This spring will mark my 60th year exploring a career in art. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, my backyard comprised evergreen woods, with fresh and salt waters weaving through majestic mountain ranges. My family's modern home opened to the warm evening light, casting a glow on red madrone bark, reflecting off Lake Washington, and illuminating pileated woodpeckers climbing the old-growth Douglas fir. I witnessed the unfurling of spring ferns and heard ravens chortling in the sky.

The thread in my work has always embraced the elemental archetypes of the physical and cosmic world: water, ether, earth, fire, wind, and woods. As a mark-maker, I am drawn to the methods used by people and animals to indicate their presence and relationship to a place. Observation of the macro to the micro has allowed exploration of the interactions and patterning of these five elements. This is expressed in my conceptual work through the juxtaposition of various materials: beeswax, resin, graphite, oil stick; stones; glass; lead sheeting and precious metal leaf; textiles and natural materials; found objects; old book pages, and handmade papers.

I have completed well over 3000 paintings and sculptures. My extensive notebooks catalog my life, documenting the completion of series, referencing contemporary art practices, and capturing influences from travels and studies. They comprise a collage of words, drawings, notes, and photos – chronological markers of time. The initial idea for a series typically emerges within these notebooks during the encaustic work process or in semi-conscious states late at night.

I divide my time between studios in Seattle and Santa Fe, working full-time as a multidisciplinary artist in painting, printmaking, photography, and sculpture. It became clear during my childhood that I could reproduce what I saw, setting me on the path as an illustrator. My first twenty years as a professional artist began at Stanford University, where I earned my Bachelor of Arts and Sciences while working and illustrating for the Biology Department. Oil painting was taught by Nathan Oliveira. In Frank Lobdell’s drawing class, countless sheets of paper were filled with sumi ink drawings of live models applied by bamboo pen and brush.The Bay Area Figurative Movement was in full force. Mark-making continues to play an important role in my work. When an element is repeated many times, your mind quits telling your hand what to do. Energy and a sense of order are concentrated by the continuous reiteration of the same path and pattern. Working as an artist is about continually getting yourself out of the way, seeing, and then moving beyond. I am drawn to methods that have been used by people and animals to indicate presence and their relationship to a place. It is important for me to be present with each painting, each work, with my energy flowing through my hands.

Twenty years of marine biological illustration honed my abilities in graphic art and book design. During this time, I was able to study objects, mentally turning them around, and then drawing them in their environmental habitat. Juggling family life with three children, a multitude of animals, and farm responsibilities on an island, I had to work hard to squeeze illustration time into my schedule. When I resumed painting in my thirties, workshops allowed for exploration, adding variations and skills to my multimedia toolbox. Play has always been a crucial element in my work. Throughout many years in the art world, continuously adding and experimenting with new methods and combinations has been essential. I begin with a concept, and different materials allow the expression of that idea, with the series developing through these interactions. There exists a continual cross-pollination that has proved to be highly productive.

I began using wax from my island beehives, initially experimenting with batik using pen and ink drawings. Later, I seamlessly transitioned into the rhythm of encaustic wax painting. The combination of encaustic and oil stick provides the flexibility to build up, erase, fuse layers of color, and score wide swathes or fine lines. The wax, with its transparency, captures the history of the work. Texture and oil stick layering contribute to tonality, contrast, and luminosity, while additional materials such as paper and lead sheeting add dimension and solidity. Ethereal reflection may be introduced through the incorporation of precious metal leaf. Fusing these materials with a heat gun or torch opens up new possibilities. Ultimately, the wax serves as the binder of the concept within the work.

An artist explores and establishes a color sense, which may change place and time. I use an earth-red that energetically marks a final point or a single line. Pale grays move through a spectrum of tints, while turquoise on edges emphasizes the shape. Payne’s gray or deep indigo functions as a rich black. I have continued to explore natural dyes, a skill developed from dyeing my flock’s wool on the island farm.

Traveling increases my knowledge and visual library, focusing on cultures that fascinate me: Asia, South America, Cuba, Africa, and Europe. I am drawn to gathering places of worship and natural sites of metaphysical power. My connection has been the investigation of humanities' offerings and the patterns created in these sacred spaces. Many series have emerged from these inspirations. The Bird Screen wall hangings developed after observing crows in Kyoto return to their night roost. In the Kibo series, hundreds of papers with handwritten blessings are rolled, beeswax-infused, and then placed in old African metal grills. Kunzi, reverse wood panels, are covered with wax, metal leaf, or lead sheeting and utilize plumb bobs on threads to indicate balance and the energetic line of the axis mundi. Stacks are photo encaustic of my unbound 108 pages when on press in Verona, Italy. Passages began with over 300 images taken when traveling from Paris to London on the Eurostar train.

