Kate Oliver

Life is too complex and overlapping for me to make art about just one thing. That’s why “ontology” feels like the right word for my practice. Feminism, grief, anger, joy, childhood they’re all part of life, but none captures it entirely. For a painting to feel alive, it needs to hold all of it at once.

Painting is when my racing thoughts begin to slow—not because they stop, but because they flow into the work. It’s cathartic, meditative, and urgent. Having lived with mental illness from a young age, I know that creativity heals, though I’m still exploring why and how. I often paint on the floor to reduce formality and intimidation. A flat canvas invites movement, and gravity behaves differently—thin paint pools, blends, and transforms. overnight in unpredictable ways, much like glaze in a kiln.

Colour is central to my work. Inspired by Northumberland skies, I’ve developed a personal palette system using intuitive terms like “juicy,” “spicy,” and “milky.” Each painting needs a balance of these qualities. Though hard to define, this colour language is instinctive—a reflection of the ongoing questions I ask myself while I paint.

“My practice is rooted in ontology and the nature of being. Thinking about the human experience and trying to put that onto canvas with paint is almost a ridiculous concept, but for me personally it’s very cathartic.”

6 questions with Kate Oliver

We ask our emerging artists 6 questions to uncover what drives their work, practice, and creativity.

What themes or questions do you find recurring in your work?

I think a lot about what it means to be a painter in our modern world, and why I have chosen that form of communication. I think about what it means to be a woman in today's society. Painting is my way of channeling and processing my emotions, it’s an outlet that I’ve relied on heavily for my own well being. I have works that come from joy, from grief, anger, fear and love. Thinking about the human experience and trying to put that onto canvas with paint is almost a ridiculous concept, but for me personally it’s very cathartic.

Can you describe a pivotal moment in your journey as an artist?

I think it was when I decided that I wanted it to be my job, and I started calling myself an ‘artist’. When I moved to London to do my degree because I was so obsessed with painting, and found loads of people who felt the same way, it felt like the right place to be. I was nervous and scared of doing it, and wasn’t sure if it would work out and I know now it was the best decision I’ve made!

What materials or processes are most important in your practice - and why?

Water is very important. I water down acrylic paint to different viscosities, and then allow them to interact with each other on a canvas, water gives the paint an unpredictable quality that I really like. I lay the canvas on the floor so gravity can’t interrupt, and the colours seep into each other and quite often make very interesting patterns and marks. Colour is very important to me as well, I feel like colour anchors my work and I like strong bold colours.

How do you want people to feel when they experience your work?

Honestly as long as you feel something I am happy. They are paintings about being. They’re supposed to be quite universal and I’d hope that everyone can see something in them that brings a memory or a feeling to them. Abstract painting is such a special form of communication in that sense, in that everyone's interpretation is equally valid and meaningless. I’m really interested in conversations around the interpretation of abstract work and how it’s very intellectualised, when it could be something very instinctual and direct.

What does a typical day in your studio look like?

A lot of sitting thinking. I would say I spend 20% of my time in the studio actually painting, and the other 80% thinking, reading, looking at other people's art, panicking, procrastinating. At my university studios I was definitely wandering around distracting people a lot. I used to think this was really unproductive but I’ve realised that part of my practice is letting the ideas come naturally to me, because a forced painting is always a bad painting. When the ideas do come, I’m a bit of a ‘binge painter’. I’ll make 3 or 4 works in a week and then none for 3 weeks.

What dreams or hopes do you have for your artistic journey?

I’d like to keep making work that I find ambitious and exciting, I never really make two paintings the same. I’d love to show my work in new contexts, exhibitions, residencies and maybe more non-traditional environments. I’m really excited about working with Solene. I find it incredibly flattering when someone chooses to live with my work — there’s something so special and intimate about that. The idea of a painting becoming part of someone’s daily life, hanging in their home rather than a formal gallery space, feels very personal. It’s a kind of quiet, mutual connection between artist and viewer that I really value.

Kate Oliver COLLECTION

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Things That Were Always There

Kate Oliver

Untitled

Kate Oliver

Finding it Hard to be Kind