In Conversation With Alice Barreras

MAISIE GREENER

Alice Barreras’ fascination with Celtic mythology appears, at least locationally, worlds apart from her Bay Area roots. The enduring dialogue between visual art and folklore, however, testifies to myths’ perennial and ubiquitous significance. From Caravaggio’s tactical deployment of tenebrism in ‘Medusa’ (1597), exaggerating the theatricality of the original Greek narrative, through to the Pre-Raphaelites evocation of Arthurian legends and Paula Rego’s reclamation of female superstition and magic via her Pendle Witches series (1996) - visual artists have repeatedly shown mythology’s relevance outside of its historical moment. Alice Barreras finds, in predominantly Celtic mythology, a similar significance. Alice’s project “Always Offer a Gift of Silver to the First Magpie Seen in Spring” participates in this artistic tradition by self-referentially contributing to the myth making process itself. The result is a series that simultaneously remembers and reimagines Celtic myths. I sat down with Alice to discuss the project’s conceptualisation and execution.

Where does your interest in Celtic myths and fables come from?

I’ve been interested in mythology since I played the role of Persephone in a musical in third grade written by my teacher, which was based on Greek mythology. After this, I started writing my own chapter books inspired by myths. Handwritten on printer paper and stapled together with illustrations on each page. Recently, I spent four months studying Celtic mythology when I was abroad in Oslo, Norway. It completely shifted my brain and what I wanted to create. It was the boost I needed to find purpose behind the motifs and stories that I knew I wanted to put down on paper and canvas. I was super captivated by the way mythology narratives were more than just entertainment, that they could exist as a way of comprehending worldly mysteries we don’t really understand. Albeit we still don’t, but at least back then we really didn’t understand. I love that Celtic and Greek mythology can still hold up in a time when we are able to quickly figure out the unexplainable.

Do you see any parallels between your creative process and the process of creating myths themselves?

My art does share some similarities with the myth making process. More so its existence becomes part of the process, I guess. Myths aren’t necessarily created, rather they evolve from orally shared stories. They’re passed down and reshaped each time the story is told. Sort of like the game ‘telephone’. Translation does a similar thing. My paintings sort of become part of that movement of passing it down as they take a myth that exists and change it marginally so that it can exist in a visual format. Choosing which motifs and aspects of the story to highlight is an act of retelling in itself. The names I choose for each piece are also part of that retelling process. More so my creative process adds to the mythmaking process, rather than paralleling it.

How do you approach translating these abstract, mythological stories into a tangible piece of visual art?

The first step is not attempting to make it completely tangible. I really love how myths are differentiated by who's telling it and listening to it. There’s a lot of beauty in that abstractness. I really want to keep as much of that as I can when I’m reinterpreting myths. I try to preserve the abstractness by holding space for interpretation. Rather than literally painting an episode from a myth, I take symbols, characters and props and I place them with purpose on typically a flat plain which allows the narrative to be more open ended. I like my paintings to be a conversation between the viewer, the painting and myself. In order for me to create a conversation with the painting, there must be something for the audience to question to make them stay there and think. That fundamental question is manifested through the mystery of the painting.

I sense a serene and composed quality in ‘Always Offer a Gift of silver to the First Magpie Seen in Spring’, despite the warriors and knights depicted. Did you notice this tension between subject and the overall effect? Could you talk a bit about it?

The tension is definitely intentional. Myths and fables always have an ending. Even in moments of conflict there’s order and inevitability. The warriors and knights are characters in their own right, but they’re also super small when the whole narrative is laid out. They’re a small component of the story’s moral intention and wisdom. A calm atmosphere and calm colours outweigh their actions in terms of how the viewer feels. The calmness tends to overtake them, just as it did for you. It also outweighs the violent actions for me, when I’m painting it. Whatever they do, however aggressive they get, it’s all part of a predetermined ending that has a resolution. In mythology resolutions tend to create some peaceful moral of the story.

