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Chanelling the Wildness
Inspired by the work of Sylvia Igglesden
Emily
January 18, 2025
I’ve only met Sylvia twice, but each time she welcomed me into her home with such warmth and friendliness that it felt as though I were visiting an old friend. She has a magnetic energy, the kind of charisma that instantly puts you at ease in her presence. |
When we sat down to chat in her kitchen, my oversized cup of tea steaming in front of me, Sylvia began talking about an artist group she’s part of, where members share positive feedback and encouragement. “For those of us who put ourselves out there, it’s brave, courageous, and vulnerable,” she said.
“I think it’s interesting how many people who did art when they were young leave it behind, only to return to it later in life. It’s something in you that you can’t resist, it’s what you’re meant to do.”
Reflecting on her current art practice, Sylvia added, “There’s something lovely about being comfy in your own skin and not frightened of what people think. It’s the realisation that you can’t please everyone.”
What struck me most about Sylvia is how she pours herself into her work with such openness and stands by it with pride. She exudes a confidence in her practice that many artists, including myself, strive to achieve. “I’ve got to the point where I’ll show anybody anything because in each painting there’s a bit of me. I genuinely don’t care whether people like it or not,” |
Her work is deeply personal, and she’s unafraid to put herself into it fully. Of course, she admits that it’s still reassuring when someone loves her work, when a piece sells, or when she’s invited to show in exhibitions. But for Sylvia, validation is not the primary goal. “It’s lovely, but you have to not lose sight of why we paint in the first place.”
Sylvia acknowledges that she’s in a fortunate position where creating and selling art isn’t her primary livelihood, which gives her the freedom to experiment. “I think I’m the luckiest person on the planet,” she said. “I just do what I want to do.” This sense of freedom has allowed her to cultivate a deeply intuitive style that evolves without strict plans or concepts. “I never plan,” she confessed.
“I just think, what’s the worst thing that can happen? You don’t like it, you paint over it, and start again. There are no downsides to art. I’ve got examples of where I’ve hated it so much that I just whacked a whole load of black paint on and scraped it off, and then I’ve been left with some nice lines, and I’m thinking, I really like how that’s worked out, and that’s taken me on another journey.”
Watching Sylvia talk about her creative process, it became clear how much joy and experimentation she brings to her work. There’s an undeniable playfulness, an ability to tap into a childlike freedom of exploration that many adults struggle to access. Her paintings, with their bright, bold colours and expressive marks, remind me of the uninhibited creativity of childhood, when we create purely for the joy of it, free from the fear of getting it wrong. “I just put a couple of lines on the canvas and off I go,” she explained.
“I’m still learning with everything I do. I’ll make and I’ll fail. But in failure, I’ll learn, and occasionally I’ll think, well, it’s not bad.”
Although Sylvia’s style is intuitive and spontaneous, it’s underpinned by a strong understanding of design principles, developed during her careers in advertising and interior design. “Working in advertising, you learn a lot about layout, composition, and what makes a good image,” she said. |
Her background in interior design, meanwhile, honed her sense of proportion and balance. Yet she doesn’t let these principles dictate her work; her process is entirely intuitive. Although, it is the understanding of these design principles that enables her to play with the rules, admitting, “I quite like putting clashy colours together because sometimes that gives it a bit of jeopardy.” |
Sylvia’s bold use of colour reflects her personality, “I love colour,” she said. “The world’s a pretty grey place generally, so if I can introduce a little bit of colour into my life, why not?” Sitting in her kitchen, surrounded by her art and a bright blue wall behind her, it was impossible not to feel that same zest for life.
Sylvia’s paintings often serve as a way to process her emotions and experiences, though she insists this isn’t always a conscious effort. “A lot of it comes through subconsciously,” she said. “I have a folder called ‘Inspiration’ on my phone, but I rarely look at it. It’s only after a painting is finished that I might look back and think, ‘Oh, that’s where that came from.’” She shared a touching story about an abstract painting she created, only to later realise it reflected an image of her cat playing with feathers. “The cat had died the week before,” she explained. “It wasn’t intentional, but it found its way into the work.” |
In addition to her abstract pieces, mountains are a recurring theme in Sylvia’s work. “I’ve done a lot of work around the mountains, but they’re not real mountains; they’re made-up. It’s the feeling of the majesty of mountains. They’re frightening but so beautiful, like the ocean. I mean, it’s the big things in nature,” she said.
The raw, unyielding terrain of mountains and the unpredictable vastness of the ocean perfectly mirror Sylvia's untamed and instinctive approach to expression. I’ve been reflecting throughout this article on how best to articulate the essence of Sylvia’s work. At first, I kept returning to the idea of “childlike” freedom and experimentation. But as I write this paragraph, it strikes me that it’s not just freedom, it’s the wildness in her work that resonates with me most. Perhaps Sylvia is able to tap into a primal energy, a connection to something raw and elemental, and that is what makes her work so incredibly impactful.
In addition to the striking visual impact of Sylvia’s work, it also carries a deeply personal charitable mission. Sylvia’s sister-in-law, Jane, who recently passed away after a long battle with Alzheimer’s, had been the inspiration behind Sylvia’s decision to donate the proceeds from some of her arkwork sales to the Alzheimer’s Society following Jane’s diagnosis. Describing Jane, she said, “She was an incredible free spirit and a true art lover. She spurs me on.” |  |
The image above was the last drawing Sylvia and Jane worked on together. The image below is a piece Sylvia created called ADHD, which was dedicated to Jane.
Alzheimer’s is a profoundly heartbreaking disease, both for those who suffer from it and for the friends and family who witness their loved ones slowly losing their sense of self. Sylvia’s commitment to her art, and the way she pours so much of herself into each painting, feels especially poignant in this context. |
Her work serves as a reminder to cherish our health and, if inspired, to leave as much of ourselves in our creative pursuits as we can, while we are able to do so. |
