"My painting is a product of being a receptive witness of invisible things that shape our psychology and drive our behaviour. I think about our vulnerability, our fears and desires, and how we all seek to be loved. What are the edges between discord and harmony, and how do we protect our resilience?"
Stand 2020
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Portrait w Grounded 2020
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Ingrid McMillan is a German-Canadian painter whose work is about humanity. Her collections are imaginative meditations on compassion and idealism. Each body of work consists of multiple oil paintings grouped around specific themes.
“I construct narratives using figures and nature to metaphorically describe our interiority. I intuitively play at making the intangible tangible.”
Ingrid’s work is influenced by Jungian psychology, spirituality and the psychological nuances in the work of great painters. Ingrid holds a BFA (honours) and MEd (art) degrees from the University of Manitoba, Canada. She worked as art educator, school counsellor and art consultant in a progressive public school division before painting full-time since 2018. Ingrid has two children and lives in Winnipeg, Canada with her husband Mark. Her work is held in collections across Canada, America and Europe.
Stand 2020
You are a German-Canadian. Tell us about how these two cultures influence your art.
Both my parents emigrated from war torn Germany determined to make a new life in Vancouver, Canada. But it proved to be too hard. They divorced and I was raised in Germany with my great aunt until at age 4 I was re-united with my family and stepmom in Winnipeg Canada. My parents were shaped by the trauma of war that influenced me deeply. In Canada our family customs were steeped in the culture of Germany. At home we spoke only German, I was reading German books and attending German School on Saturday mornings. I learned English first playing with the kids on my street, and then in public school, where my fluency improved. I was always drawing my daily impressions and experiences, and at age 12 I fell in love with painting. There were painters on both sides of my family so painting was valued. I have an especially deep appreciation for German Expressionists, Paul Klee, Max Ernst, Max Beckmann, Otto Dix and others. The intensity of German aesthetic resonates for me. Conversely, Canadian art that I was exposed to was narrowly defined by Inuit carvings, Indigenous paintings by Norval Morrisseau, and The Group of Seven.
You have spoken about trying to take your paintings towards human harmony?
In the context of a troubled world I aim to make paintings that reflect my desires in favour of my grievances. When I am broken-hearted about global or personal injustices I consciously redirect my thinking towards how I wish things would be. I think about the conditions that support our longing to be understood and valued, and imagine empowering characters to feel safe and hopeful, to coexist in universal harmony.
Mauer-Brücke Berlin 2019
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Tiergartenufer Berlin 2019
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"There were painters on both sides of my family so painting was valued."
Fastening Work in Studio 2020
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Spring 2020
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What have you learnt about humans through your art?
My painting is a product of being a receptive witness of invisible things that shape our psychology and drive our behaviour. I think about our vulnerability, our fears and desires, and how we all seek to be loved. What are the edges between discord and harmony, and how do we protect our resilience? There is a story of the battles won and lost by a giant of the forest, a 400 year old tree. This tree survived innumerable avalanches, many times struck by lightning, and raging storms. But it was the attacks on its inner strength that levelled the tree to the ground. It had been destroyed by the incessant bites of an army of beetles. Aren’t we all like that battling giant, resilient to a host of traumas only to have our hearts pecked apart by little beetles of concern? Again and again we prop up and polish our exterior, but our internal stamina is amoeba like. Perceived hurts and secrets of self betrayal hide in the recesses of our nervous system and we are most terrorized by our imagined army of demons.
What does art do for you internally?
I think of art as the substance of being alive! It engages the intellect, fills me spiritually, and evolves self discipline, compassion, and patience and more. I love that art is accessible in ways no other language can reach. While I was teaching, making art became a counterbalance to feeling trapped by a mechanical schedule. Since I quit teaching I have no time restrictions. I feel liberated to unleash my messy streams of consciousness on canvas, or experiment to learn what’s possible. Painting demands of me to be deliberate, to trust my intuition and my decisions in the face of self-doubt. I am humbled in the absence of progress or not knowing how to proceed, “What if who I am is not enough?” Conversely, making art is validating and especially exhilarating when surprises emerge. These rigorous cycles of the creative process are exhausting, but I am committed to embracing the whole ball of polarities and feel deep gratitude for finally having the time to fully embrace my passion.
Summer II 2020
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Summer 2020
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"I think of art as the substance of being alive! It engages the intellect, fills me spiritually, and evolves self discipline, compassion, and patience and more."
Submerged II 2020
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Submerged 2020
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Share with us some insight into your process for making paintings.
