At first glance, Anne’s studio could easily be the home of a fairy- or a kind-souled witch. Nestled at the back of her garden and hidden among wild greenery and trees, the shed-turned-studio is where Anne Whetter creates all of her work. The painter and printmaker is located near Truro, in Cornwall- the county where she grew up and has spent most of her life. Her studio is humble and calming, with a green exterior that allows it to camouflage seamlessly into the peaceful surroundings. That said, it’s hard to miss the large, slightly unnerving horned skull enveloped by a wicca cornucopia, guarding the entrance.
Bursting with stories and anecdotes, Anne launches into a tale about her time cat-sitting, prompted by the animal head. When she finishes, she pauses to look up at the skull and explains, “That’s why that’s there- the basket with the thing in it... it’s to stop birds from flying into the window and killing themselves,” and thankfully reassures me she hasn’t found any since. This is just one of many eclectic items that adorn Anne’s home, and it’s clear she’s a collector of objects and the stories they carry.
On her work table sits a large, sea-weathered chain coated with spiky limpet shells. Intrigued by the artefact, I ask Anne to tell me more. She’s more than happy to talk about her friend, a jeweller, who she plans to gift it to so it can be transformed into a necklace.
Next, a child-sized mannequin catches my eye. Small in stature with beady eyes, this little companion came from a shop in Tintagel, the contents of which her friend had acquired to sell in her retro clothes shop. “It was all this stuff from the 70s that had never been opened. T-shirts with gnomes on-stuff like that,” she says. The mannequin was her souvenir from the shop’s closure, and time spent with a close friend.
In a digital world where most of what we consume comes in the form of an intangible rectangle, the things people choose to collect take on greater significance. These are objects we must find space for in our homes and be prepared, or excited, to see them each day. In a time when “move fast and break things” (a motto coined by Mark Zuckerberg) has been widely adopted, when fast fashion charges on despite long standing criticism, and when doom scrolling 20 second clips has become a default pastime, it’s worth wondering: how do our belongings still hold value—and what makes them valuable?
The skull, the chain, the mannequin, the trapeze artist hanging above the door, and the doll heads huddled in corners allowed us to bond over a shared love of gathering bizarre (and sometimes creepy) objects. Just as I was eager to learn more about each one, Anne was equally excited to tell their stories. Fully aware of the eccentricity of her hobby, she laughs: “What we think is really precious, other people think is junk... I see it as a thing of beauty, they just see it as a thing with no arms.” A sentiment I can wholeheartedly agree with. Her love for the weird and wacky is not only evident in her studio, but it also seeps onto her paintings and processes.
From how she gathers her materials to what she paints, Anne’s pieces are an embodiment of her ethos. “Not trying to hide the fact I reuse canvases”, her artworks often had a life before meeting her brush. Sourced from charity shops, gifted by friends, or simply painted over when they’ve “been around too long”, it is rare for Anne to paint on a blank canvas. Not being “afraid to lose it and bring it back” was something her art tutor Charlie Watts had once told her. Holding this sentiment close to her heart for thirty years “because nothing is ever that precious, if something isn’t going right, just paint it out. I always liked that’. Proud of the visible life her canvases have lived and not worried to start over, Anne is a free spirit when it comes to her work. When a gallery recently asked her to paint the edges of her canvases, she “almost lost the plot” at the request. “My paintings aren’t for frames and glass,” she says firmly, proud of the visible life her canvases have lived.
From how she gathers her materials to what she paints, Anne’s work is a true reflection of her ethos. “Not trying to hide the fact I reuse canvases”, her artworks often had a life before meeting her brush. Whether sourced from charity shops, gifted by friends, or simply painted over when they’ve “been around too long,” it’s rare for Anne to work on a blank canvas.
A piece of advice from her art tutor, Charlie Watts, has stayed with her for over thirty years: “Don’t be afraid to lose it and bring it back.” It’s a sentiment Anne holds close: “Because nothing is ever that precious. If something isn’t going right, just paint it out. I always liked that.”
Unconcerned with perfection and proud of the visible life her canvases have lived, Anne approaches her practice with freedom and fluidity. So when a gallery recently asked her to paint the edges of her canvases, she “almost lost the plot. My paintings aren’t for frames and glass,” she says with certainty.
Even the titles of Anne’s paintings are scavenged and recycled, reflecting her eclectic nature. She keeps a notebook by her bedside saying: “I read every night before I go to bed, and if I see something I like, I write it in a book.” When it’s time to name a piece, she flips through and picks a phrase that resonates. Anne believes titles should never be too literal. “If it’s self-explanatory, what’s the point? You’ve killed it. You’re not going to think about the painting anymore, are you?” And she’s right, her unexpected titles only adds a sprinkle of more magic to her work.
Blackbirds in dresses, children with fish heads, and men with horse bodies are brought to life in Anne’s fantasy world. There’s a clear human presence behind these dreamlike creatures. When asked what inspires her, she quickly answers, “People.” She adds, “Nearly all my paintings are people. It’s weird, sometimes I think there’s a fantasy me in there somewhere.” Looking around her studio, many of the brightly painted canvases feature dark-haired women in patterned clothing, bearing strong similarity to a younger Anne.
Identity is a recurring theme in Anne’s work. In discussing an early university project titled I Was Looking Back at You to See If You Were Looking at Me, she describes her interest in plastic surgery, something just becoming mainstream 30 years ago. The trend made her question why anyone would want to become someone else. Drawing a parallel to the present day, when a cheeky bit of lip filler is no longer taboo, she wonders: “Why would you want to do that? Why do you want to be the person that already exists?” Whilst many look up to celebrity idols, Anne is busy carving out her own fantastical world in the bottom of her garden, staying true to her values.
Confident in who she is and how she works, Anne has finally found her ideal studio space. After trying various locations, she now knows that this studio, tucked behind her home, is the one that suits her best. The main reason being the freedom it offers. Her previous studio at Krowji, a creative hub in Cornwall, came with financial pressure. “I felt like I had to justify the rent through my work,” she says. Now, it’s just a short walk down the garden. “Not only is it convenient, it’s my little space. When I’m in here, I could be anywhere in the world. There are no interruptions, and I can just get on. Everything in here is everything I want.”
