or reflection, and I was mesmerized. It was a huge source of inspiration, to try to dial things back to the point of almost reflexive mark making. I’ve never managed to be as loose and natural as she is, but it remains the kind of gold standard in my mind.

You start each painting by priming the canvas and drawing an interior border with a black crayon. Could you delve into how this minimalistic ritual sets the tone for the character and energy of the piece that follows?

This is the ritual that gets me to the right place to begin a painting. It’s my least favourite part because it’s the same every time, but it’s the necessary foundation for the more fun exploratory parts that come after. Once a piece is primed and the frame has been drawn I start making very loose marks all over the canvas. The big gestures feel like stretches or warming up and then I start to focus on shapes or movements I think are interesting and the painting develops from there.

Music plays a significant role in your studio practice, often influencing the outcome of your pieces. How do different genres or rhythms impact your creative flow, and are there particular artists or styles that resonate with your artistic vision?

Music has always been a very important part of my studio practice. I know some artists who listen to podcasts or even have tv shows playing in the background, but for me that would keep my mind too present, and focused on something outside my work. Music helps me cast off into that meditative place. The genre or mood of music definitely impacts my work, but I think I choose the music based on how I’m feeling any given day so it’s really just another way of informing the process. I play a lot of classical music and jazz, and also a lot of shoe gazing music – the kind of stuff I listened to in high school. There’s also a healthy rotation of classics like Paul Simon, Joni Mitchell, Cat Stevens, etc.

Immersing yourself in painting serves both as your profession and a form of personal fulfillment. How do you maintain a balance between the demands of your artistic career and your overall well-being, especially amidst the themes of distance and belonging that permeate your work?

My second studio (before the one I’m in currently) was in my house, and that was difficult because it was easy to spend too much time painting. It was a great space, but it’s healthier now that my studio is in a separate building (albeit just across the street) and when I’m at work I’m working, when I’m home I’m at home. I don’t feel stressed about my work, I feel stressed when I don’t work, so I’m very lucky in that sense. I look forward to going to the studio and I feel like I’m a better, calmer person, partner and mother when I spent time there every day.

Can you share some constant elements of your day, that make it a good day?

I’m very lucky that I get to look forward to pretty much every part of my day. In the mornings I’m usually woken up by a five year old singing. I get to walk her to school in our sweet part of London then go to my studio. I leave half way through the day to walk our dog in the nature preserve by our house, then back to the studio for a few more hours before collecting my daughter. My partner is an amazing cook so he makes wonderful dinners and then we get to relax as a family. I know how lucky I am.

What are you most proud of?

I’m most proud of my daughter, but she’s her own person and deserves the credit for being as amazing as she is. What I’m most proud of in myself is my resilience. I’ve had some significant challenges thrown at me and there were many moments where it would have been easy to give up, but I’ve worked hard and have created a life I’m proud of. I hope in doing so my daughter will grow up with a model of strength and a desire to find her passion and spend her time doing something fulfilling and enriching.

Whom are you looking at for health, longevity and wellbeing advice or guidance?

This is a great question that actually stumped me because I don’t think I spend enough time thinking about my health, longevity or wellbeing. As a partner and a mother I spend a lot of time thinking about other people’s wellbeing. I exercise, eat well and prioritise sleep as much as possible, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if women were able to feel that looking after themselves is as important as looking after other people?

Amen.