SHAWN MARSHALL
- ARTISTIC HUB MAGAZINE
- Sep 6
- 6 min read
Updated: Nov 3
the sacred and everyday lifeLOUISVILLE, KY | USA
A Conversation with the Artist Who Turns Architecture into the Poetry of Collage
There are artists whose every work feels like a diary of life, written with fragments of spaces, memories, and emotions. Shawn Marshall belongs to that rare group of creators. Shaped by diverse cultures, architecture, and a deep curiosity about the world, she has built an artistic language where permanence meets transience, ritual meets intimacy, and structure meets freedom. Her collages and paintings function as both visual compositions and spaces where figures and forms seem to converse, where walls and arches become symbols, and where recycled materials emerge as metaphors for resilience and renewal. In this union of experience and intuition, we discover an artist who believes that art can be both a refuge and a challenge, a space of hope and a space of reflection.
You grew up across different cultures, spending part of your childhood in Cyprus, Lebanon, and Germany, where visits to museums and encounters with art were part of everyday life. Looking back, was there a moment in those early years that set you on an irreversible path toward art, despite your initial studies in architecture?
I can’t point to one specific moment when I decided to become an artist. I simply knew from an early age that it was what I wanted to do. Growing up overseas, immersed in different cultures and surrounded by art and architecture from around the world, only deepened my admiration and appreciation for both. I owe much to my parents' love of the arts, which led them to take us to museums, architectural sites, and musical performances, and to ensure we experienced the food, music, and customs of each country we called home.
Your education and long professional experience in architecture have clearly shaped the way you build layers and structure your compositions. In what ways do you consciously or unconsciously draw on the language of architecture in your collages and paintings today?
Consciously, I create compositions with an architectural sensibility: aligning edges, echoing rhythms, and organizing positive and negative spaces. The titles of many works, such as Metropolis, Roadway, Chapel, evoke surfaces or forms of built environments, reinforcing that structural language. In my collages centered on the female presence, such as Decorative still, and Armored still, I draw on architectural motifs as both framework and foil. Columns, arches, and ornamental patterns become symbolic backdrops against which the female figure is placed, challenging spaces traditionally defined by male authority.
Unconsciously, my architectural background probably shapes my intuitive choices, like where a particular texture anchors itself, or how a fragment's scale interacts with others to give it depth and hierarchy. Even in intimate works like Stamina, Transcendence, and Altar, there’s a sense of grounded structure, a foundational geometry that quietly supports all elements.
In your work, you explore the tension between permanence and transience, the sacred and everyday life. Is there a work or a series that, for you, embodies this idea most strongly? Could you share the story behind it?
One work for me that most powerfully embodies the tension between permanence and transience, and between the sacred and everyday life, is Altar. The title itself evokes ritual, devotion, and tradition, while the collage technique of fragments of imagery layered, weathered, and juxtaposed suggests impermanence, erosion, and transformation. I envision an architectural and sacred space that's meant to last, being quietly reclaimed, reinterpreted, or even disassembled over time. The work carries spiritual reverence and a sense of reverence, but is intentionally unsettled. Divine Order and Chapel also fall in this category. Divine Order carries a suggestion of cosmic or spiritual law, but the layering of torn or juxtaposed materials reminds us that such order is constructed, brittle, and mutable. Chapel references a sacred architectural form, but because of the nature of collage, it feels evocative and fleeting, carrying both the weight of tradition and the possibility of reinterpretation.
During the pandemic, you began incorporating discarded and recycled materials into your paintings. What did that shift bring to your work, both aesthetically and emotionally?
During the pandemic, I started incorporating discarded and recycled materials, and that shift brought a new layer of meaning to my work. Aesthetically, it expanded the surfaces, introducing unexpected textures, irregular edges, and a sense of history embedded in the materials themselves. It was a great outlet. Emotionally, it felt like a way of transforming loss and uncertainty into something generative. Working with what had been cast aside became a metaphor for resilience and renewal, and it allowed me to approach collage and painting with a sense of discovery rather than control, which continues to shape my practice.
In many of your pieces, female figures appear within spaces historically shaped by men. How does the atmosphere of these spaces change once you introduce a female presence, and what would you like the viewer to recognize in those compositions?
When I introduce female figures into spaces historically shaped by men, the atmosphere shifts from one of authority and exclusion to one of presence and inclusion. The figures often soften or disrupt the rigidity of those environments, opening space for new narratives. What I hope viewers recognize is how these compositions question who has been visible, who has been absent, and how those spaces change when women enter them.
Your works, from the series inspired by horizons to collages that evoke cosmic landscapes, always seem to carry an element of hope and reflection. When someone stands in front of your painting, what would you most like them to take away from that encounter?
Thank you. I’m glad my work resonates with hope. I feel hopeful. I think we all need a reminder that hope exists, especially in challenging times. In both the horizon pieces and the cosmic collages, I’m drawn to a sense of vastness, but within that expanse I try to weave a thread of hope, a suggestion that beauty and possibility can be found even in fractured or layered spaces. I want the work to remain open and to hold enough ambiguity that the viewer can enter it on their own terms and discover a personal connection or story. For me, hope lies in the unknown and uncertainty, despite it being uncomfortable.
In your forties, you chose to leave architecture and devote yourself fully to art and teaching. What led to that pivotal change, and how did that moment shape your artistic journey?
My decision to leave architecture was shaped by several events that converged around the same time. In 2008, I was laid off during the Great Recession and the sharp downturn in construction. That same year, I went through a divorce, which caused me to leave my home and move into an apartment with my son. For years I had considered returning to school to become a teacher, and those circumstances ultimately became the catalyst to pursue that path.
Significant presentations lie ahead, including your work for KMAC Museum in 2025 and your participation in the LA Art Show in January 2026. What does stepping onto those larger stages mean to you, and how do you see your practice evolving in the coming years?
I’m thrilled and deeply grateful for the opportunities ahead with KMAC Museum and the LA Art Show. To have my work included on those stages feels both validating and energizing. Both of these upcoming shows encourage me to keep pushing my practice further. I see these experiences as a chance to connect with wider audiences while continuing to explore new directions in collage, expanding scale, and deepening the narratives within the work. More than anything, I’m excited to see how these moments of visibility will challenge me to grow as an artist.
In conversation with her, it becomes clear that art is both a profession and a way of living. Each of her works carries traces of the past and promises of the future, balancing order and chaos, the sacred and the everyday. What resonates most is her openness to letting uncertainty become part of the creative process, and the way she finds hope within that uncertainty. Looking at her work, we enter the world of one artist and, at the same time, our own stories and emotions. In that openness lies the true power of her art, reminding us that in layers, fragments, and transience, we can always find both strength and beauty.