Usually my paintings begin with an idea that is generated by a mental image or words that I hear or read. It’s like a download that compels me to investigate the thing of the thing. When the idea sticks longer than a few days, it grows into an obsession about the making. I mentally reverse engineer how to translate my vision, and paint a series until the theme stops speaking to me. For example, during my academic studies for school counselling, we practiced intensive mock counselling sessions in the university classroom. I imagined emotions as tangible objects in our brains, made visible by transparent skulls. What physical features would best describe each emotion? What visual vocabulary would evoke each specific feeling? I made endless lists of human emotions and experimented by making about thirty small studies. Of these I selected eighteen to become The Brain Uncoiled. I made each emotion on large 40” square canvas, folding cotton cord in alternating layers of oil paint and glue to mimic the cerebral cortex immersed in brain fluid. I expected having to sew the cotton cord to the canvas. To my delight, the white glue connected it like a natural growth of the canvas. Not only was sewing not required, the glue magically swelled the cotton to perfectly describe tender brain tissue. I still love most paintings in that series, especially Unafraid. Usually I go out to my studio by 9 am, work for 3 hours and then stop for lunch and a walk in my local forest-like park where I am inspired by the ego-less dignity of trees. Then I spend another 4 hours painting in the afternoon. It takes me about two weeks of layering paint to build a painting into itself.
The bodies of work consist of multiple oil paintings grouped around specific themes. Why?
Specific themes emerge as natural extensions of processing my thoughts and feelings. Slow Movement: a cultural reversal, is about observing the paradox of deeply engaged students in a frenetic culture. Other times I illuminate the invisible, or view nature as metaphor. My direct contact with the culture of youth and its increasing obsession with social media, sparked Play to Audience, where theatre stages are platforms for interacting with a collection of invisible friends. Finally, I Love You Anyway was about reclaiming myself as an artist after resigning from a lifestyle that I had outgrown.
Share with us some insight into your process for making paintings.
Usually my paintings begin with an idea that is generated by a mental image or words that I hear or read. It’s like a download that compels me to investigate the thing of the thing. When the idea sticks longer than a few days, it grows into an obsession about the making. I mentally reverse engineer how to translate my vision, and paint a series until the theme stops speaking to me. For example, during my academic studies for school counselling, we practiced intensive mock counselling sessions in the university classroom. I imagined emotions as tangible objects in our brains, made visible by transparent skulls. What physical features would best describe each emotion? What visual vocabulary would evoke each specific feeling? I made endless lists of human emotions and experimented by making about thirty small studies. Of these I selected eighteen to become The Brain Uncoiled. I made each emotion on large 40” square canvas, folding cotton cord in alternating layers of oil paint and glue to mimic the cerebral cortex immersed in brain fluid. I expected having to sew the cotton cord to the canvas. To my delight, the white glue connected it like a natural growth of the canvas. Not only was sewing not required, the glue magically swelled the cotton to perfectly describe tender brain tissue. I still love most paintings in that series, especially Unafraid. Usually I go out to my studio by 9 am, work for 3 hours and then stop for lunch and a walk in my local forest-like park where I am inspired by the ego-less dignity of trees. Then I spend another 4 hours painting in the afternoon. It takes me about two weeks of layering paint to build a painting into itself.
The bodies of work consist of multiple oil paintings grouped around specific themes. Why?
Specific themes emerge as natural extensions of processing my thoughts and feelings. Slow Movement: a cultural reversal, is about observing the paradox of deeply engaged students in a frenetic culture. Other times I illuminate the invisible, or view nature as metaphor. My direct contact with the culture of youth and its increasing obsession with social media, sparked Play to Audience, where theatre stages are platforms for interacting with a collection of invisible friends. Finally, I Love You Anyway was about reclaiming myself as an artist after resigning from a lifestyle that I had outgrown.
Submerged III 2020
"One of the things that I love about painting is its immediacy and how it supports layers of expression. Every new layer interacts with the one still vibrating beneath. This dovetails nicely with my natural way of ordering nebulous, spaghetti-like chaos to become a cohesive unit, where my thinking and painting converge."
"Usually my paintings begin with an idea that is generated by a mental image or words that I hear or read."
Grounded 2020
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Grounded II 2020
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Why are you attracted to painting primarily?
One of the things that I love about painting is its immediacy and how it supports layers of expression. Every new layer interacts with the one still vibrating beneath. This dovetails nicely with my natural way of ordering nebulous, spaghetti-like chaos to become a cohesive unit, where my thinking and painting converge. I appreciate how a painting carries the residual energy of previous days, like thoughts held in a diary. It is also the medium that makes me want to level up my practice to improve as painter.
How has your practice changed over time?
