We all know a person who seems to master whatever task they put their mind to. There’s that one friend who never played organized sports but somehow embarrasses people in pick-up basketball and the other friend with a phenomenal singing voice that only breaks out if the right song comes on after a few drinks. These people, miraculously, are just naturally talented. Such is the case for multi-media artist Caitlin Cary. Whether it is penning moving poetry set to intimate arrangements or creating stunning visual art with a method she coined called “Needleprint,” Cary seems to effortlessly transition from one medium to another.
Since her acclaimed band Whiskeytown dissolved in 2001, Cary has never stopped creating. Her solo discography is short yet potent and her work in the visual world is awe-inspiring, and she is far from finished. Cary has been experimenting with her Needleprint and diving into new ways to express herself. Glide caught up with Caitlin Cary to discuss her visual art, transition into a solo career, and the connective tissue between her music and Needleprint.
Check out our full conversation below along with a selection of Cary-picked pieces to get a better understanding of her unique approach to visual art.
When did visual art first enter your life? Do you remember the first piece you made and it was the same piece you first showed/shared with someone?
I guess I have always been making visual art alongside my musical endeavors. Whenever I was at home I was busy waiting tables, bartending, and dabbling in art in all sorts of mediums. Sometimes I was focusing on making art to sell, and I would organize DIY art markets for myself and my friends. I made jewelry, sculptures, mixed media paintings, stuff from bottle caps—kinda all over the place. At some point I began sewing fabric to paper, making little greeting cards and small wall hangings. Somewhere in that part of my exploration, I struck on the bones of the process that I use to make all of my work now, and it felt like a big revelation: the feeling that I had found a medium and way of working that felt infinite in terms of how far I could go with it. And it also seemed to strike a chord with my audience, and people were paying me to make the work, so…kismet. In those same years of honing in on my preferred mediums and methods, I also gradually found myself less pulled toward chasing the carrot of music as a “living,” and I began making the transition away from that and toward the visual art as a means to make my way.
Of all the visual media you’ve made, is there one that reminds you of the music you’ve created or vice versa? Do you take inspiration from one medium to the next or is it a whole new source of inspiration for each project?
Really the impulses of music vs. visual art making feel quite different to me. Partly that’s because music is so inherently social: you’re making it for people and making it with people. As such my inspiration for songwriting tended to be trying to tell stories that were personal but also, you know, universal and relatable. I guess what I mean is that I would be inspired to write a song about something that happened to me or happened to someone I know, and then I’d try to shape that happening to some feeling or sentiment that other people (hopefully rather a lot of them) could recognize and relate to.
Visual art making feels much more personal: something appears beautiful to me and so I photograph it and then bring that photograph home and work it into a piece. In some ways, with my visual art, there’s a lot less consideration of who’s on the other end to receive it, and that’s kind of a wonderful feeling.
Did you find it more difficult to establish yourself as a musician or a visual artist? Did you notice any similarities between the two processes?
In a lot of ways the work I did to establish myself as a musician has given me a leg up as I transitioned to visual art. For one thing, some of my audience followed me supportively from one to the other. And also, a lot of the same kinds of networking apply to both “worlds,” especially as social media drives both and we all (try to) learn to navigate the changes that come at us constantly in that realm.
North Carolina seems to have become a big inspiration for your needleprint work. What about the city do you find so enticing and have you always gotten inspired by your surroundings?
Sometimes I think that it was being gone away from home so much that gave me such a strong sentimental attachment to my hometown and the distinct visual markers that give/gave it its specialness. That homesick nostalgia combined with my resistance to the kind of development that’s happening here (and lots of other places) where old buildings are being torn down and replaced by chain stores and condos was enough to inspire a years-long project of documenting the humble landmarks of Raleigh as a form of tribute and preservation.
It must feel extremely satisfying to sit back and experience a song/piece you’ve just finished. Do you find one endpoint more satisfying than the other? Do you find it gets easier to share art the more you do it?
Of course, both things are very gratifying. I guess I usually have a better relationship to a finished visual art piece than to a finished song. I’m much more critical about music, and (I suspect very typically) my own voice. There’s something about the fact that my music comes straight out of my body that makes it infinitely more vulnerable. With a work of visual art, there’s a remove: it is OF me, but it is not PART OF me if that makes any sense. That said, finishing anything is awesome, and I count myself really lucky to have been able to put both kinds of work into the world, and for whatever impact I’ve had on my audience.
Do you recall the moment when you felt like you were welcomed into each medium? Was there a piece or song you put out into the world that was greeted with such praise and made you feel, for lack of better terms, like you “made it”?
Gosh, it’d be fun to experience that feeling! I think most artists keep moving their own goalposts in terms of what “making it” means. It’s probably necessary to do that in order to keep evolving, and feeling “young and hungry” even when you’re really not feels like a smart mindset for any creative. With that said, I think that feeling part of the world you are operating in—feeling like you belong there and like people respect your work is really important, and it does take work to get there, both in terms of the quality of what you are making and in terms of the work you do to foster community in your area(s) of endeavor. In that sense I do feel some sense of having “arrived,” and I’m at home with my compatriots in music and in art, with a lot of years under my belt, a lot of songs sung, and a lot of stitches stitched!
Collaboration is a key part of your musical history, how do you approach collaboration and how has that approach evolved over the years?
