Today, I am excited to spotlight Erica Helder, whom I met on Threads last year. Erica Helder is a Canadian abstract artist located in Brant, Ontario, Canada. Working in the non-traditional medium of ink, she seeks to explore the stories of the human condition through colour and movement. Cendrine Marrouat: Hello Erica! How did you get started as an artist? Any particular story?  Erica Helder: Like most kids, I spent much of my childhood immersed in art projects. I grew up the child of a single mother with a disability, so there wasn’t always enough money for things like art supplies. Our local Food Bank and Community Care center was staffed by wonderful women who often saved donated supplies for me.  For my twelfth birthday, those same women (along with the help of many members of our small community) sponsored me to study under a local artist. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, I would pack up my hodgepodge of paints and sit in the garden-shed-turned-studio of Kaye Crabtree, painstakingly recreating photos of iconic Canadian landscapes into detailed oil paintings. She taught me how to paint, how to navigate the art world, and how to live a creatively inspired life. CM: How often do you make pieces? And what does your creative process usually look like? EH: I work a full-time job growing flowering trees and shrubs in addition to my art practice. It means that I spend most of my days on the farm, and most of my evenings and weekends in the studio. My studio time can sometimes feel scarce, but it helps to make it feel sacred.  My creative process, however, is almost always running.  I consider the farm an extension of my creativity; breathing in inspiration from the sun and flowers throughout the days, only to exhale them all in the studio at night. I’ve begun to stash sketchbooks all over the place, so I can always have one ready to capture my ideas when inspiration strikes. CM: In your bio, you state that you started working with the medium of inks as “a way to give up control and learn to accept life as it is.” Could you expand on this? What sparked the idea? EH: I’ve been engaged in a battle with my inner perfectionist for as long as I can remember. I have often found myself needing to control and perfect every detail of my life. This manifested itself in my work early in my art career.  At first, it felt like an advantage for a photorealistic oil painter, but it was always a double-edged sword. I didn’t take creative risks, because I was afraid to fail. I didn’t apply for any opportunities unless I was fully confident I would get them. As I began to work my way into stylized and abstracted pieces, I felt a shift happening in those mindsets. Giving up the need for control; the need for perfection; it introduced an element of play into my art that I had never felt.  The first time I tried ink, I failed miserably – and loved it. They were so hard to control. They bled and moved and blended in a way that frustrated every part of my inner perfectionist. They were a beautifully infuriating challenge, and it was love at first piece. CM: Do you find that your past experience as a landscape painter influences the way you work with inks? If so, why do you think it is the case?  EH: Absolutely! Having a background in landscapes means knowing the rules of colour and composition. Working with inks also means pushing the envelope on which rules were made to be broken. Some, like the rule of thirds or the balance of light and dark, are just as crucial for creating compelling abstracts. Others, like refining details in the foreground and implying them in the background, can be broken into nearly as many pieces as you want.  I have also found a lot of value in remembering the way you direct the eye through a piece with landscapes; you can do the same with abstracts if you balance colour with movement. CM: What are the two pieces that you feel sum up your style as an artist? If so, why? EH: “The space between” (12”x16”) From one of my earlier collection releases, this piece was part of an exploration of the concept of ‘longing’. It expresses the unsatisfactory realization that we always exist in the space between who we were, and who we are to become; longing to move to the latter but always carrying along the former. It was one of the first pieces where I began to play with how simple colour and movement could convey complex emotions. Inks are a generally vibrant medium, often taking over the piece with bright colours and maximalist compositions. This piece, like much of my work, does the opposite. It relies on simple, muted tones and empty whitespace to draw the eye through a complex emotion.  “The feral things name me” (16”x20”) From my most recent collection, this piece was part of an exploration of our inner wild. It serves as a reminder to be unabashedly wild, free, and feral. In my years of working with inks, these deep and velvety greens have become a staple in my collections. I often use them to represent growth, but play with their depth and movement to further extend the metaphors.  When telling stories with abstract art, monotone pieces can be quite the challenge; how do you add layers of complexity with a single colour? But time and time again, I find myself coming back to these greens to tell one more piece of the story of what it means to be human. CM: What or who influences your work the most? EH: This will likely sound cliche, but by far my greatest influence is mother earth. I find most of my inspiration by spending time in nature, looking for small magic. I like to practice the art of noticing; paying close attention to the mundane things most people might miss. Things like a small murder of crows, or a particularly soft patch of moss will often catch my eye. I take that inspiration back with me to the studio, and look for stories to tell with it. CM: Is there an art medium that you would like to try? EH: I fully believe in the old adage of “never say never”, but I’m currently so happy creating with ink that I can’t imagine going back to a more traditional medium. I have lately been enjoying introducing my inks to other media, however. I’m currently exploring ways to build texture overtop of my ink pieces, and I would love to find a way to bring my inks to life through larger installations and three-dimensional pieces. CM: What is one artistic quirk that you feel makes you unique among your peers? EH: Being an artist who also grows flowers for a living means that I have a particular seasonality to my practice. I tend to work by the light, and by the seasons. I fully embrace the awakening of the spring, the drive of summer, the comedown of autumn, and the hibernation of winter. I often find my creativity is intertwined with daylight hours, and my collection releases often align with the seasonal shifts.I think it sets my art practice apart from others, because seasons of rest and hustle are naturally baked into my studio. CM: What would you like people to learn from your work? EH: I strive to make my art accessible in a lot of different ways, and I think the art world could benefit from a stronger lens on accessibility. Abstract art is, by nature, less accessible than realism; the average person is able to recognize the subject of a still life painting, for example.  One of the ways I aim for accessibility, is to bring the viewer into the journey of the art. I happily bring my audience through every step of the process, from initial inspiration and conception, down to the specific colour and composition choices and what they seek to demonstrate. I try to keep my prices within reach of the everyday person, for the same reason; I prefer my art to be accessible to anyone who may come across it.  The majority of my pieces become the first original painting someone has ever purchased. This kind of approach may not necessarily be a conventional one, but I think it helps bridge some of the gaps between the “art world” and the “real world”. CM: According to you, what role does art play in society? And do you see this role changing in the near future?  EH: Currently, I believe art is often seen as a means to an end; a logo to help your business stand out; a trendy illustration for a social media blurb; maybe a billboard to help drum up some business. I think this is why AI strikes fear into the hearts of so many artists: this is the type of art that AI will excel at. It often feels as though art serves at the feet of capitalism. But I believe art is meant to heal us. I believe it’s meant to be a way to connect us to our community, to our own self-expression, and to the world around us.  I don’t know that I see the entire role of art shifting that way anytime soon, but I take a lot of solace in seeing artists around the world beginning to decouple their art from the machine. I hope that trend continues, and we can remember the beauty of creativity and self-expression over the business of branding and profit margins. CM: Anything else people should know? EH: I believe the single greatest gift to my creativity was learning to seek (and find) small magic. Inspiration can be a fickle thing for creative types; blocked by emotion or a lack of time, or any number of life’s stressors. But learning to find inspiration in the smallest and most subtle of things can revolutionize your creativity! Start looking more closely at the tiny details of the world around you. Start listening to your intuition when something catches your eye, even for a second. I believe there is magic there, and I believe it can change the way you see the world. Support Erica Helder’s work!

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