In the early 90’s my life unravelled while attending art school and I exposed my deepest wounds on canvas. The work was honest, but I felt I wasn’t believed and I felt very uncomfortable making other people uncomfortable. Still do. Since painting about trauma failed to relieve internal anguish, I decided to avoid making direct autobiographical statements. Instead, it is satisfying to paint narratives expressing my imagination. Labyrinth of Paradox was a series of over 30 pencil drawings that began with drawing students that I had been unable to connect with because others required all of my attention. While driving home from work, I decided on which students to draw from memory that evening. It was my way of honouring the disciplined quiet students. Finally these drawings became intuitive figurative pencil drawings of communities. For the next four series of paintings, I made preliminary studies to inform larger paintings. Since I stopped teaching in 2018, I have had two years to experiment without time restrictions. Now I paint directly onto the canvas to conjure the initial structure. Editing is increasingly rigorous in that a series of over twenty paintings has been reduced to about seven. As well, for years I wanted to become a figurative painter, now more and more I view nature, especially trees, as metaphor for our inner world. The daily ritual of walking in my local forest-like park has also shifted from being a source of inspiration to a source of reference. Since being on Instagram I share my work and follow profiles that expedite my learning about current art production, art criticism and art exhibition. Thanks to the generosity of the Instagram art community, I am informed, entertained, and feel connected in spite of working alone in the studio.
You were an art teacher with up to 400 students a year for 22 years. How has being an educator shaped you?
Teaching gave me a golden opportunity to experience youth in their natural habitat of public school. Every day I had the best seat in the house for the art of life. It was rewarding and humbling and exhausting! Still, I felt incredibly privileged to be infected by the energy, humour and innocence of youth. The challenges included designing curriculum, fitting the organic nature of art making into a mechanical time table, and formally assessing each student three times a year. It was relentless work, but summers offered respite for painting. Teaching instilled in me a disciplined work ethic. As artist, I was protected by regular financial support and from taking myself too seriously. The diversity among schools represented a cross section of society that fit my bird’s eye view of the world. It was fertile ground to conceive my own art in the series Slow Movement 2010, The Brain Uncoiled 2012, Dream Home 2014, Play To Audience 2018. Finally, teaching placed me in a professional political arena that helped me learn how to navigate the competitive climate in a healthy way.
Stand II 2020
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The One Less Travelled 2020
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"I like many artists or their specific work at different times and for different reasons. The common thread in the art of my favourites is emotional warmth or human resilience. Usually but not exclusively, they are figurative painters."
"One of the most meaningful experiences of my life was being an art educator in a public school system where I conceived and executed large projects with students, adults and artists."
Tribe 2020
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Spring 2020 detail
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Which artists have you been most impressed by?
I like many artists or their specific work at different times and for different reasons. The common thread in the art of my favourites is emotional warmth or human resilience. Usually but not exclusively, they are figurative painters, loosely listed here. In my teens I collected posters of work by Paul Peel, Rembrandt, and Winslow Homer. In art school I was impressed by Rubins and Michelangelo. Later my favourite painting was The White House at Chelsea, 1800 by Thomas Girtin, Woman in White, 1923 by Picasso, Agnes Martin and Turner. I love Self Portrait, 1658 by Rembrandt in The Frick, NYC. Also, Bosch, Delacroix, Goya, Manet, Matisse, Odilon Redon, Eva Hesse, Francis Bacon, Jennifer Packer, Eric Fischl, Kiki Smith, Peter Doig, Dana Schutz, and others.
Tell us about your two recent exhibitions - 'I Love You Anyway in Berlin', and 'Pandemic 2020'.
The summer of 2018 marked two concurrent life changing events: I quit teaching and my father had died. This propelled me to arrange a three month self-directed artist residency in Berlin, where I had dreamed of studying thirty years ago. There I reclaimed my life and myself as artist. Berlin, itself loaded with the spirit of revival, was the perfect place to mark my homecoming from a mountain of grief. I made twelve figurative paintings about embracing our internal shadow, as in Jungian psychology, to arrive at self-love. Sometimes I painted 14 hours a day to squelch self doubt. When not painting, I walked and Ubered all over Berlin, visiting as many museums and galleries as I could. We prepared for a real life solo exhibition that included four exquisite works by a young local emerging artist, and was reviewed on the day of the opening in the Berliner Zeitung, January 7, 2020 by the local journalist Ingeborg Ruthe. Conversely, a few Pandemic paintings were among an online group show in the UK. Back in Winnipeg I had made a series about the mysterious threat of Covid 19 that spooked us all. These works are about my daily commune with my local forest-like park where I projected the menacing qualities of nature.
Share with us some of the highlights of your art career thus far.
One of the most meaningful experiences of my life was being an art educator in a public school system where I conceived and executed large projects with students, adults and artists. Other highlights include, making Slow Movement and driving the paintings across Canada to exhibit and talk in three galleries in British Columbia. The residencies in Ontario, Canada and Berlin, Germany were important for my artistic growth. Finally, now that I am free to think and do whatever I want, I consider every joyful day in the studio a highlight!
Website: www.ingridmcmillan.com