In music, collaboration felt vital in several ways for me: It felt natural to collaborate on songwriting, first because I don’t play a chordal instrument, so I needed someone to flesh out songs beyond melody and lyrics, and second, because I came to songwriting from a background of (academic) creative writing which involved lots of workshopping with other writers and a lot of back and forth with teachers and editors. So that was comfortable to me and I felt it always made songs better to bring more than one writer.
In my visual art practice, I collaborate primarily with my husband Skillet Gilmore. He is an incredible artist and I value his opinion and input immensely. He also knows how to do some technical stuff that aids and eases my design process a great deal. I can make work without him, but with him, I certainly feel more confident. I’d like to think I help him in his work too. We are pretty solid art/business partners.
What was it like venturing into solo material after being a member of Whiskeytown? Did you notice any shifts in your creativity when you started recording by yourself?
Oh, when the band parted ways I was FULL of music. I had been living a life of music making, of course, and collaborating with Ryan and the rest of the band on songwriting to some extent, but there wasn’t room for me to be the primary writer very often, and I definitely had a backlog of ideas that I wanted to get out. It was a great liberation, really. Even though I was still working with other writers and players on the material a lot of the time, it did feel good to take the lead and to be able to express what had been suppressed.
When was the last time you played music and do you look forward to performing regularly again or you don’t miss it?
I played a few songs with my friend Matt Douglas (Mountain Goats) recently for an event called “The Love Hangover,” which is a longstanding tradition in my town of collaborating with another artist to sing songs about love and un-love on the day after Valentine’s Day. Before that, it had been a year since I put on a series of solo shows in association with the reissue on vinyl of my first solo record on the occasion of its (gasp) 20th anniversary. I don’t have anything big planned at the moment, but I keep the windows open, so to speak, and there are multiple bands and musical co-conspirators that I consider to be viable entities (if on a long hiatus). But for the most part, I’m happiest making my visual art and that’s where the bulk of my time and energy are spent these days.
Of all the songs you recorded with Whiskeytown, what was the one you are most fond of and listen to today?
I really love the song “The Battle.” It captures the best of what Ryan and I could do together, I think, and I’m still proud of it.
What are you listening to these days for music that inspires you?
Laura Marling, Margaret Glaspy, Madison Cunningham, and Brittany Howard.
What is the best way for fans to keep up with what you’re working on next? Can you give us a hint at any upcoming project you’re working on?
A bit of time on caitlincary.com will give you the best overview of my visual art doings, as will a follow on Instagram (@caitlin_cary_art), although I get lazy about posting to social media sometimes. I’m currently doing a lot of work on commission, but also planning a series of work focusing on libraries and books, with some of the proceeds of the sales of the work to benefit the ACLU. Of all the outrages of our time, moves toward censorship and book banning are among the most terrifying to me, and I feel real strongly about speaking out and fighting against that.
Caitlin Cary is able to take you on a journey through her visual art. Very graciously, she hand-selected some of her favorite pieces to showcase her immense dedication to constantly evolving. Through these artworks, you discover an unfiltered artist creating pieces meaningful to her, and through vivid colors and dedication to her craft, they become meaningful to the viewer. Please enjoy some of Cary’s Needleprint work and don’t forget to check out caitlincary.com for more of her art.
Elizabeth Cotten, 2017; 30″x36″
Fabric & stitch on stiffened canvas.
Elizabeth Cotten was a guitar phenom and folk musician/songwriter who was born and raised in Carrboro, NC. She was not “discovered” until late in life, but she is now considered by many to be one of the most innovative guitar players of the 20th century. I was commissioned to create this portrait of her for a 2017 issue of No Depression Magazine. I remember hearing her song “Freight Train” when I was a little kid and absolutely loving it. Her voice is one of the kindest sounds you’ll ever hear.
Community Deli, 2023, 24″x 30″
Fabric & stitch on stiffened canvas.
“Community Deli” is a small, long-standing neighborhood institution in a historically African American neighborhood in Raleigh. It recently went out of business and I don’t know its fate, but the area is rapidly gentrifying. My first apartment in Raleigh was nearby and I ate there often in the 90s. I created this piece as well as the Gables Motel one for a recent show called “Raleigh’s Humble Landmarks.”
Gables Motel, 2023; 24″x24″
Fabric & stitch on stiffened canvas.
“Gables Motel” is an old motor lodge that has long been defunct, but was recently purchased by fellow musician and friend Tift Merrit, who has been working for some time to restore it to an operating motel again. Very exciting indeed, in a time in Raleigh when old buildings are more often than not falling to “progress.”
Music Room, 2022, 24″x 30″
Fabric & stitch on stiffened canvas.
“Music Room” is based on a photograph I took on a visit to the Iredell County Arts Center in preparation for hanging a show there. The Center is in the old county jailhouse, and it hasn’t been significantly remodeled since it was built in 1909. When I walked into the room where music lessons are given, I felt a rush of feeling and nostalgia for every violin lesson I ever had as a child. Notably, this piece was created entirely from a beautiful collection of silk that I “inherited” through the Design School at NC State; the collection of a quilter who remains anonymous to me, but to whom I am eternally grateful. I feel a connection to her as I use her fabric–it’s very meaningful.
Pipes 2, 2023, 20″x20″
Fabric & stitch on stiffened canvas.
“Pipes 2” is an abstraction based on a series of photographs I took of large concrete (sewer?) pipes that were strewn around in a field somewhere in rural NC. I must have taken a hundred pictures of them that day, as I was enraptured by the random forms created by their curves. This piece is made in layers of opaque and transparent silk, and portions are coated in encaustic wax that gives it a sculptural feel.
