We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Kimberly McCaskey a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Kimberly, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. If you could go back in time do you wish you had started your creative career sooner or later?

I started a creative ‘career’ right out of college… just not my own, since everything I created belongs to someone else. I was probably more suited for a fine art degree, and out of practicality, I got a degree in graphic arts. I was told it was the only way I had a chance at paying the bills. True or not, I don’t regret the degree, because it’s undoubtedly shaped me as an artist and the kind of art that I do. I wouldn’t even be doing some of the core techniques I use. I also don’t regret the time I’ve spent working in studios and creative agencies, learning from exceptionally talented creatives. I dabbled in fashion early on, learning that creative process… all things I’ve learned, and I’m always experimenting with incorporating that knowledge into my process. I first envisioned myself becoming a creator with a home studio upon retirement, but here I am with a head start as the quintessential eccentric artist. I am definitely glad I got started sooner rather than later. It has been healing to travel deeper into my artistic journey and to build a sense of self based on my passion for sharing my ideas and my visions.

As an artist, I suppose I’ll never retire… I’ll just drop dead one day while creating. You make art until the day you don’t. It’s not a career; it’s a compulsion.

Kimberly, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

Important lesson learned at a prior job

Working in entertainment and creative agencies gave me a glimpse behind the curtain. I think we all could use such a glimpse. It’s good for a creative mind to see the smoke and mirrors of Hollywood, the runways, and all the licensed art, posters, props, and costumes that go with them. Putting my own ideas and artwork out there became much less intimidating because my art can manifest uncontrolled, without any red tape. Observing how agencies and corporations ultimately follow trends has made me determined to be the kind of creative who doesn’t. Instead, I strive to generate art and visuals that inspire and shift direction. Like any artist who’s ever lived, I absorb what others create—I notice the colors they choose, the risks they take, the moods they leave behind. I take what resonates and let it fold into my own work. Inspiration isn’t something I chase… it’s something I collect.

Yes, it’s true that everything has been done before… so you might as well do it your way and make it unmistakably you. It took conscious effort and a lot of practice to hone in on my own intuition and tastes when I create. I think I can factually say that my eyes have taken in a record-breaking number of creative visuals to examine. Who will fact-check this? I expect to keep evolving in style until my last creation.

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Are you happy as an artist or creative? Do you sometimes wonder what it would be like to have a regular job?

From my experience, being an artist or creative doesn’t seem to be a choice. If you are, you are. You probably arrange the flowers well. Your friend comes to you to pick out colors. You are asked to make the sign. Many naturally advanced artists choose not to identify with their talents and carry out their lives never even revealing their talents. That’s understandable. As soon as we are old enough to understand the concept of being a professional artist, that’s exactly when we start hearing phrases like “starving artist,” etc. Being a visual artist can be a thankless job. Other humans and robots expect to be able to siphon your process, style, and ideas for free. An artist can spend a lifetime churning out art and creative work that will influence communities and culture without ever gaining acknowledgment or compensation. To an uninformed observer, if you’re doing what you love and what you are good at, then it must be fun or a hobby that doesn’t require compensation or respect. Furthermore, being an artist who uses surrealist themes, you kind of shoot yourself in the foot by putting yourself out there. Potential employers and collaborators are easily turned off when they do searches. I never feel free to fully express myself. I’ve had dear friends mention how surprised they were by how well they got along with my kooky artist friend they’d only seen online. “Wow, she’s really well-spoken and grounded. Very savvy.” All I can do is wonder how I come off. I wish I were brave enough to really put myself out there and own it… it would be so liberating. This only shines a light on how much further I have to go and grow as an artist. Even those lucky enough to land creative jobs in corporate America won’t get the respect they deserve. They’ll be expected to do the impossible in a miraculous amount of time and will be the first on the chopping block when cuts need to be made. I am happy that I am an artist and that I identify with my talents and putting my creative work out in the world. There have been long stretches of time in my life where I wasn’t producing my own art. I was still an artist during those times. Some highly degreed artists I know (turned off by the influx of social media art celebrities) are working entirely in private as they head off to their 9–5. Even when I’m not putting art out in the world, I am still an artist because that’s who I am, and being who I am… living life making art… makes me happy.

We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.

How about pivoting – can you share the story of a time you’ve had to pivot?

When did you first know you wanted to pursue a creative/artistic path professionally?

I don’t think there was ever a moment I didn’t know, and thankfully, I had a lot of support from community and family. Growing up in the college town of Boone, in the North Carolina Appalachian Mountains, I was the kid collecting nature from the woods and turning shoeboxes into elaborate dioramas. No magazine was safe from me. My urge to cut your periodicals up and collage is currently lying dormant… for now. I always had at least a set of primary watercolors on hand, a medium that still feels like home. Doodling in class helped me listen and land art shows. I didn’t call it art back then… it was just how I existed. I followed the more traditional route: got the degree, then the day jobs. But the creative current was always there, humming louder than any glamorous industry. Eventually, I couldn’t ignore it. Making my own art became less of a choice and more of a survival mechanism… a way to alchemize life, grief, absurdity, and beauty into something that could live outside of me… and maybe help someone else feel less alone. I still work odd jobs just to live in Los Angeles — it’s so expensive — and I am not in any kind of Beverly Hillbilly situation living off oil. Being able to create feels like its own kind of currency. I know I wouldn’t survive here without this and a community of creative visionaries who inspire me and the world.

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First dollar earned as a creative

The first art piece I sold happened quietly and without fanfare. My mixed-media ode to color and honeycomb geometry Bee You had originally shown in The Hive Gallery’s yearly anniversary exhibition… resin-free at the time. Almost a year later, while learning to work with resin, I decided to give the piece a glossy finish and hung it back up on the wall during my first year there as a resident artist. That’s when it sold. Collector unknown, handshake missed, story forever a mystery. In that moment, I realized two things: resin really can turn a good idea into a jewel, and sometimes your art child is adopted before you have a chance to pour over it again. I really enjoyed my time learning and experimenting as a resident artist there, and I still show work at The Hive Gallery. While it may seem unassuming, it holds real weight within the city’s creative undercurrent. Designers, animators, fashion creatives, producers, and world-builders from all corners of the arts pass through its doors to spark inspiration. Even brands like Vans have sought it out intentionally. It may not trade in prestige, but it trades in imagination… and that makes it quietly influential.

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Learning the craft

I have been trained in and created with a myriad of mediums. I keep going back to resin. I’ve coated my entire life with resin. I spent my time experimenting with resin and acrylics while Los Angeles was advised to stay indoors during the COVID years. The process became somewhat like a ritual. In a way, it feels like magic. You start with liquid and a lot of time to spare. Then, petal placed on petal, you end with a 3D wall relief of a purple rose. I went beyond simply coating flat surfaces to sculpting intricate treasures. I’d like to be overconfident enough to call myself a master resin artist, but I know the resin is never tamed. You may have a plan for resin… but resin doesn’t care about your plans. Resin is also a warm-weather medium, so I tend to be a little rusty after a winter of matte varnish. I forget things I know don’t work and have to change direction because I smudged that idea up… or start over. Just like living life in general. In certain circles, I’m known as the Egg Lady. It’s fitting in that I rescued a flock of birds that live with me. But that’s not why. I sell many realistic-looking food necklaces, but the pepper-fried eggs are especially popular and have been sent out to collectors all over the globe.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.KIMYKASK.com
• Instagram: @KIMYKASK
• Linkedin: http://www.linkedin.com/in/kimberlymccaskey

Image Credits
I own the copyright to all photos.