When I was younger, I thought shells were made of sand and sea water, some magical process whereby the sand and waves rolled these forms into being. Later I of course discovered that each shell is in fact born from a living creature. A biologically fascinating process where a tiny mollusk creates the shell from their outermost layer of tissues called the mantle. Using various minerals and proteins these shells are formed, their shape, colours, and texture, all determined by the secreted proteins of these tiny organisms. In forming this collection, I read a book called ‘Conchophilia – Shells, Art & Curiosity in Early Modern Europe’. On page 4 there is a beautiful few lines which summarise our age old fascination with shells: ‘there is something particular about shells as liminal things, objects that hover between life and death, and that throw our thoughts into far places, not least those from whence they came. Shells are things that were once inhabited by creaturely life, that once belonged to an ecosystem distant from humankind before finding their way into the artist’s studio, or the drawers of a collector’s cabinet.’
The love of seashells is not new, in fact shells with holes bored in to them for jewellery have been found on sites from as early as the Middle Stone Age. Aristotle even studied shells as 'the domicile of aquatic animals' but also notes the beautiful qualities of their forms. The trading and collecting of seashells has a long and complicated history, but what I have focused my attention on is the use of seashells in art and crafts over the centuries. Here's a few notable pieces to view.
Joseph Arnold The Kunstkammer of the Dimpfels, a Family of Ironmongers and Traders from Regensburg (1668), Museum Ulm.
Clara Peeters, Still Life with Flowers, Goblets, and Shells, 1612. Oil on panel. 73 x 62cm. Staatliche Kunsthalle, Karlsruhe.
A miniature cabinet of shells from the dollhouse of Petronella Oortman, c.1690-1710. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
Note - The fascinating thing about this miniature cabinet of shells (23.2cm x 9cm) is it’s a real display of a shell collection, all very small and very real shells.
With many of the paintings I viewed of shells from throughout history, they often appeared as greater displays, complicated still life scenes with many collectible items and figures filling the canvas. And although the shells feature heavily in these works, they can easily go unnoticed amongst the various other flowers, figures or landscapes. There was one mighty exception though, Rembrandt’s The Shell (Conus marmoreus), 1650, Etching. It is his only still life ever produced and one of his most collectible works. The shell itself takes centre stage, with its form and pattern the sole subject of the work. It demands that the viewers’ attention focus on the beauty and complexity of the shell itself and this simplicity of language appealed to me deeply.
Rembrandt, The Shell (Conus marmoreus), 1650. Etching, engraving and drypoint. 9.9 x 13.2cm. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
When I paint, I find most enjoyment in the ‘going in’ part. The taking of an object we would otherwise glance at or admire briefly, to looking at it with more intention and more focus. I enjoy getting lost in the details. The patterns etched on the surface, the texture and grooves, the shape, and colours. One day in the studio, the spider conch shell that I was busy painting dropped from my art desk and broke! I was picking it up, sad it had fallen, before being pleasantly surprised by what was revealed to me. Inside the crack that formed I could see the shells inner siphon, and I was delighted: more magic, more beauty.
I enjoy sharing this cathartic practice of painting I have with you, because in doing so I hope my paintings can allow you the same quiet reflection and peace that it brings me. By removing complexity to the composition of the work, it allows you to focus on the one subject the painting portrays. It gives you space to assess the shells surface, follow its lines, and explore the textures I have carefully reproduced in paint.
Now we have discussed the shells, I want to also draw your attention to the colours in the backgrounds of the paintings. These colours I laboured over! It was important to me that these shell paintings were a cohesive collection, and I wanted them to be able to be mixed and matched together. I also wanted to give these paintings a strong presence in our interior design trends and fashions for today. Shells have been painted by artists for 100s of years, and in each period of time you can see the styles off that particular era echoed in the work. These paintings are no different. They will forever hold their place in time, painted in 2025 and echoing the lives and experiences we exist in today. I believe this also ties back to my wish to simplify the composition. I feel as a society we are craving a return to a more simplified life and a quieter way of being. And I do very much believe the way to that state of mind is to return to the everyday miracles of nature that surround us.
To shop and explore this collection of original artwork more you can go to the La Mer - Seashell Collection page.
Thank you for reading! And if you have any questions or comments you are welcome to share them in the comments.
Sarah
