For the Sydney-based artist and designer Cat Yenn, painting is a way to quiet the noise without dulling the colour. Her debut solo exhibition, “Double Bounce”, opening May 22 at Rainbow Studios, takes its cue from childhood memories of trampoline games — fleeting moments of tension, lift and unexpected joy. “The works explore that thrill of feeling both heavy and weightless, peaked with a moment of joy,” she says. “Through a nostalgic lens, I want to express the exchange between space and tension.”
A digital designer whose art practice is done entirely by hand, Yenn (who studied design at UNSW’s College of Fine Arts with a Bachelor of Design and keeps a studio in Rosebery) brings warmth and precision to compositions that reconfigure inner complexities and render them into vignettes of stillness. “My work reflects a version of me that I don’t always manage to be,” she says. “I’m a little bit messy, scattered and at times all over the place. Painting clean and deliberate forms helps me to simplify my thoughts without muting them.”
Here, as part of our Artist Questionnaire series, Yenn speaks to us about procrastination (“Slaw and Order: a coleslaw bar”), her bronze ladle jar-opener, and the enduring appeal of “Mr Brightside” — lyrics wrong or otherwise.
From left: Photograph by Nicholas Caldwell; photograph by Tom Barker.
Photograph by Tom Barker.
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What is your day like? How much do you sleep, and what’s your work schedule?
I’m a bit of a night owl. On weekdays I sleep around midnight and get up around 7:30am. I walk Wonton and then rush to work because I’m probably running late.
How many hours of creative work do you think you do in a day?
It’s hard to quantify because I’m constantly thinking about creative things. I’d say about 8-10 hours.
What’s the first piece of art you ever made?
My memory is bad, but I remember pouring my 7 year old heart into an art piece for Saturday Disney’s ‘Letter of the Week’. I didn’t win, and they never sent it back.
What’s the worst studio you ever had?
A studio in Redfern that was always damp and in the middle of three major roads. We call it the triangle of sadness. But it was where I started painting so incidentally it was also the best studio I’ve ever had.
What’s the first work you ever sold? For how much?
It was a painting called “Lucy Chases Away The Blues”. Lucy is a good friend of mine who moved to New York on her own years ago. She’s always been someone I’ve admired for her tenacity to get things done. We agreed on a few hundred dollars.
From left: Photograph by Tom Barker; photograph courtesy of the artist.
From left: Photograph by Tom Barker; photograph by Nicholas Caldwell.
When you start a new piece, where do you begin?
I usually start by sketching out shapes and compositions in my notebook. Once I land on something, I’ll sketch it out over and over again until it sticks. At that point, the composition will feel natural for me to transfer onto the canvas.
How do you know when you’re done?
This is the hardest part of the process. I’m a tweaker. When I feel like it’s close to done, I’ll step back and look at the painting sporadically over a few hours, sometimes a few days. If I don’t go back to tweak a colour or a line, then I know it’s finally done.
How many assistants do you have?
One if Wonton counts. None if she doesn’t.
Have you assisted other artists before? If so, who?
No I haven’t.
What do you listen to when you’re making art?
It rotates between any type of music with 100+bpm or true crime podcasts. Sometimes I like putting on a trashy Netflix show in the background. It helps me lock in for long stints and weirdly keeps me focused. If I’m particularly stressed, just silence.
When did you first feel comfortable saying you’re a professional artist?
After selling out my second collection ‘Jump’ in 2021.
Is there a meal you eat on repeat when you’re working?
Pan fried frozen dumplings with lots of black vinegar and sesame oil. I love eating it at the kitchen bench too. Often I go back and forth between painting and picking at the dumplings.
From left: Photograph by Nicholas Caldwell; photograph by Tom Barker.
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What’s the weirdest object in your studio?
My close friend made me a beautiful cast bronze ladle holder which I use to help me open sticky paint jars. I hit it against the lid to loosen it. It’s such a boujee way to do something so primal and it makes me chuckle every time.
How often do you talk to other artists?
Artists, every couple of weeks. If designers count, everyday.
What do you do when you’re procrastinating?
Brainstorm really bad startup ideas. The longstanding one is a coleslaw bar called Slaw and Order. Don’t steal it.
What’s the last thing that made you cry and when?
A really cute and encouraging message from mum.
What do you usually wear when you work?
An old singlet and whatever bottoms I have nearby. Often it’ll be what I slept in, I’ll get an idea as soon as I wake up and start working right away to ride the wave.
If you have windows, what do they look out on?
A beautiful deciduous tree which covers a storage unit facility.
What do you bulk buy with most frequency?
Titanium white acrylic.
From left: Photograph by Nicholas Caldwell; photograph by Tom Barker.
What’s your worst habit?
I’m always late.
What embarrasses you?
When I passionately sing the wrong lyrics to “Mr Brightside”.
Do you exercise?
I go bouldering! Normal gym equipment freaks me out. I really enjoy the problem-solving aspect of climbing.
What are you reading?
Collectively it’s been two years and I’m still 15 per cent of the way through “My Brilliant Friend” (Elena Ferrante), 50 per cent through “Conversations With Friends” (Sally Rooney) and 10 pages through “A Mysterious Affair At Styles” (Agatha Christie). I’m a terrible reader.
What’s your favourite artwork by someone else?
“The Listening Room” by Rene Magritte
What do you love about it?
Its balance of calm and chaos. It’s stifling but there’s relief in the green and a sense of nurture in the apple. The scale of the piece is actually quite small for how commanding the subject matter is.
From left: Photograph by Tom Barker; photograph by Tom Barker.
