Artist Q & A: Sheila Kernan

For her new solo exhibition Refresh, Calgary based artist Sheila Kernan offers a window into how she balances realism and abstraction with a refined, multi-layered approach, capturing the essence, energy and raw emotiveness of the Canadian coastal landscape.

Refresh opens at Bau-Xi Vancouver on August 8 and runs through August 22, 2026.

Sheila Kernan, Echoes of a Clear Mind. Mixed Media on Canvas Wrapped Panel, 36 x 72 inches.


1. The West Coast landscape has a rich history within Canadian painting, from early modernist interpretations to contemporary approaches. How do you see your work participating in, or departing from, this broader artistic conversation around landscape?

My work honors the rich history of Canadian landscape painting by continuing to explore its core themes: light, nature, and an emotional connection. As a contemporary painter, I’m drawn to bold simplifications that highlight not just the subject, but the materials themselves. The paint, the surface, the texture - these are just as important as the image. I want the viewer to see the different characteristics of the materials used to create the painting, to feel the gesture, and to recognize the physicality of the work.

I’m less interested in merely documenting a place. Rather, I am constructing one - a sanctuary shaped by longing, memory, and the possibility of what could be. In this way, I’m expanding the conversation beyond representation into something more personal and transformative.

2. Your work exists in a compelling space between realism and abstraction. How do you navigate representing a recognizable place and transforming it into something more emotional, symbolic, or dreamlike?

My work does hover between realism and abstraction. I find it’s a pendulum, one that gives me room to play between the two. When I paint, it’s not about filling in every detail, but about creating a visual rhythm - leaving some information out so the mind can complete the picture.

There’s a moment when the viewer’s imagination kicks in, working to connect the dots and fill in the spaces. That’s where the magic happens. It’s by design. I’m aiming to facilitate an experience that invites participation. A half-seen reflection, a blurred edge, a gap in the trees - each becomes a quiet prompt: What do you see? Where does this take you?
It’s like visual poetry: the painting says just enough to spark a feeling, then steps back and lets the viewer meet it halfway. My hope is that all the different fragmented layers I work with help achieve this. It's about held space - room for the mind to breathe, connect, and complete.

3. Many of your water landscapes feature striking reflections of trees and rocks. What draws you to these mirrored moments, both visually and conceptually?
 
Reflections have always drawn me in because they’re both real and unreal. They show what’s there, but also what isn’t: a world turned upside down, softened, fractured, or blurred by movement. Visually, they create rhythm and depth, pulling the eye between surface and beneath, between solid form and fleeting image.

But conceptually, they feel even richer. A reflection is a moment suspended - neither fully land nor water, neither still nor moving. It mirrors, but never perfectly. It holds a version of the truth, but one that shifts with the light, the wind, the ripple. That duality fascinates me.
There’s also something quiet and introspective about them, like looking into a memory or a feeling just out of reach. When I paint a reflection, I’m not just capturing what’s on the surface. I’m trying to catch that in-between space where the world pauses, and for a moment, everything feels possible.

4. You mention “the play of white” and “the sharpness of value” as important elements in finding moments of calm in this new collection. Can you elaborate on how these elements function within these compositions?
 
White is never empty for me - it’s active, alive. The play of white isn’t just about light; it’s about breath. It’s the pause between notes, the space between thoughts. I use it to slow the eye, to create stillness within the composition. It activates the rest of the colours and refreshes the entire painting. 
 
And value - its sharpness - is what gives the work its pulse. The contrast between deep shadow and bright highlight creates tension, and also clarity. It’s that clarity that leads to calm. When the eye can move easily from dark to light, from form to void, the mind follows. The sharpness doesn’t shout - it settles.
 
Together, white and value shape the rhythm of the piece. They guide the viewer not through detail, but through feeling. A wide band of white isn’t just sky or mist; it’s an invitation to reset. A sudden shift in value isn’t just form; it’s a moment of focus. In a world full of noise, these elements are my way of saying: Here. This is where you can stop.

Sheila Kernan, The Pause that Feeds. Mixed Media on Canvas Wrapped Panel, 36 x 24 inches.

5. You are well known for your use of multiple techniques, as well as saturated colour, strong graphic forms, and expressive painterly gestures. What does experimentation look like in your studio, and how do you approach the use of these techniques when shaping various elements of a painting, such as mood and emotional experience?
 
Experimentation, for me, is where discipline meets discovery. I plan my compositions carefully, visualizing how each element will contribute to the whole. But I also stay open to the unexpected - those magical moments in the process that I can’t control, but instantly know I want to keep.

New techniques often begin with curiosity: What if I try this? Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. I reflect on it and break it down - testing drying times, humidity, layering order - and keep detailed notes. I treat each breakthrough like a recipe, building a visual record I can return to. The studio becomes a kind of science lab, where every test adds to a growing language of marks.

And each technique isn’t just a method - it’s a decision in service of feeling. Whether it’s timing a stencil pull or getting resin just tacky enough to work with, these details shape the mood, the breath, the presence of each painting.

Sheila Kernan, Reset. Mixed Media on Canvas Wrapped Panel, 36 x 36 inches.


6. The creation and construction of your paintings require both intense attention to detail and also the distillation of detail, as well as a deep investment of time. How does the extended act of creating fit into the fast-paced world we experience today?

It’s a challenge in this world. We’re constantly flooded with images, and there’s so much pressure to speed up, to produce, to perform. But I’ve learned that real work - work that matters - takes time. Staying in the flow, concentrating deeply, and seeing a vision through to the end requires determination, tenacity, and plain old hard work. I’m not afraid of that effort. I’ll see an idea through, no matter how long it takes.

When it finally comes together after endless hours in the studio, that sense of accomplishment is profound. To get there, I need to protect the space. I zone out from outside pressures, stay up late if I must, and disappear into my studio bubble. That’s where the focus lives.

And honestly, that’s also why I don’t always document the process for social media. I’d rather be in the work than watching myself do it. The painting comes first. Everything else can wait.

Sheila Kernan, West Coast Dreams. Mixed Media on Canvas Wrapped Panel, 36 x 48 inches.


7. After years of painting landscapes, is there anything that continues to surprise you about the act of looking closely at the natural world?
 
I could look at the same landscape a thousand times and still see something new. It’s an obsession - hunting for subtle shifts or finding bold ways to reinterpret something familiar. Getting lost in observation is essential. Every time I look, whether at a new scene or a well-known one, the natural world reveals something I didn’t see before. Its perpetually changing and that’s extraordinary. 

The artist at her Calgary, Alberta studio.