Member’s Spotlight

Connor Charlesworth

Connor Charlesworth is a contemporary visual artist currently based in Kelowna on unceeded Sylix territory. He received his MFA from the University of Victoria (2018) with a specialization in painting, and his BFA from the University of British Columbia in Kelowna (2015) with a minor in Art History and Visual Culture. His subject matter varies, however his current work is primarily concerned with the space between painted images and objects; often looking back at the history of modernist painting. Connor has taught drawing and painting at the University of Victoria, Thompson Rivers University, and the University of British Columbia in Kelowna.

Kirsteen: How would you describe your studio practice? 

Connor: It changes a lot… but I think I’m settling into some form of consistency. Not visually in the work I make, but maybe in the way I approach making work.


In terms of a practice, the biggest part is showing up. When I don’t show up to the studio, I deny possibilities. Sometimes I trick myself by saying “I’ll go to the studio to do some prep or some cleaning”, and then I'll lift my head up to some half-assed painting and say “that needs work”… and there’s the entry point. For me, the best paintings straddle the line between what’s familiar and unknown. Those paintings you look at and are able to grasp something, but then it falls away. For example in this exhibition, the smaller panels on the salon wall begin with a tangible source or reference but that reference gets put through the wringer. Sometimes evidence of that initial reference will be important, sometimes not. Often I will get to a point in a painting when the work starts to tell me “this is about something else”. Those volatile moments are both uncomfortable and exhilarating. Failure is important in the studio. I set up my space in ways that discourage a kind of slickness or refine. I’ve learned that about myself… when I pre-determine or overly-plan my work, it falls flat. Its funny because I’m not a very spontaneous person, but the studio provides that outlet for me. 

Untitled No.5

Oil, enamel, gouache, and collage on cradled wood panel

14 x 18 in

K: Are there any artists who inspire you visually or conceptually? 

C: That also changes a lot! It depends on the day… Maybe I’ll mention some that have stood the test of time for me. It might seem trendy as a painter to say Philip Guston, but there’s a reason! He was working with the Abstract Expressionists in New York in the mid 20th century, but made a kind of gutsy pivot to figuration. Lots of folks thought it to be career suicide at the time, but those figurative works have an energy that’s so unique to him. Its always a treat standing in front of one… Likewise if I’m thinking about surface quality I have to mention Susan Rothenberg. I saw a handful of them in Los Angeles last summer, and she really packs so much love and labour into those scrubby surfaces. Marsden Hartley is someone I’ve been looking at a lot over the past year. He was an American Modernist painter from Maine. He spent a couple summers up in Nova Scotia living and working with a family of fishermen who lived about a half hour away from my relatives. That has been a really interesting narrative to follow. He went through several stages in his painting practice, but I’m most attracted to his works that employ this unapologetic chunky awkwardness… A couple works in the exhibition pull from his work. I do that sometimes… I’m interested in the recycling of motifs. More recently, artists who I’ve been looking at would be Brenda Draney, who is a contemporary Cree painter. I’ve never seen someone use blank or negative space the way she does. The painted marks and wide open blank areas feel equally charged and important. Sometimes I find myself looking at artists who maybe I initially don’t really like or am skeptical of. For example Richard Aldrich or Raoul De Keyser. Its interesting how time has changed my perspective on these artists… I’m not sure I can pinpoint why, but the intrigue is inspiring I guess. 

K: Your work goes through many phases, how do you know when the work has come to an end?

C: I try to avoid formulas as much as I can. Each work presents its own set of challenges and requirements. So in that sense its hard to answer. I think if I pull back, I know a work is done when it has a life of its own. Sometimes that life happens very quickly, other times very slowly. I often find myself chasing surprise in the studio… So a lot of that has to do with failing, rebuilding, reevaluating, listening, and pivoting. I think I get most excited about works which kind of baffle me. They begin with a concrete reference or a source, but end up as something new. Its a kind of work that’s hard to talk about, but has something to do with change, pivoting, and getting to know something. Which I think are great skills in just being a human! 


K: Speaking of change and pivots, the wood working/ constructed element in your work is fairly new. What convinced you to begin working in this way? 

C: I think it was a combination of things… Part of it was the fact that I needed to slim down my inventory of stretcher bars so I reclaimed some of that lumber. Part of it was that I had acquired some new tools, and probably the strongest draw was a longing to try something new. My skill set in constructing and assembling things is pretty limited. I’m by no means a wood-worker or furniture maker or carpenter. That’s evident in the work. I also didn’t want that to become a crutch, so as soon as the construction of things started to become too sloppy I consulted with people who knew more than me. The work “Even seagulls love the shape of roses” began with the idea of making this bird motif float or hover. The physics of it was totally over my head. I have no clue how velocity, weight, airflow, and drag work… So this piece functions about 50% of the time. There are periods when the bird will get stuck and not move for hours, but then someone will walk past and cause just enough of a draft for it to catch the wind again. Other times it will spiral and fly out of the top. It makes for an interesting viewing experience and part of the work is me dealing with its failure. I like to call it a “prototype”… probably because that implies I will solve that problem at a later date... haha! 



Untitled No.4

Oil, enamel, gouache, and collage on cradled wood panel

14 x 18 in