Over the years, my photography has evolved and is employed in my work using various methods and paper variations including silk tissue, Bhutanese handmade paper, and antique book papers. Recently, I've been experimenting with durable Encaustiflex paper, incorporating printing, sumi ink, graphite, and permanent marker. These layers are then dipped in hot beeswax, with the addition of oil stick painting, and hand-stitched in layers to hang as scrolls.

My work has pursued a deep investigation of the symbolic number 108, rich in numerological symbolism associated with Eastern religion and philosophy. This pursuit began after my early travels in Bhutan, where I experienced lives rich in belief and an intentional use of patterns and repetition. Completing a series of 108 objects in one work or 108 related encaustic panels presents a challenging yet rewarding endeavor, establishing a mantra often arranged in a grid configuration. These complex patterns express abstractions that are evocative of ancient textiles or wall graffiti. My use of repetition, employing primal forms such as circles, spirals, squares, and triangles, fosters a connection with the collective thought and heart of all sentient beings.

Radius Books of Santa Fe published my monograph 108 encompassing 14 years of incorporating this significant number in many forms and mediums. Over time, I began to feel the limitation of this specific parameter. I then became intrigued with horizontal and vertical lines, exploring their ideography. Landscapes developed with the horizon of water, plateaus, and land. Rain, seeps, and forests echo the vertical, simultaneously indicating humans standing firmly upright. The earth’s rotation creates currents of water and wind, pushing these lines to move and flow or solidifying them, constantly changing the interpretation. Our foundations become unstable.

If you listen, life's heart and soul will speak. The mission is to 'do the work.' Remaining focused requires being present in the studio and listening to what may come forth. Each piece represents my personal truth. When the dialogue between the work and myself is complete, the art must be released, the power within the work hopefully becoming a magnet for others. While feedback is necessary, it can sometimes be distracting. Sculptor Anne Truitt, with whom I had a master artist residency at Santa Fe Art Institute, described vulnerability as the guardian of integrity.

Over the years, I have built an extensive library of monographs and art books, enabling me to study and broaden my concepts. Artists like Morris Graves, Montien Boonma, and Wolfgang Laib are renowned for their relationships with nature, simplicity, and expressions of Eastern philosophies. Gerhard Richter breaks the code of traditional painting, refusing to conform to expectations. Cy Twombly, a master in mark-making, demonstrated his love of line and asemic writing. Picasso worked in any medium that his art demanded. Anne Truitt maintained a steadfast career in sculpting and writing amidst family demands and the art world’s criticism. Nathan Oliveira, with whom I returned for a residency at Santa Fe Art Institute in 1999, had a profound love for paint and texture. He taught the concept of the space created by the four lines of the canvas edges, never ceasing to learn.

Recent series include Accumulations: Stacks, Reiterations, Reach, Ankana, Between the Gates, and Azimuth. The Azimuth series comprises 108 encaustic panels, each featuring a hand-pressed monotype of black on various papers. Often, there is a small touch of red, symbolizing a river in kanji with three lines. Similar to Between the Gates, these paintings resonate with our precarious political situation, as well as holding personal significance. Several summers ago, a ten-foot flash flood devastated our Santa Fe property, with tons of debris destroying structures and fences, and sweeping one of my beloved horses a mile downriver. This series evolved from our observations, restorations, and renewal, later leading to larger encaustic paintings.

The inner soul of an artist is continually inscribed upon by societal and political bombardment during day-to-day images and events. I find it difficult to separate myself or paint in a vacuum. The Remnants series reflects the beauty in decay as well as the chaos of destruction. The question with which I struggle is how to portray the hope and majesty of our world within the confines of environmental destruction and the new 'norms' to which we are exposed. My series, Shift, acknowledges the landscape of the earth and serves as a meditation for our future. The possibility of hope for our world and ourselves as humans manifests itself in the returning light of the morning sky.

My sixty-year journey continues. I have worked on old tables with three children running around, in shallow basements, and tiny attics. I have had work destroyed by fire, ice, water, and mice. I love the joy of writing, both poetry and prose. What I have learned, I share with others of all ages, encouraging their creativity. Who I am in my mind and spirit endures as my personal pilgrimage, and my work may only stand as an offering.

Catherine Eaton Skinner
March 2024