Artist Q & A: Cori Creed

In anticipation of her new solo exhibition Stratum, Vancouver based artist Cori Creed discusses the balance and interplay of representation and abstraction and what continues to captivate her about British Columbia's coastal landscape.
Stratum officially opens at Bau-Xi Vancouver on December 6 and runs through December 22, 2025.


Cori Creed, Return to Ocean Falls, acrylic and oil on canvas, 44 x 84 inches.
 
1. You describe each brushstroke as part of a shifting geology. How conscious are you of the eventual ‘burial’ or ‘resurfacing’ of marks while you’re painting, and how much is left to chance or intuition?

This is a constant tension for me with my current work - I have been trying to leave more of the underpainting and initial layers revealed to create space in the compositions. I can fall in love with textures or areas in my underpainting where the paint has settled in an interesting way. I am always tempted to hold on to those precious places, but there are times when it doesn’t work with the overall piece and I need to grit my teeth and bury them. I do find the exercise of leaving space so much harder than filling it. 

 

2. There are some striking nighttime paintings in this new collection – what are some of the joys and challenges of painting nighttime landscapes?

I am drawn to the deep rich dark colours and the subtle shifts that you can see as you approach a scene at night. I often hike at night with a headlamp, and I like the way large forms and textural branches emerge in different stages from the darkness. With lights, camera and a tripod, I can paint my reference with photo lights and create the photos that I bring to my studio to translate the experience onto my canvas. 

 

3. Your work seeks the essence rather than the literalness of a place. What elements of a landscape linger with you the longest? Light, movement, atmosphere, sound, mood?
 
This is like asking me what my favourite colour is! It shifts with the wind. I am always captivated by light - the way it wraps and peeks into forms, as well as the dramatic changes it brings to a scene. I feel very conscious of time when I am sketching, shooting or just observing a subject -buoyed and fascinated by it, but also deeply regretful when contemplating the change that time inevitably will bring. This sadness is not necessarily logical, because of course there will often be a moment even more stunning in the future, but still the premature nostalgia comes.
Inspiration is hard to explain - it is not always the obvious or easy composition that ignites my desire to translate it, so mood and atmosphere created by signals to all the senses do come into play. 

4. What signals to you that a piece has struck the right balance between recognizability and abstraction?

My goal is to tell my story with enough detail so that I will recall, and the viewer will see, the essence of my experience while leaving space for breath and interpretation. The mark-making and pushing of the mediums are also crucial to the mix. It is a balance, and I value each part of the process. 

5. You have long been a champion of British Columbia’s coastal landscape in your paintings – even with elements of abstraction, your works capture the spirit of the region. How have you come to know the landscape so well over the years, and have you witnessed any changes in it due to climate change, etc. that you have incorporated in the work?

Exploration of our coast, forests and mountains is part of my daily routine for so many reasons. I have certainly witnessed changes along the coast, most notably with the arbutus trees. I have favourites that I was able to paint in their prime and subsequently document their decline. Climate models predict that we will see fewer and fewer of these trees in the future - more extreme temperature fluctuations and pollutants weaken the defenses of these fragile trees and make them more susceptible to insects, bacteria and fungi. 

While there are many more changes happening with increased winds in the forests and warming water temperatures, I generally focus on the rejuvenation and discovery that being in our wild places brings me. If I paint the end of a tree’s life cycle, it is not a cautionary piece as much as a recognition of the grace that can be found in every stage of life. My hope from a conservation standpoint would be to encourage love of and visits to these places. The more value people find in the natural world, the more they want to contribute in their way to protect and preserve it.