Sarah Boyle: Detangling the Randomness of Memory

Hawk Eye. Oil on canvas. 2021.

Feeling Like It's Not Of This World. Oil on canvas. 2021.

Side Convo. Oil on panel. 2022.

Artist Sarah Boyle.

Interior, Los Angeles, Sept. 5th 2021. Oil on panel. 2022.

Judgement. Oil on canvas. 2021.

Falling Slope, Sun and Smoke. Oil on canvas. 2021.

Website: saraheboyle.com / Instagram: @saraheboyle_painting

Chicago-based artist Sarah Boyle explores place as a means of detangling the randomness of memory. Boyle uses a self-curated collection of images as the basis for her landscapes, creating awe-inspiring work that cultivates a sense of connection and longing amongst viewers.

How did your creative journey begin?

I always loved drawing and creating, and I’ve been encouraged by my family and peers throughout my life to continue. I identified as an artist early on and always had a mess of projects going. I took many types of art classes when I was a kid and throughout high school. My background is multidisciplinary, and in undergrad I was involved in theatrical and costume design, illustration, and painting. The more I explored and practiced, the more avenues and people I had to understand the creative process through. Painting and drawing have always been the foundation and what I enjoy the most.  It’s been a lifelong identity and an obsessive cycle.

Where do you find inspiration for your work?

I find myself transformed by place and fleeting experiences. My work broadly explores the nature of memory through place, landscape, and repetition. I’ve worked on a project called Night Windows for the past seventeen years that has allowed me to explore many tangents relative to scale, location, light, and collective experience. I also keep a catalog of images from locations I visit or return to . It’s a mix of embracing the magic of the everyday, the balance between novelty and familiarity. My practice is influenced by artists like Clarie Sherman, Mary Lou Zelazney, Edward Hopper, and symbolist landscape painters. My husband is a writer, improviser, and actor, and many of my friends have a variety of creative backgrounds, so there is constant exposure to all types of inspiration.  

How has your work evolved over the last few years?

My earlier projects were more dreamlike or imaginative and explored the possibility of place. They also included more figures and  dealt with narrative. My most recent work has been solidly grounded in my experiences. I think there is still a sense of longing and feeling, but the attachment to a real memory is stronger. I’m a collector of images and keep a self-curated collection of moments and places I’ve gathered at random or intentionally. I take them back to the studio and find the through line or concept later.  Sometimes it’s very clear what intention I want to convey. This is the case with Firescapes and Night Windows. The Firescapes are a project related to my experience in Rocky Mountain National Park during the Cameron Peak Fire during the summer of 2020. The smoke and luminousness of the sky rendered a familiar place unrecognizable, a beautiful doom. 

What does a typical day in the studio look like for you, and how has your art practice grown or changed?

It depends on the stage of development, but I always start with a little warm up by flipping through old sketchbooks, reviewing little notes I’ve made for myself outside the studio, looking at artwork I’ve been thinking about, or sketching. I have a bulletin board that collects this inspiration for a project, and I update it periodically. Early parts of a project will include quick drawings to see if the images I’ve selected make sense together and to work out composition,  notes on color, and what to take away from an image. If I’m painting, I spend a good amount of time mixing and assembling my color palette for the day, sometimes recording on color charts for future reference. My palette is organized pretty much the same every time. Then it’s deep flow, usually with music, for five to six hours. I force myself to stop and sit with my work every couple hours, snapping a few progress photos along the way. I clean up my studio or assemble and hang work together before I leave. There is usually a sense of organized chaos so that when I return it feels like I hit the pause button. I keep regular studio hours these days. I don’t paint late into the night anymore, and I keep tabs on my stamina. I had a teacher once tell me never to be bored when I paint because it shows up in the work, and that little truth has become a sneaky mantra.

Which experiences have impacted your work as an artist?

It took me a while to get comfortable with my art. I explored lots of different possibilities by studying fashion design, theatrical design, and illustration before getting “back to basics” and earning my degree at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. I’ve had many amazing teachers along the way in all disciplines. Felix Cochren was my stage design professor at Syracuse University, and he recognized my love of painting and drawing. He had a deep appreciation of fine art and helped me realize it was truly my passion.  Mary Lou Zelazny was one of my painting professors at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and aside from teaching me incredible practical skills, she instilled in me a sense of self-discipline to continue to paint no matter what. I think like many artists, the pandemic made a big impact on my work. It took me away from my day job, and I had an explosive amount of productivity. I embraced the opportunity to work part time and really figure this dream out.

How has social media impacted your art career? 

When I started my art career, it was much more challenging to reach an audience and meet other living artists. Post undergrad, my daily exposure to other artists diminished.  I referred to myself as a studio artist, someone making my work alone and for myself. I had a deep sense of imposter syndrome despite spending as much time as I could making work. Exposure was highly dependent on putting on shows or finding gallery representation or being accepted by other art groups, and the finished product was all that mattered.  With social media I can now see and connect with people living and making art across the world who I might not have found otherwise. I can show more of myself and the process behind my final output. People can take a glimpse into my studio and vice-versa.  I’ve found a second community I enjoy, along with a mentor, deeper practical skills, and an opportunity to invite in others who aren’t local. I think I have a healthy relationship with social media, and it doesn’t over-run my practice. At the end of the day, it’s just me doing my work.

What are your future goals and aspirations?

I started moving in the direction I have so I can spend more time making my work and improving my craft. I don’t think I’ll ever feel like I’ve made my final piece, but getting closer to that feeling of “this is it” would be nice. I’d like to find more avenues to show my work in person and with other artists. Not going to lie, making a living as an artist is always the dream, but as long as I never stop painting and drawing, I can recognize the joy in that. 

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