SUNNUP SLOWDOWNS
with EVIE CAHIR
VOLUME 04.
Sunnup Slowdowns is a series exploring what it means to prioritise connection, to relish in gathering, to seek out beauty and to inspire rest & leisure. We seek to find how each of these inspiring friends make the most of moments in our fast paced world.
Words & Images
Yaseera Moosa
I got to know Evie during lockdown in 2020. We delivered each other postcards, drawings, notes, and lists of feelings and observations. To me, the experience is closely associated with that very particular period of long walks and drawn out rumination. But the habit of close observation to transient feelings and shifting light has characterised Evie’s practice long before and since.
In languid interior vignettes or vast sunset gradients, her work is underpinned by a close attention to sunlight, and a faithful devotion to colour. Looking at Evie’s work is visceral more than visual - one sense becomes a vehicle for the whole body. It has the feeling of plunging into an icy rock pool, falling asleep in the sun - warm, expansive, as familiar as it is transportive. The paintings feel like summer, so it makes sense that we caught up towards the end of a long week of high-thirties days to bask in the sun, and watch the sky change.
Your new studio is a little way out of the city, and close to the ocean. Do you think this is shaping the work you’ve been doing since moving here?
It is, yes! I have painted myself from memory many times now swimming with goggles on, admiring the fish that I see in the bay. I also notice that I paint in quick bursts with lots of colour when I first arrive at the studio, kind of getting my excitement out of the way [ excitement about the plan to swim during my lunch-break] before settling into a more drawn-out stint at the desk.
Do you have any studio rituals?
Yep, I christen the space each time I arrive by hitting play on ‘Watermusic’ by William Bassinki, which is pretty much a continuous ambient sound that goes for an hour. This ritual settles and razzes me simultaneously, because I associate it with planning, painting and playing. I also stop at a cafe at the midway point of my journey to the studio and get a little coffee and look over my diary and calendar so that I am as present as possible once I arrive.
Do you have a favorite place or setting where you feel most at peace and creatively inspired?
Yes, when I’m walking! If I walk for long enough I get past the initial boredom and expectations and enter into a sweet spot where I am simply curious and inspired by practically anything. It usually happens in the second hour of walking - and it could be anywhere.
What are you packing for a day trip?
Not too much, usually just lunch and a banana. I’ve been throwing back those fishy Sirena Instant Lunches, you know the kind that feels like you’re eating SpaceFood? Or if I’m lucky my boyfriend makes me a really nutritious wrap. Also my cap, bathers and headphones to speed through the commute home with a good podcast.
What do you listen to while painting?
Long ambient mixes on soundcloud - no spoken word or unexpected changes so that I can stay in the wermhole [flow state].
What are you reading / do you have a book that you often return to?
So the last one I re-read was ‘Screwtape Letters’ by C.S Lewis, it’s very clever. I return to Max Olijnyk’s book ‘Some Stories’ a lot because I enjoy the frank observations and dry humour. I also love Miranda July’s freaky short stories in ‘No One Belongs Here More Than You’ and I actually ‘read’ a children's picture book called ‘Sunshine’ by Jan Ormerod quite a bit - the pacing and light is inspiring.
What advice would you give to others looking to slow down and reconnect with creativity?
Well. I have a lot to say on this, because I think about it and write about it in my diary most days. For me, the combination of slowing down and reconnecting with creativity equates to a sense of Awe. So, my advice would be to first prepare for Awe - I would first slow down the breath. To do so I vividly imagine the impossible task of softening my teeth, then I imagine the sensation of full-body goosebumps, then I relax my eyes and the tiny muscles around them. I make sure I’m wearing shoes I can walk for hours in, leave the phone at home if possible and as I walk and look I become receptive to the idea of being capable of painting / drawing anything I see and set my mind to. Not having to explain anything to anyone with words but simply being a conduit for what you experienced, using whatever creatives means you have usually works a treat - could be using plasticine, a trumpet, a bunch of twigs, banana peel, grubby old pastels or your voice!
Evie Cahir is an artist, living and working in Melbourne, Australia.
@_eviecahir_
eviechair.com
