Visual Prayer: Visual Artist Lillian Richards

In Conversation with Emily Chambers Sharpe

It’s not so much about the finished product as the process and being still… and letting it go where it’s supposed to go.

— Lillian Richards

Lillian Richards was born in Decatur, GA, when it was still a sleepy little town. She moved to Charlotte, NC, long ago, lives with her husband, has three grown children, two dogs, and two horses. In addition to being the Director of Creative Engagement at St. Martin’s Episcopal Church, she paints and quilts in a catawampus fashion, knits, rides her horses in Monroe, and enjoys the rural countryside in Greyson County, VA. Her work can be found on Instagram @lilliancrichards.  She has also shown at the Charlotte Art League and Bliss Gallery (Belmont, NC) and at the Shain Gallery (Charlotte, NC) in July, 2023.

Emily Chambers Sharpe: Could you tell us a little bit about what you’ve been doing lately and about some of your work?

Lillian Richards: I’m a visual artist, and I have a kind of discovery-based art process. I don’t set out at the beginning to paint a specific subject. I start with words of affirmation or some sort of prayer, and then I add different layers.

Bliss started as a prayer. On top of that prayer, I added a coffee filter, a sheet of music from an old hymnal, something from an old book, a dressmaker’s pattern, and some gift wrap. I just start layering. Then I add lines with red paint so it makes a kind of grid effect. I just look at the piece for a week to three weeks and figure out what I see in the grids. I gradually paint things in and out using white until it gets thicker and more opaque.

I never know what a painting is going to end up being, which for me is very freeing. In the world today, where I have a list of things to do each day or places to be and that sort of thing, it’s just nice to know that I don’t know the outcome of what I’ve started.

Bliss. 2020. 48 x 36 in. Mixed media and acrylic.

ECS: How long does a project like that take? From the first day when you write that prayer to when you get that painting, how much time are you giving yourself?

LR: That painting was pretty big, and I work on multiple projects at one time. So I’ll let something rest for a little bit and then I might have four or six things going on at one time. It can take anywhere from a month to six months. It just depends on if I get stuck. This morning I walked into my space, and I just painted for like five minutes. I just kind of sit with things and see what it's saying.

With the Bliss gallery show, I knew when the show was, and I was aiming to have two or three new paintings. So there is a little bit of a crunch time, but I think that’s when my painting took more priority. I can work on six paintings at one time, but I don’t paint and knit at the same time.

Visual artist Lillian Richards hangs her paintings for the Charlotte Art League Show, “Proof of Life,” in December of 2022.

ECS: I know there’s something you’ve done a lot in the community of St. Martin’s Episcopal Church in Charlotte that is similar to this, that you’ve been teaching people. Could you share about how you came across that?

Meditative prayer art. 2021.  Sharpie and colored pencils on paper.

LR: This is something that I call meditative prayer art, and it started for me years ago. I just had a lot going on; I had three teenagers at home. Just everything from “What are we going to have for dinner?” to a particular child maybe not making smart choices. I had all this stuff in my head, and one day I sat down and dumped it out on paper. I just kept writing and writing and writing. I used uppercase letters with no spaces in between the words, and when I got to the bottom of the page, I rotated it to the left and just kept writing. Eventually, the dumping turned into prayer for me. It was a way to slow down and focus on what I was thankful for, what I had needs for, what I was upset about, or what I was happy about. Then, I would rotate the paper. I rotate it three times, so you really can’t read anything; it’s just layers of prayer. Then, I take colored pencils and color in whatever it is that I see. We’ve turned this into a guild at St. Martin’s, and I have people who have been interested in this process who have joined. When there’s a person or a baby getting baptized or confirmed, each person in this guild will take the name of one of the candidates and pray for them, and we present this to them on the day of their baptism or confirmation. I’ve also done it for people who are sick, so that when I say, “I’m praying for you,” they have a visual of my prayers.

ECS: When you look at the layers of stuff, whether it be one of those visual paintings like you had for the Bliss Gallery or this kind of prayer art, are there themes or images that you think you see repeatedly?

