What does the studio, for both of you, look like? 

Amanda Seibæk

 I have a deep love for my studio. I graduated two years ago and secured a graduate space at SWG3 in Glasgow, where I got the studio for a year for free. This allowed me more financial freedom, giving me more money to spend on my practice. I treat the studio like a job, working 9-5, Monday to Friday. The structure helps my brain know when to focus on work and when to relax. I thrive in this structured environment. Being a painter requires spending time alone, which I enjoy. I always have a podcast or an audiobook playing, and the background chatter helps me concentrate. I live on the other side of town from my studio, and the daily commute allows me to transition in and out of work mode.

Smells and fumes are a significant part of my studio life. Oil paint smells earthy, linseed oil has a mild and oily scent, and spray paint smells toxic. I prefer using white spirit over turpentine as a solvent, with my favourite brand being the one from B&Q. My studio is usually a huge mess, but I work best that way. Everything is out in the open, and things often get lost in the clutter, but I enjoy getting wholly absorbed in my paintings. I clean up only after finishing a series of photographs, allowing my brain to refresh.

Helen Mccusker

I share my studio in the attic flat with my partner. It’s bright with high ceilings and scattered with photos, objects, and little bits given to me over the years by friends. I'm relatively new to Glasgow, arriving at the end of 2022. Studios were like gold dust at the time, so having a home studio was the obvious answer.

I have our dog half the week, so I usually start the day with a walk. She is fantastic company and hasn’t eaten any artwork to date. It is easy for me to get distracted being at home, so what works for me is setting the alarm for two hours at a time, with intervals in between where I can leave and go to the kitchen. This forces me to clean up a bit, as I have very bad palette hygiene (someone once told me this). I send an email and find an appropriate album or podcast to keep me company for the next two hours. Until recently, I’ve been very private about my studio and not let many people in, but that’s changed. 

Helen, can you elaborate on how 18th-century still lifes have influenced your work? 

Helen Mccusker

Rather than being influenced by the original idea of exuding wealth and prosperity that 18th-century floral still lifes were produced to portray, I am more inspired by the colour palette and the contrast of the flowers cloaked in black surroundings. The colour balance and the primary focus on the object create not a story but a statement—nature being plucked out of its natural habitat and made into an ornament. While making these recent paintings, I was looking at artists such as Rachel Ruysch. It’s the opposite of landscape painting, a domain where women were allowed to wander artistically in the 18th century because of its ‘feminine’ qualities. This is just one idea behind the pieces. They are also significantly influenced by time and the circular rhythm of life: birth, life, and decay.

How has the preparation for Daisy Chains been? This is a duo show; tell me about the 

collaborative process.

Amanda Seibæk

 I have loved Helen's work for a couple of years, ever since I saw her paintings at a café called Outlier in Glasgow. We first met outside the Modern Institute in Glasgow, where we were both admiring each other's work. When Jessica proposed the opportunity to exhibit in Ibiza, we thought collaborating would be a great idea. Helen and I both have a very poetic approach to painting, making the collaboration for this show smooth and enjoyable. In preparation for the show, we exchanged long voice notes, shared anecdotes and quotes from poets, and discussed painters we admire.

Helen Mccusker

It happened so organically. Before I met Amanda, I was annoyed that I had been out of town and had missed her show. I had friends who had gone, and a few of them spoke to me about it, knowing I would have loved it. When we met, I realised only then that it was her show, and we immediately connected. Amanda’s detailed work and large-scale pieces are the type of work I would hang in my home, and I was delighted to have an opportunity to work with her. Coincidentally, at the time, we had to move out of our flat for six weeks due to a leak, so I was producing work on a much smaller scale than usual, working from a temporary studio setup in my partner's parents' house. The color palettes just melded perfectly, as did the opposing scales.

How has the Island influenced you both in the preparation for this exhibition? 

Amanda Seibæk

Ibiza has a history of being a place for new beginnings, which inspired the title "Daisy Chains." New beginnings also connote light, a quality often artistically associated with Ibiza. Sorolla and his use of light inspired both of us—Monet himself referred to Sorolla as 'the master of light.' This idea of brightness and lightness greatly influenced our paintings as we prepared for the exhibition.

Amanda, talk to me about The Map of Tendre (1654-61). Where did you first encounter this object, and how has it influenced your work? 

