To walk around artist Curlin Reed Sullivan’s house is to dance between studio and kitchen, gallery and garage – spaces that are equipped for the activities of daily life, and also ready at any moment to support an artistic endeavor. Because, for Sullivan, artistic endeavors are activities of daily life. It would make as little sense to separate the space where you wake in the morning from where you tackle your next cross stitching project as it would to separate the place where you boil water from where you chop vegetables.
“If I have to pick up a project and put it away, it’s like closing a big iron door between the possibility of me and making,” explains Sullivan. So, she keeps the door open. She ensures that her spaces are filled with whimsy and color and wonder, open to bolts of creative inspiration. And for Sullivan, the bolts come often and in many forms. Knitting, watercolor, pottery – if there’s making to be done, she’s doing it.
Curlin Reed Sullivan’s Art: The Latest in a Long Line
Her creativity is but one manifestation in a long family legacy. Her great-great-grandfather was a very successful inventor. He and his wife, Bettie Lane Curlin, also dabbled in photography and taxidermy. At one point, they decided to follow the example set by Thoreau’s Walden Pond experiment by living simply, observing nature, and practicing self-reliance, which ultimately led to the young family living on a steamboat on the Mississippi (Bettie Lane was the captain). They followed the call of their creativity, receptive to its pull and trusting its capacity to support them financially and spiritually. Their granddaughter, Sullivan’s grandmother, lived similarly. She visited Sullivan regularly, always with a new box of crayons and pad of paper in hand for Sullivan and watercolors for herself. And Sullivan passed this ethos down to her children. When they were growing up, “art supplies were just sitting around like silverware or napkins,” says Curlin.
So when she started her own studio, she chose a tagline that reflected the seamless integration of domicile and design: Hatched at the kitchen table. Through Pippingtooth Studio, a name inspired by the tiny, razor-sharp tooth that chicks use to peck out of their egg, Sullivan has produced and sold everything from greeting cards to embroidery kits to mixed media prints. In the same spirit as her Thoreau-inspired great-great-grandparents, much of her work incorporates natural objects; for example, a particularly arresting tree leaf, a pair of vibrant blooms, or an elegantly angled twig. “I’m a mess to take a walk with,” Sullivan concedes.
Inside a Joy Bubble
Some of her favorite pieces to create and share are those that encourage participation. For example, she sells a line of ceramic flower vases shaped like heads. When someone purchases a vase, she sends it without its final component: a twiggy smile. Her hope is that the customer will find and install their own twig, experiencing the thrill of transformation and completion.
It’s a form of remote collaboration. And, for Sullivan, any type of creative collaboration is sustaining, whether that means working together on a project or simply exerting creative energy in the same space at the same time. “A very particular form of connection develops that you can’t really fabricate with anything else,” says Sullivan. That’s why she not only hosts “makeshops,” as she calls her creative workshops, but also regularly attends artist retreats and workshops. Through these, she explores a wide array of media in locations around the world.
Regardless of what she’s making or where she’s making it, Sullivan does so with delight. “When I’m in a state of flow, I’m sharing a cubicle with the divine. And it feels like being inside a joy bubble.” That joy is evident in Curlin Reed Sullivan’s art, as is her personality – bright, playful, vibrant, and humorous. In Curlin Reed Sullivan, there is a colorful soul who epitomizes the beauty of creating for the sake of creating.
@curlinreedsullivan
pippingtooth.com
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