LR: I find that most of my work involves animals, or nature, structures that I’ve seen in rural areas of North Carolina and Virginia. When I see a structure, or I end up painting a structure, I always think, when was the last time that building was utilized for what it was intended to be utilized for? When was the last time someone was in that structure, whether it’s a barn or an old dilapidated farmhouse? And what’s inside? What was left inside?  Rural scenery is what I have repeated patterns of, and animals.

ECS: Are there some parts of your story or what’s happened in your life that brings your art and your faith work together? Or is there a sort of influence from your growing-up years that you see in your art?

LR: I did not study art in school. I wish I had, but I don’t think I had the confidence to do that. I’ve always enjoyed creative avenues and painting and drawing and trying new things. But until the last five to eight years I didn’t really consider myself—or was intimidated to consider myself— an artist, but I do now.  If someone were to request something of me, like if they wanted something specific, I don’t know that I could do it. I’m not painting to please other people, but I hope that people see the joy in my painting or that it brings them joy.

ECS: It sounds like when you’re creating it’s like a discovery. You’re trying to figure out what’s happening and you’re just kind of following what that is. It sounds like you’re not really thinking of an audience or a consumer as much as you are asking, “What does this want to be?”

So much of being faithful for me is being still and listening.

LR: Right, exactly. I mean I definitely am just focused on being in the moment and being still, and I think that’s where my faith and my art intersect, because so much of being faithful for me is being still and listening. And that’s how I’ve focused on my art recently. It’s not so much about the finished product as the process and being still and not rushed and letting it go where it’s supposed to go.

ECS: I’ve been really amazed to experience some of the work that you bring about, so I’d love for you to talk more about this in general. The last couple of years St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Charlotte held a sort of Stations of the Cross that’s all done by artists from the community and the church, and it’s different every year. I’ve noticed that a lot of the pieces that you bring into that seem to have found objects. Could you explain how some of those pieces have come together for you and what calls out to you as you bring stuff together?

LR: Stations of the Cross has been around for a very long time, but we decided to ask parishioners to choose one of the fourteen stations and represent it within the medium that they wanted. We have a lot of visual artists, a lot of painters. I’ve had someone represent one of the stations with a bowl that he turned, stations with music or dance, calligraphy, digital art, photography, etc. We invite regional artists to apply, and I always wait to see if there’s a station left before taking one. One year I did the women of Jerusalem meeting Jesus, and I made that out of wire. I'd never worked with wire before, but I find with this venue, I'm more likely to try something new. One year I made the station where Jesus' clothes are removed. I made his robe with what I thought might have the essence of Jesus clinging to it. I embroidered photographs of various things, children and prostitutes and the homeless and neighbors, and stuffed them so that they were two-dimensional on the robe. And then this year, I did a sculpture with found objects. With found objects, I just feel free and confident to try something new. A lot of times the material doesn’t really cooperate the way that I had imagined it in my head, so I kind of have to go in a different direction or just work with it.

Station #10: Jesus Is Stripped of His Clothes. From Stations of the Cross at St. Martin’s Episcopal Church, Charlotte, NC. 2020. Textiles.

ECS: It’s interesting to hear you say that the objects won’t cooperate, so you kind of do what they're doing. That’s almost like a faith lesson, too, right? Not everything works the way we want it to work.

LR: Exactly. A lot of times we have no control. Most times we don’t have any control! This last project that I did, it was like I had something in my head, but the materials were not cooperating at all. I had to struggle with it, which is part of it.

ECS: Well, I think that’s really such an important thing to remember, because often when we’re creating things, whether it’s art or music or whatever, it isn’t always straightforward, and it’s certainly imperfect. I wonder, you said you were a teacher in the past and I know you do a lot of community work. What do you say to try to encourage people to go with and not worry about imperfection or when they make mistakes in the process?

LR: I don’t think we often have a finished product or advertise “You’re going to have a product that looks just like this.” We focus more on the process when we offer workshops. And I’ve noticed that adults and children alike get into this meditative state, and it gets real quiet. People are kind of in the moment, and then it's really beautiful.