‘Always Offer a Gift of Silver to the First Magpie Seen in Spring’ is quite loyal to hues of green, blue and orange. Why these colours? Do they have particular Celtic significance?

To be honest a lot of my colour decisions are based on what colours I find beautiful together. They tend to feel purposeful by the end, but I definitely don’t have much initial intention with them. Greens represent fertility and growth in Celtic mythology. Nature is so prominent in Celtic mythology - it’s almost its own character. The “Tuatha Dé Danann” are the otherworldly people that feature in practically every myth. They reside within the “Sidhe”, which are the green rolling hills. That’s their home - the fairy hills. Blue is an equally natural colour to me as the sky is simply always there. The ocean tends to be a very important character in Celtic myths as well. Some of the “Tuatha Dé Danann” live on islands and heroes are often at sea. Orange is simply my favourite colour. If we’re talking about the colour wheel then it’s complementary to blue. That’s honestly why I choose it most of the time.

Animals and humans almost always appear as companions in ‘Always Offer a Gift of Silver to the First Magpie Seen in Spring’. Was this intentional?

Yes - very much so. I love exploring this connection. I was depicting that connection even before I was reading Celtic mythology. I think that might've been the reason I got so into it. Animals, and their relationship with humans, feature super heavily in Celtic mythology. Usually it involves a human transforming into an animal, or vice versa. “Conare” from my painting “Every Bird is Natural to Conare”, his father is a bird. In another painting, “Conare” is not to kill birds as his “geasa”, which are basically his instructions, are not to kill birds because they are kin. “Macha” from my painting “Macha Curses Ulster, and Rightly So” is a woman of the “Sidhe”. She runs faster than horses and shares other traits with them. In some stories she is the goddess of war and horses. “Caer Ibormeith Circles the Lake Three Times” is based on a myth in which a man falls in love with a girl, who is actually a swan. He actually changes into a swan to be with her.

In terms of medium. You seem to shift between egg tempera, acrylic and gouache. Also swapping between panel and paper. What influences your choice of medium?

The context of my environment and the time during which I was producing these paintings is super key here. Almost every painting that is special and worth making public was made at school. School is such an experimental place so experimenting with mediums and tools was slightly inevitable. When it comes to medium specifically, egg tempera allows for more detail and smallness but it’s also moody and can be really complicated. It’s so intense in terms of having to layer colours over one another to create vibrance. But there’s little room for error when I’m painting with it because of how translucent each layer is. It’s also what makes it glow so much. It causes me a lot of pain and frustration though. As a medium it feels the most connected to my subject matter because of how ancient it is. Acrylic paint is its Foil in terms of modernity and ease. Its ease tends to make me more inclined to use it to convey my ideas as fast as possible. Gouache serves a similar purpose to acrylic in terms of painting quickly, but it works like egg tempera at capturing smaller details. In terms of support, paper is fun because of how easy and malleable it is. I can fold it, bend it - do what I want with it. Paper does feel less grand to me though. I tend to feel prouder of my work when it’s three dimensional.

There’s been such a renewed interest in esotericism, paganism and other fringe spiritual movements. Alternative religious iconography has started to pop up more and more in art. Is this something you’ve noticed and, if so, why do you think this is?

I would think that it’s because organised religion is no longer such a necessary aspect of life. There’s a lot less societal pressure to conform to one strain of religion. There’s more breathing room to explore other options. Organised religion has been prominent for such a long time. It has its way into government and schools and daily lives. So esotericism and a strive for a more natural, fluid, mystical belief feels like a reaction to it. In terms of art, there’s historical baggage tied to institutional religion that doesn’t always appeal to me when I’m creating. Art in general creates a counter culture a lot of the time. This new artistic focus is perhaps a feature of a wider gravitation towards spiritual alternatives.

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Instagram: @artbyalicebarreras, Website: alicebarreras.com