Your work often feels like it captures a dream in motion. How do you tap into that sense of flow when you’re in the studio? Any rituals or habits that get you into that creative zone? 

I will admit, I do struggle to get into the zone. Music is a big part of it, paired with noise cancelling headphones. But the biggest factor is that I need to put on my “uniform,” usually some paint splattered denim & an oversized tee. Lately I’ve been trying out putting shoes on in the studio. It seems simple but it tricks my brain: “Shoes?! Must be work mode, time to focus.”

The textures in your pieces practically jump off the canvas. Do you ever just want to reach out and touch the layers yourself, or is that a no-go for the artist?

Once they’re dry—absolutely I touch them! And I always encourage others to touch them—is that bad?! They sort of feel like if knitwear turned hard and smooth. I protect them all with a quality varnish, so dust and fingerprints shouldn’t be an issue…but as I say that, it’s like I can feel the spirit of a gallerist slapping my hand, haha.

Let’s talk color! Your palette choices feel like a story in themselves. Is there a shade you’re obsessed with right now, or one you swore off forever?

I definitely go through phases with colour, I guess you could say I’m little sensitive to it. Pure red and yellow kind of give me the ick, but I can totally get behind muted or fluorescent versions of them. A faded tomato red is gorgeous. But my current faves are a muted red clay with a subtle blue-ish tone, and a cobalt blue that leans toward cornflower and is a little bit dusty. Oh, and I’m permanently a sucker for a warm, golden green.

What’s the wildest or most unexpected source of inspiration that’s made its way into your work recently? Spill the tea, was it a latenight snack, a weird dream, or something totally out of left field?

Oh I’m sure there’s been some weird ones! I’m not always properly categorizing what floats in and out of my brain, but I’m constantly taking snapshots, either mentally or literally, of colour palettes as I go through my day. Sometimes it’s in obvious places like architecture magazines, but more often it’s a little 6” corner of someone’s garden, or a strangers outfit as they pass a certain fence. Last month I put together a bouquet of chocolate cosmos, and purple heart stems, with reddish kangaroo paws, and it became the palette for a painting of my grandma :)

If one of your paintings could speak, what kind of conversation do you think it would start with the viewer? More of a gentle whisper, or a bold declaration? 

Ooo, fun question. I would definitely say they lean towards a whisper. They’re pretty rhythmic, so it could even be a gentle drum beat that you might nod along to.

You’ve got this amazing blend of collage, acrylic, and oil in your work—do you ever feel like one of those mediums is fighting for attention, or do they all get along nicely on the canvas? 

First of all, thank youuuu. 

I’d like to think they all get along. The collage and oil share equal space and a more obvious presence, so no major battles over there. It’s possible the acrylic might not get the credit it deserves. You could easily attribute the colour it provides to oil paint, but it plays an important role sealing the underlay colours and creating the micro paintbrush lines that the oil ends up settling in. The painting couldn’t exist the way it does without it, so at the end of the day, I don’t think the acrylic is feeling insecure about its role. They’re all buds.

April Matheson’s art continues to captivate and inspire, offering a window into her creative world. We’re grateful to have had the opportunity to hear her thoughts and gain a deeper understanding of the vision behind her work. Be sure to follow her journey and explore her latest pieces—there’s always something new and exciting on the horizon.

Check Out All the Pieces by April HERE