ECS: You support a lot of art in your role at St. Martin’s. Could you tell us more about some of the other things that you’re supporting that have encouraged people to participate in the process?

I do think that when we take away the expectations of a perfect picture or an outcome, people are more apt to try new things.

LR: A lot of times I just approach people and say, “Don’t you want to do this?” And a lot of the time, people will try things and say, “This didn’t work for me.” For example, for Lent last year, we asked people to fold doves out of paper. I had people come to me and say, “I don’t get this. You sit down with me.” And I did, and some people loved it. Some people said, “This is not for me,” but what we did was a prayer practice. We took the doves and had art which was really beautiful.  I do think that when we take away the expectations of a perfect picture or an outcome, people are more apt to try new things.

We hung the doves from the ceiling using fishing nets, and then we added another layer to that. We invited people to come to the sanctuary at night, and one of my colleagues added lights, and we had reflective music playing. We invited people just to come to the church, they could play on the floor, they could sit there, and just experience the installation. So if you weren’t able to or you didn’t fold a dove, you could still be a part of this art.

This year, for the fifty days of Easter, parishioners, volunteers, and I cut satin ribbons in various lengths. We’ve asked parishioners to celebrate the fifty days of Easter by writing down their prayers of thanksgiving or need on the ribbons.

Red Boots. 2021. 18 x 20 in. Mixed media and acrylic.

ECS: I love this idea of art that is created by the community and then experienced by the community. How does it feel that this is art that gets created and celebrated and then kind of goes away?

LR: It does go away. And those birds, when we took it down, they went to the dumpster in the back of the church because it had done its job and it had a purpose, and there was really no sense in keeping seven hundred doves. 

ECS: It seems like teaching and getting people involved is a big part of your work, and I know, for example, that the church lets people participate in doing cover art for your bulletins. I wonder, how do you curate that and how are you working with that?

LR: A lot of our artwork comes from our formation with children. We use artwork that young people have done, like the youth group or from our intergenerational Vacation Bible School. When we have baptisms or confirmation, we usually use a piece of meditative prayer art, as I mentioned earlier. We also use photographs of the beautiful stained glass windows we have. But we do try to relate the artwork to the liturgy and the readings..

ECS: It seems like you’re very invitational, like you’re trying to say everybody can be a part of this art and this creative stuff, and they can.

LR: Everybody’s an artist, in some way. Everybody creates something. It may not be visual art, but everybody’s an artist. I try to take away the finished product type of mentality.

ECS: You were saying these last five to eight years, maybe, is when you felt more comfortable calling yourself an artist. What has it been like? 

LR: For me, being an artist doesn’t mean I’m creating what brings me joy. Sometimes people like it, sometimes they don’t, and that’s okay. I’m confident at this point that I enjoy what I do, and I enjoy the process, whatever it ends up being in the end. It’s fun. I’m an artist! I like to knit, I like to paint, I like to do various things, and I just don’t put too much pressure on myself.

ECS: Yeah, I think that's really key, not putting that pressure on yourself.

LR: I don’t spend hours in my painting location every morning. I do it when I can. Kind of what works for me.

ECS: Who are some of the artists or creative people in your life that inspire you and influence you and why?

LR: Well, I love the people that I work with here at St. Martin, and I consider them creatives in whatever it is that they do.  I also have a little group of artist friends that just came out of the last six months, including a former teacher of mine who I really admire, Kim Simpson. Then there’s another woman named Linda Joy and another named Laura Sutton. Our artwork could not be any different,  but it is just such a lovely community, and it’s very supportive. I love hearing other people’s perspectives and being able to work with them.

ECS: It’s interesting because a lot of the creative process that you’re describing is sort of on your own or in times when you’re doing things by yourself, but you seem to have found a lot of ways that art connects you with other people.

LR: I just think community is really important. I enjoy painting by myself, but I also have painting friends. I have knitting friends that I like to be with and that I can reach out to when I’m having a hard time with a particular project. So I think it’s a community, just like at church. When we have Vacation Bible School, one of the main objectives is for people to meet other people and meet other people’s children. For families not to be doing everything together—for everybody to feel like they’re part of a larger community—is really important.

