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ABOUT
Freya Mears is a London/Bristol based artist and curator.
She is currenty studying Liberal Arts at the University of Bristol.
She has a particular interest in social practice, curating, educational psychology and art therapy.
She wants to spend her life creating, educating, and collaborating.
In 2021 she completed an Art Foundation Diploma (Distinction) at City and Guilds of London Art School.
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CONTACT for Purchase Enquiries
Freya Mears
Email: freyamears100@gmail.com
instagram: @pigeontehe
Freya Mears
Email: freyamears100@gmail.com
instagram: @pigeontehe
Home
Paintings
‘While she wrestled him on the hill,
the badgers, the horses, the sheep
worked away shovelling
their hearts into the landscape.’
Extract from The Overwhelming Urge
from Ella Frears’ Shine, Darling Poetry Anthology.
Acrylic and oil pastel
on paper
Shovelling Their Hearts /2020
29.5 x 40cm
Acrylic and oil pastel on paper
29.5 x 40cm
Acrylic and oil pastel on paper
Her words evoke harmony and joy; with physical, fleshy characters.
Here I depict the unconventional love between mother nature and her horse.
Here I depict the unconventional love between mother nature and her horse.
The Overwhelming Urge /2020
60 x 42.5
Acrylic and oil pastel on paper
60 x 42.5
Acrylic and oil pastel on paper
Their playful souls meet in the landscape: miraculous and all consuming.
Energetic with a thick heart.
Energetic with a thick heart.
Do they shovel in hatred?
Moments of violence defend embarrasment and shame.
Moments of violence defend embarrasment and shame.
Oil on Panel
The Aftermath /2020
60 x 40cm
Oil on panel
A revolt ensues and her horse is murdered.
Mother nature, our queen, is heartbroken as she wades through the water carrying her lover’s head.
Oil Pastel on Paper
Red Monster /2021
29 x 38.5 cm
Oil pastel on oil paper
29 x 38.5 cm
Oil pastel on oil paper
Brandon Hill /2022
29.5 x 21cm
Oil pastel on paper
Acrylic on Paper
Jesus Loves You /2021
59 x 85cm
Acrylic on paper
Watercolour/
Ink
The Aftermath Preliminary drawing
24.5 x 19.5cm
Ink on paper
Left: The child within /2021 11 x 18cm
Right: The boy who didn’t have a friend /2021 9 x 14cm
Digital /
Acrylic on paper
Hark! Our Lady
(A Modern day nativity)
Cradling her baby.
She’s insta famous now
Gotta phone notta bible
God,
She’s suckin’ and sellin’ weight loss lollies.
12 months later,
Her 15 minutes of fame
Are hanging on the wall.
(A Modern day nativity)
Cradling her baby.
She’s insta famous now
Gotta phone notta bible
God,
She’s suckin’ and sellin’ weight loss lollies.
12 months later,
Her 15 minutes of fame
Are hanging on the wall.
Our Lady of Lewisham Revisited /2020
Three Digital Paintings
Left: Our Lady of Lewisham /2019
69 x 48.5cm
Right: Drainspotting /2020
69 x 48.5cm
Acrylic on paper
69 x 48.5cm
Right: Drainspotting /2020
69 x 48.5cm
Acrylic on paper
Oil On Canvas
Fear of Falling (2020)
130 x 138cm
Oil on canvas
130 x 138cm
Oil on canvas
What is love?
It lies somewhere between the chair and the toilet.
Hold my back.
What is fear?
Persistent, like a gun to the head.
It lies somewhere between the chair and the toilet.
Hold my back.
What is fear?
Persistent, like a gun to the head.
She is mentally strong but physically weak.
The woman who made you victoria sponge.
A lover of London Pie.
How could she know she would later call it home?
The woman who made you victoria sponge.
A lover of London Pie.
How could she know she would later call it home?
Last Supper /2020
129 x 118cm
Oil on canvas
Ello Gan Gan,
Would you like to come
to your dream meal?
Here I view food as a timeline for memory, religion and betrayal.
Would you like to come
to your dream meal?
Here I view food as a timeline for memory, religion and betrayal.
The Way Through the Woods /2019
120 x 160cm
Oil, acrylic and paper on canvas
‘The Way Through the Woods’, 1910: Rudyard Kipling :
‘They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.
Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate,
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few.)
You will hear the beat of a horse’s feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods…
But there is no road through the woods.’
‘They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.
Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate,
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few.)
You will hear the beat of a horse’s feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods…
But there is no road through the woods.’
Poetry by heart.
Take me to the next round.
If I can’t perform it, I’ll paint it.
En plein air, easel in the forest.
Man and nature, like the mad artist I’m becoming.
Take me to the next round.
If I can’t perform it, I’ll paint it.
En plein air, easel in the forest.
Man and nature, like the mad artist I’m becoming.