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DARCY BRENNA

Darcy Brenna paints with an animated urgency in which tranquil tenderness coexists with her gestural and intuitive mark making. Like streams of consciousness, her fluid brushstrokes capture the boundless complexity of human emotion and the female experience in unapologetic and emotionally charged paintings.

Your work is characterised by the layering of expressive brushstrokes, which come together to form paintings that exude a really raw and powerful sense of emotion. Can you describe your process and how the physicality of your brushwork relates to your practice?

Personally, I find that the process is just as important as the final outcome. I like working with large canvases because they allow my body to connect with my mind. I think of it like a form of somatic movement, where the focus is on the internal experience. I’ve found in the past that when I paint on a smaller scale, my range of movement is very rigid and confined, but when I work on a large canvas, I’m able to really put my whole body into the work. It’s a very physical act.

In regards to the layering of my work, I think of it as a dialogue between a child and a critic within me. First, I allow the child to come and play freely, and then the critic steps in to judge and rework the piece. I believe it’s this dynamic within myself that creates the layers. Sometimes, I can paint (up to) ten or twenty layers, each representing different conversations I had with myself during the process. In the end, all the layers become an echo of emotions.

When dealing with work that is so linked to your personal experiences, is there a cathartic quality to unleashing this energy on the canvas?

There definitely is. When I paint, it’s the only time when my mind feels linear. I’m a very emotional and reactive person, so sometimes, painting can be very confronting for me. It tells me things about myself I didn’t know yet – or didn’t want to face yet. Over time, I’ve learnt to think of painting as a conversation between myself and the paint. But, for example, when I first started the residency, I was still painting very figuratively. Now, my work has become a lot more abstract because I do think I’ve learnt to see painting as something cathartic, like a direct response to how I’m feeling in a specific moment. However, figures and bodies will always be found in my work. I think you just need to search for them now.

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Speaking of the residency, last year you completed the Tracey Emin Artist Residency – how was that experience for you and in what ways did it impact your work?

Well, firstly the trust and belief from Tracey made me take myself a lot more seriously. I’ve always known I was going to be an artist, but having a world-renowned artist believing in me was really important. I also think having an actual studio space, in comparison to working from my living room, really changed my practice. I had never painted a large canvas before the residency, because of limited space, but Tracey came in with this huge canvas after I said I was feeling so claustrophobic painting small. I still remember the feeling when I painted that first canvas – it was the best feeling in the world.

I was also introduced to new routines during the residency. For example, we had to write a poem every week, which I found has drastically changed the way I paint. I’ve never considered myself a poet – or a writer even – but now I find that I either paint from my poems or I write poems based on my paintings. Then we did life-drawing every two weeks, which taught me a lot about abstraction and mark-making. Now, when I approach a painting, I recognize that within the abstraction, there’s a figure.

I’m interested in learning more about your approach to color. Your work showcases a wide range of tones, from delicate pink palettes to rich, oceanic blues, as well as black-and-white pieces that seem to exclude color altogether. What role would you say colour has in your work and the feelings you are trying to depict?

I don’t like the idea of limiting myself to one colour palette because I find that colour speaks in a different way than brush strokes do. A brush stroke in blue will look completely different to the same brush stroke in black, because colour adds an innate element of storytelling. So, when I paint, I try to lay out all my paints and see what my gut tells me to do – it’s a very intuitive process. But a lot of my work has an overriding theme of death, life and rebirth, and over time I have found that those themes are reflected in the colours of my paintings. That being said, I also think living in Margate made me fall in love with the sea, and that has definitely made a lifelong impression on me. I see aspects of the sea, like the way it moves in stormy weather, reflected in my work all the time.

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I read that you don’t plan or create preparatory drawings when approaching a new piece, but that you paint instinctively – is there a particular goal you have in mind when you start painting, or do you allow the work to guide you?
Honestly, I allow the work to guide me. I have my sketchbooks and my poetry, and when I paint, I listen to music, which I think pushes the work in a certain direction. But overall, I find that not planning the work creates something more real, raw and personal. In fact, I think that if I did try to plan it, the final result would end up looking entirely different anyway.
That sounds like it requires a lot of trust in yourself to tackle a canvas without knowing where the work is going. Is that a skill you’ve had to develop or did you always approach art in that way?
That’s a really interesting question. I think I’ve always had that quality. In fact, I remember having an art teacher who said I had an innate ability to not judge what I was doing. I guess the inner child I described earlier was actually a child back then. But she recognised that and told me I had to make sure to not lose that playfulness. Was it Picasso who said it took him four years to learn to paint, but a lifetime to paint like a child? I also think the residency changed how I approach my art. I painted every single day for eighteen months, which definitely built a resistance to self-doubt. I still struggle with it sometimes, but now I have a sense of peace, knowing I will eventually create the work that I want.
Finally, soon you will be showcasing your work at Art Rotterdam and at Homecoming Gallery in Amsterdam – what’s next for you and what are you most looking forward to in the development of your practice?
I have a solo-show planned for next year, but the main thing for me is to just keep painting – every day. I’m also really curious to see how my work will evolve after I move across the country. I’ve obviously been living by the sea the past few years, and I’m going to move to the North of England soon, where I’ll be living opposite a Church and a cemetery. I’m really interested to see if that will affect my work, just because of what a huge impact Margate had on it. I’m actually really looking forward to this next step.
txt by Veronica Allara