Katherine Lubar’s work is influenced by both living in London and growing up in Texas. The strong light that is present in her paintings and the human-made structures it falls upon is a direct response to growing up in Dallas, with its almost blinding light, exaggerated by the modern buildings and their corresponding shadows with their straight lines and flat expansive structures. Other important aspects of her work include the interplay between negative and positive space, a concurrence of flatness and depth, hovering on the edge of abstraction and representation and investigations into the relationships between colours.
How do you find the photographic sources for your paintings? Is your attention drawn to shadows in everyday life, or do you deliberately seek out specific compositions to photograph?
Yes, my attention is very much drawn to shadows I see in everyday life – I am often struck by shadows and have to stop and photograph them. Because I work with shadows so much, I often experience them almost as physical objects. I also find shadows on TV – especially in old films, but in all sorts of programmes. Then I have to pause and photograph the shadow (at the annoyance of anyone I'm watching TV with!) The composition is decided later, after numerous drawings and paint sketches.
Lot 111. Katherine Lubar, Wifi (Pink), 2026, Acrylic on plywood panel, 12.7 x 12.7 cm (5 x 5 in) (Left)
Lot 112. Katherine Lubar, Shards (Detail), 2026, Acrylic on plywood panel, 12.7 x 12.7 cm (5 x 5 in) (Right)
You have spoken about your interest in the interplay between real and artificial, object and shadow, similar to the way the character Des Esseintes in Joris Karl Huysmans’s novel becomes obsessed with flowers. Do you feel you have developed a similar fascination with shadows, freely moving between what is observed and what is constructed?
I am very interested in the fact that shadows exist but aren't touchable – are they real? I am, in a way, trying to make them tangible in my paintings – the same with light patterns. We can see them, but they aren't concrete; in addition, shadows and light patterns change very quickly – nothing is constant, but I am trying to make them into something permanent. My other conception about the artificial and the real relates to the way my paintings appear – often people think they are prints, or made of lino or some other material, but they are actually made of paint, with many layers built up. From a photo they look quite flat, but in reality, the paint is textured, from the many layers of brush strokes. So there is a misconception that is quite interesting - something painted that doesn't look like a painting.
Going further, and thinking of Plato's Forms, I find it quite interesting that a shadow is a second version of an object. And according to Plato, any object is already a second-hand version of the original 'Ideal'. Which means a shadow would then be the 3rd version of the original. Not that I agree with Plato, but I like the fact that a shadow has within it the original object that creates it, though it is so skewed that it doesn't always resemble it. This morphing and transforming, of the object's shape to the shadow's I find quite fascinating.
You have written about the relationship between colour and music, linking specific colours to tonal pitches. Do you still think about these connections when selecting colours for your paintings?
Actually I don't! This was something I researched many years ago, when I was trying to find a relationship between colour and music (as I was also a musician). I first tried to equate certain notes with colours, but that didn't work, so then I looked at musical intervals and connected them to colours on the colour wheel , which in a way made more sense. With some of the intervals in music, like a Perfect 4th or a Perfect 5th, the colour combination was quite harmonious. And the Tritone (used to be called the 'devil's interval) which is quite jarring, equated to complimentary colours, which although very harmonious, also have a jarring quality. So perhaps there is something there, but to be honest, I choose my colours very intuitively, through doing many, many colour sketches. I find this way works better than thinking too scientifically or clinically, and more unexpected combinations can result, which creates more interesting paintings.
Katherine Lubar, Shards, 2025, Acrylic on canvas, 64 x 71.5 cm
Although your paintings are composed of blocks of colour, they carry a strong sense of texture through your brushwork, which complicates the initial flatness of the image. How did this textural quality become part of your practice? Did it develop gradually over time, or has it always been central to your technique?
This textural quality has developed gradually over time. I started out painting very flatly, and in the past 6 or 7 years, I have started building up many more layers of paint, to create a more textured surface (which is not always visible to viewers, unless they get close to the painting). Originally, when I was studying, I was influenced by Patrick Caulfield and Michael Craig-Martin, but also by Wayne Thiebaud, and I remember feeling like I had to choose one direction or the other - either towards flat paint or textured paint. I chose the flat paint at the time, but in recent years, I feel I have fused the 2 styles. I still use masking tape, and create blocks of colour (like Caulfield and Craig-Martin), but now I use a more textural style, showing brush marks, so I get a bit of Thiebaud in there too.
Do you have any projects on the horizon that you would like to share?
I will be taking part in a group exhibition in London in early April, details to be confirmed shortly - I will post more information soon on my Instagram page: @katherinelubar
Visit Katherine's Website
Questions by Victoria Lucas
Banner image credit: Jens Marott