ECS: I love that idea that you’re talking about, of intergenerational community and families, especially in a world where we hear a lot about loneliness. It’s interesting to think that even things like art that people consider to be solitary pursuits can be a place where we come together rather than a place that we're just pulling into ourselves.

LR: Right. I have to have my alone time with my art because that’s what recharges me, but it’s a balance between that and reaching out to other people and that community. I’m not sure I could create solely by myself, I get a lot of ideas and energy from other people.

ECS: You were mentioning the installation of the doves and someone else brought this idea of these lights, which were really beautiful and almost made it something different.

LR: Totally different! I mean when that colleague mentioned that, I was like “Let's try it!” It’s kind of like faith. You just have to trust that it’s going to be what it is, that it’s going to reach people the way it’s supposed to reach people, and it’s not about me, it’s not my installation. It’s a community effort. People have really incredible ideas, and you just have to allow people to feel comfortable suggesting things and trying them. If it works, great. If it doesn’t, great. Live and learn.

You just have to trust that it’s going to be what it is, that it’s going to reach people the way it’s supposed to reach people, and it’s not about me, it’s not my installation. It’s a community effort.

ECS: You have so much freedom in how you approach all of this. Did you always have that? What do you think helped you grow that freedom?

LR: I don’t know if it's an age thing or what, but at this point,  I’m not afraid of making what other people might—or what I may have once—perceived as mistakes. Sometimes when you’re doing art, you make a mistake. Those turn out to be some of the best pieces. When I’m painting, I take it slow so that I don’t overwork something, and I listen. That’s what faith is: listening. I don’t know if it’s my age and stage or my life experiences, but I finally reached a point where what I’m creating is not dictated by other people.

Henry, Barn, House. 2019. 20 x 20 in. Mixed media and acrylic.

ECS: You’ve been talking a lot about knitting. What kinds of products have you been knitting lately, and what made you love knitting? How did you get started?

LR: Well, knitting is very meditative to me, especially when it’s something simple that I don’t have to really concentrate on. I love to try new and challenging things. My current project is this shawl, and those that are knitters might be familiar with this shawl designer in Amsterdam named Stephen West. Every fall, he does a mystery knit-along. It’s a huge challenge for me because I have to really concentrate. I’m also working on a dishcloth, which doesn’t take much concentration. It’s more meditative to me when I don’t have to pay such close attention. I love it.

ECS: Yeah, I love that. You’re doing things with your hands a lot. How does that help your mind or how does that help your soul?

LR: For me, things are more rhythmic. I get very distracted visually if I don’t have anything to do with my hands when I’m trying to listen. If I’m listening to someone speak, like, say, during a sermon, I have to close my eyes. But if I had knitting in my hands, I’d be fine. Maybe I need to start knitting in church.

ECS: I really have heard so many cool ideas all throughout this, and I guess I’m just curious: Is there something overall that you have as a hope or a desire for what you create and its place in the world, or is it really just process for you?

LR: Well, I’m awfully flattered when people like my work and approach me about wanting a piece of my art. I just want to bring other people joy. I feel like my paintings are kind of folklore-y in a sense, and it’s not what everybody may like, but I hope it brings joy to people, whether they want to have it in their home or not. I used to have a hard time letting go of certain pieces that I painted, and now not so much because it doesn’t do any good just sitting. I mean, I don’t have enough wall space, and my family doesn’t necessarily want it up. I just have to get it out in order to have new ideas, in order to continue to create.

ECS: Yeah, it gives you more room for new ideas.

LR: It gives me more physical room in my physical space, which gives me more room in my head.

ECS: That’s cool. Well, I’ve really appreciated all of this discussion and our time together. I love hearing you talk about process, and you’ve definitely sparked a lot of ideas and thoughts that I want to hang on to. I think you’ve really woven joy into all of this as a theme that I want to pull out as well. Like the joy you get from the process and then just sparking joy for others too. Thank you so much for sharing with us.