Amanda Seibæk

 I first saw the Map of Tendre last August. Carte du Tendre is a map of emotions that accompanied the novel Clélie (1654-61) by Madeleine de Scudéry. Originally discussed in the French salons, it depicts the 'Dangerous Sea' turning into a river that divides a landscape. The map features places like the 'Sea of Enmity' and towns named 'Negligence,' 'Pride,' or 'Sensibility,' representing various emotions. My starting point in this terrain, when I paint, is marked by feelings and behaviours. I use the roads, rivers, and cities as a framework to create scenes that people can relate to from their own lives. There is no clear starting point or obvious path. I find mapping emotions as if they were a physical landscape cutting-edge. It creates a shared landscape of experiences; we might all have stood by the 'Lake of Indifference' or felt intense 'Pride.' This map has been the backbone of my paintings over the past year, guiding me in creating emotionally resonant scenes.

Amanda, how do emotion and colour relate within your canvases? 

Amanda Seibæk

Color always carries connotations, symbols, and associations. Using the Map of Tendre as the backbone of my practice over the past year, I have interpreted various emotions through different colour stages—purples, blues, and browns. For the "Daisy Chains" exhibition, I focused on lust, joy, and enchantment themes. Daisies, as a flower, hold many symbolic meanings in different folklore. One touching belief is that God sprinkled daisies over the earth to comfort those who lost children, imbuing the flower with deep emotional significance. Although I can't recall the source, it's very moving. Even the colour of a daisy carries connotations. I chose pink daisies for this show, which symbolise gentleness, grace, and emotional healing.

Can you cite some artistic heroes you draw from or look to in your practice?

Helen Mccusker 

I love writers like Rebecca Solnit and Maggie Nelson—both are auto-theorists, a style I also appreciate. Among painters, I admire Mamma Andersson’s landscapes, France-Lise McGurn's body murals and delicate lines, Helen Frankenthaler's colours, soaks, and abstract landscapes, and Cecily Brown's sensual and political paintings. My favourite poet is Mary Oliver, who believed that poetry should be accessible to all, a philosophy of inclusivity that I deeply respect.

Literature is a big influence for me, more specifically, the South American genre of magical realism. Books such as "One Hundred Years of Solitude" and "Hurricane season” inspire me greatly due to the nature of the storytelling. Within a work of magical realism, the world is still grounded in the real world. Still, fantastical elements are considered normal and the text doesn’t explain strange or magical anomalies. I like to depict this in my paintings, with flowers and limbs floating through a canvas rather than being anchored to anything.

Helen Frankenthaler is also a great inspiration to me when it comes to painters. I’ve probably seen more of her artwork in person than any other artist.

Sigmar Polke, Rachel Ruysch, Mary T. Smith, Cuno Amiet, and Ivon Hitchens are also artists I turn to regularly for inspiration.

What was your first experience of an ‘in-between’ gallery? How do you wish visitors to view your work in the space? 

Helen Mccusker

My first impression of the gallery was that I was impressed by its beauty and location. The gallery itself has an intimate feeling—not because the space is small, but due to its architecture and age, which bring an element of old-town Ibiza directly to the show. From the tiles to the thick walls, it is the exact opposite of the sterile, bright-light environment that galleries often have.

The opening was a lovely experience. These aspects certainly added to it. Sometimes, people just stand around drinking rather than looking at the art, but each person who comes in spends time studying the paintings, which is quite rare on opening night.

Despite the clear differences in scale and style in Amanda's and my work, I would like people to question where one person’s work begins and the other ends. Some paintings sit so beautifully together. I would like them to think about our concept, "Daisychains," and mostly just sit back and enjoy the paintings for what they bring to them personally.

Ibiza's rich history and stunning geography influenced my flower paintings. The island's blend of ancient cultures and natural beauty provides a unique backdrop that inspires my work. The vibrant colours of the Mediterranean landscape, from the azure waters to the lush greenery and blooming wildflowers, are reflected in my paintings' vivid hues and intricate details.

Amanda Seibæk

It is an honour to display art in a building and an area with a rich history. There is something special about climbing the gallery stairs, with their crooked corners and uneven ceilings, making the building feel alive. Ibiza, with its vibrant colors and bright light, feels like a place where daisy chains connect the inside and the outside. As we hung the show, it felt like the paintings were always meant to be here on the island.