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Sherrie York Interview March 2026
In her latest body of work with Ann Korologos Gallery, Sherrie York captures the quiet drama of the natural world with a sense of intimacy and restraint. Known for her luminous linocuts and contemplative compositions, York turns her attention to fleeting moments and curiosities – where does the chickadee go in the rain? In this conversation, she reflects on the inspirations behind her work, her evolving process, and the enduring pull of nature as both subject and sanctuary.
SHERRIE YORK: With birds and other wildlife, I find it important to show them as integral to the fabric of the environment, a product no doubt of my long association with biologists and naturalists. A tree branch is not just a handy platform on which to place a bird. The bird is in that particular tree, or on that pond, for a reason – the bird relates to that location in a specific way. How low does the bird sit in the water? How do its toes grip the branch? And if there’s more than one bird in the scene, how do they relate to each other? Some species like to congregate in close groups, while others are definitely loners. Even when I am simplifying or abstracting a scene, I keep in mind the truth of how the elements of the scene are interconnected.
I know a lot of artists who can speak quite eloquently about composition – where to place the subject in the picture plane, how to balance the number of elements, etc. My approach to composition has instead been more about what “feels” right, which sounds very vague and fluffy, but I do feel compositions in a physical way. I couldn’t tell you intellectually why a certain element needs to move a half inch to the left, it just feels better over here than it does over there.
SHERRIE YORK: On rainy days I often think of the children’s book, “Where Does the Butterfly Go When It Rains?” In all but the worst weather I see birds coming back and forth to my feeders, but where do they go when they dart away with their snacks?
One particularly drippy morning my question was answered when I spotted a very wet and rather disheveled black-capped chickadee tucked up tight against the trunk of a tree, sheltering as best it could. At that moment the voice of Karen Carpenter popped into my head, and this linocut seemed inevitable.
SHERRIE YORK: Relief printing is inherently a graphic medium. The marks that I carve into the linoleum block are distinct, hard-edged shapes, making it a challenge to suggest the subtle nuances of shape and color and texture found in nature. I like to push the boundaries of what’s “expected” of linocut by layering color and shapes in less typical ways and emphasizing value and form rather than a more typical graphic line and pattern interpretation.
SHERRIE YORK: This always seems like a bit of an awkward question to me, especially today when we are softening the hard edges of traditional perspectives about gender. If asked to categorize myself I might say “wildlife artist” or “printmaker,” but identifying myself specifically as a “woman artist” is not the first thing I think of. Everyone’s experience of the world is unique; no two artists will approach or respond to the same subject in the same way. It’s my individuality that has shaped my artistic voice. Being a woman is part of that voice, but it’s not the main melody.
In terms of the execution of the work itself, I think that goes back to my earlier statement that everyone’s experience of the world is unique, as are the things that influence their work. My perspective has been very influenced by scientists and naturalists working in a wide variety of environments, from grasslands to mountains to oceans. Their curiosity about the natural world has inspired me to take a closer look, to make my own discoveries, and to find my own relationships within the wider world. And there is so much more to learn.
SHERRIE YORK: The first person who comes to mind is the German printmaker Käthe Kollwitz. If you put our work side-by-side it would be difficult (maybe impossible) to see any influence, as her work is known for its expression of agonizing grief and struggle. But it is also beautifully crafted, intensely personal, and a reflection of the human struggles that dominated her life through two world wars.
Like Kollwitz, I value craftsmanship and personal experience in my own work, but unlike her I have lived in time and place when the conflicts have often been less direct, more complex and often confusing. My experience might not be defined by a military war on my doorstep, but battles are still fought every day. The relationships that I value–with other people and with the natural world– are being challenged constantly.
But the earth is literally our common ground, and the sublime beauty of it is our most valuable treasure. I hope that I will be able to express the beauty more often than mourning its loss.
SHERRIE YORK: I’ve been thinking a lot about stories and storytelling lately. Sharing stories helps us to express our experiences, ideas and values to each other. They are an important means of preserving historic cultures and building contemporary ones. Some of my favorite moments as an artist have been when some aspect of my work has prompted the viewer to share a story of their own experience. Maybe they’ve observed a similar behavior in birds on their local pond, or been stopped in their tracks by a similar kind of light or reflection pattern. Or maybe it’s a particular species that prompts a memory. I love when someone looks at one of my pieces and says something like, “I saw puffins like these in Scotland when I was traveling with my best friend from high school,” and they delightedly share the memory with me. It’s a moment of being fully present and connecting, which we need more than ever!
