Charly Weir

Someone once asked me what my “medium” was, and I replied, “the town dump” — and had to repeat it three times before she got it. Well, I don’t actually get all of my supplies at the dump; they come piece by piece from antique shops, auctions, the beach, or wherever something with paint, texture, rust, shape or uniqueness shows up. For the past fifteen years I was a dealer in antiques. Not interested in the fine china or the expensive things, I was always more attracted to the barn or the attic — the bits and pieces, the unusual things: a rusty hinge, a headless statue, an empty clock box, pieces of lobster traps.

So I really must thank the failing of my antique business as an inspiration for making these things into pieces of art. And if you could see my basement and garage, you would realize that the source of this inspiration is truly endless.

It is a special pleasure living on an island off the coast of Maine. I get a lot of inspiration from my surroundings: the rust, the ocean-aged wood and the brilliant things that wash ashore, as well as the realness of the people who live here. You can’t buy that experience.

I once considered myself an outsider artist because I had no formal training — until I heard someone say, “Why is it outsider?” She had a point. So now I don’t define myself. I am free to create with abandon and don’t give a hoot about balancing, measuring or clashing colors. It is simply a vision and a desire to take the pieces and transform them into something more.

My work is shown year-round at Islesford Artists Gallery on Little Cranberry Island.