Mark Herald at The Scottish Gallery, Edinburgh

Collage & Mark Herald

As an early Christmas gift, my husband surprised me with a day out to Mark Hearld’s Collage Con Brio exhibition and Winter Collage Workshop at The Scottish Gallery. I first discovered Mark’s work earlier this year when I spotted one of his books in the Dovecot Studios shop. I bought Workbook and immediately fell into his world. Nothing transports me quite like an art book, which is probably why I collect so many.

Mark works in several mediums, but collage is at the heart of what he does. I’m drawn to the colour, texture and energy he creates in his pieces, and through the workshop I later learned exactly how some of that texture is achieved. His folk-style imagery reminds me of The Unicorn Tapestries (1495–1505) and similar medieval works I’ve seen at the Burrell Collection in Glasgow.

*The Unicorn Rests in a Garden*

Series of seven (1495 - 1505)

I’m also a little besotted with Mark as a creative figure. He is someone who seems to live inside his art. His home, clothes and interests all mirror the world he builds in his work. His house, from what I’ve seen in books and interviews, is a cabinet of curiosities. It reminds me of that Architectural Digest episode with Dita Von Teese, another artist who has crafted a life entirely in her own aesthetic language. I admire artists who embody their art so completely.

In short, Mark’s work excites me and makes me want to create which is my favourite emotional test for art.

Arriving at The Scottish Gallery

When I arrived, I had to quietly tell myself to look calm, collected, and not like someone internally screaming. This wasn’t easy for me because there was Mark himself, wandering around chatting to people, accompanied by his two dogs. I’m prone to a bit of fangirling with people I admire, which, as an artist, is not considered cool. The one fangirl moment I couldn’t resist was buying his latest book, Raucous Invention, and awkwardly pacing behind him in the hope he’d sign it. Slightly shameful, but absolutely worth it.

Once I’d composed myself, I walked through the exhibition and flipped through his sketchbooks. His handwriting is instantly recognisable, and his eye for colour, composition and texture made the pages a joy to explore. His work is filled with British wildlife, familiar folklore, and of course his dogs which bring a homely, nostalgic charm.

I also learned that Mark hand-paints his frames. He says it transforms a collage from a flat piece into an object, and I think it’s a brilliant idea. Maybe one I might try myself.

The Workshop Begins

A long table was set up with name cards and materials laid out. Mark began with a brief history of collage and recommended looking at the work of Hans Christian Andersen, Matisse and Picasso. He then asked us to pick three or four artworks from the exhibition for him to discuss. I chose a large piece titled Collage Con Brio, created during his residency at Dovecot Studios. The Dovecot Studios space is huge and encouraged him to work at scale. One of his collages, a vibrant rooster, was even turned into a tapestry by Dovecot’s weavers.

Mark shared something that really stuck with me: he rarely draws from life. He keeps sketchbooks and draws from memory, and he doesn’t cut from printed sources like magazines or newspapers. Everything he uses, he makes. I recognise this instinct as I do something similar myself. I often leave room for chance and experimentation, and I create my own assets too. Instead of a fruit box of paper scraps (or “gold dust”, as Mark calls it), I have a digital library of digital drawings, scanned drawings and textures, which I use frequently when creating my Meditation Symphonies.

He also mentioned he loves exploring car boot sales and markets for curious objects which is another habit we share.

Collage One: Diving into the Gold Dust

For our first collage, Mark asked us to start some silhouette shapes. He calls this building a “cast of characters”. He emphasised the importance of the discarded shape left behind after cutting: the negative space that gives a collage its balance of defined and abstract. He reminded us that collage doesn’t have to imitate reality. It thrives on invention and artifice.

Then came a moment of magic as Mark placed his fruit box of “gold dust” on our table. We all immediately leaned in. I was lucky enough to find a pen sketch of a bird he’d drawn, along with scraps covered in his handwriting. I laughed to myself, imagining my first collage as a tiny, unofficial collaboration between Mark and me. Embarrassing, but genuinely delightful.

I was also drawn to pieces of his handmade paste papers. These are sheets coloured using a recipe he shared, made by cooking white flour with water, then adding pigment. I mentally noted the recipe (also in the signed book!) so I can try it at home and possibly scan the results for digital use. Very exciting.

Collage Two: Creative Freedom

After a wonderfully festive lunch provided by The Scottish Gallery, we returned to make our second collage. Time was tighter, which oddly helped. I felt freer and more instinctive which was a revelation for me. Working digitally can be incredibly precise, and I sometimes miss the unpredictability of cutting paper, layering texture, and splashing paint.

Mark said collage can feel like having “too many sweets”, with all the tempting colours and textures laid out in front of you. My first piece definitely felt like that, it was overwhelming but joyful to create. The second one felt more intuitive. I was delightfully out of my comfort zone.

At the start of the workshop, Mark shared a quote from a David Bowie clip that’s been circulating on social media. In the clip David Bowie explains when you’re in the sea and your feet can just touch the bottom, that slightly uncomfortable spot is where interesting work happens. That perfectly sums up my day at The Scottish Gallery.

As an artist who works with both traditional and digital tools, I’m searching for the balance between the abstract and the defined and also between instinct and precision. This workshop nudged me closer to that place where the feet lift off the seafloor, just enough to make something new.