“Rising Hope,” Alexandria, VA, 2024.
One of the first things Nico Cathcart noticed were the birds: they’d somehow gone silent. Even though she could see them soaring above her, their beaks shaped into chirps, she wasn’t able to hear them. By her 20s, she’d been officially diagnosed with a degenerative cochlear condition.
Today, birds figure strongly within Cathcart’s monumental art and murals, not only as reminders of the artist’s disability but, more importantly, as symbols of resilience. Her work showcases birds, alongside classic memento mori symbolism such as skulls, as perfect vehicles through which to engage with sociopolitical themes while also providing a sense of strength. In this way, each of Cathcart’s compositions pulse with energy and vitality, seeking to connect with and mobilize the communities in which they’re found.
Cathcart’s work certainly highlights issues of disability and accessibility, but it nevertheless remains universal in the hope it dispenses. Empowerment and intersectionality serve as top priorities for the artist, and she consistently aims to visualize topics such as climate change, feminism, trans inclusivity, Indigenous land rights, and racial equity, among others.
“Nothing exists in a vacuum and all social and environmental factors are tied together,” the artist explains. “I try, as much as I can, to talk about these things within my work.”
My Modern Met had the opportunity to speak with Nico Cathcart about her relationship with disability and art, her creative influences, and her upcoming projects. Read on for our exclusive interview with the artist.
“A wider lens (in which to see the world),” collaboration with Valerie Rose, Sunny Dayz Mural Fest, Ponca City, OK.
What originally drew you to painting and murals as your preferred media, and how did you develop your personal style?
I have always been drawn to art. As a child, I drew on everything and was painting in oil by the time I was in high school. I was a studio artist first, and have a BFA in painting. Murals were something I found later.
“GROW,” aWall Mural Fest, Miami, FL, 2024.
“Reflection,” 2024.
“Ferdinand,” Wall Street Mural Fest, Portsmouth, VA, 2024.
Your art often revolves around naturalistic and feminist imagery. What compels you about these two motifs, and how do you interpret them throughout your art?
One of my core beliefs as an artist who works in the public eye is that there is an inherent responsibility the artist has to the neighborhoods in which they work. Murals are a great way to talk about issues that really matter. Many of my works are the result of a lot of research and critical thinking about how to best represent the communities, environment, and people around the wall I am working on.
This leads me often to projects that empower women. I have been heavily involved with the artistic effort to pass the Equal Rights Amendment, Artists4ERA, and carry the core principle that all women deserve equality, equity, and freedom to protect the trans community.
In this tumultuous time, that is more important than ever. In light of that, I try to make my work in a way that invites a critical look and drives conversation. Sometimes, that is about feminism; sometimes, it’s about Indigenous land rights; sometimes, it’s about elevating the trans community; and sometimes, it’s about elevating the Deaf community. It all depends on the project.
I also understand that we are intrinsically tied to the health of the planet. A lot of my studio work is based on the European memento mori genre that originated in the 17th century. I am updating the genre, which was originally a reminder of mortality, to talk about climate change and its effect on the human race. Our health is so tied to the health of the ecosystem, and I am creating tableaux that show how tied to the planet we are. We need a diverse array of plants and animals around us to thrive. Humans need healthy oceans and trees to breathe, and those things need us to be good caretakers to survive.
In a small way, these paintings are a little about how we handle death as well. In many cultures this type of imagery is considered reverent to the dead, famously in Mexico with Dia de los Muertos—celebration of life. Bones are not to be feared, but celebrated for the life that was lived. In our culture, we have sterilized death, and that’s a big step back from nature.
Those might seem like radically different bodies of work. However, I believe completely in the concept of intersectionality, as taught by the great Angela Davis: nothing exists in a vacuum, and all social and environmental factors are tied together. Feminism and the environment, disability rights and Indigenous rights, Black empowerment and immigration rights, Gaza and Iranian women’s rights—all are different parts of the same issue.
That’s not to say everyone’s suffering is the same—it’s not!—but that all of it is tied together by the need for change, and I try, as much as I can, to talk about these things within my work. I try to actively learn from the communities I encounter. Maybe it’s a lofty goal with a bunch of emotional homework to do, as well as real research, but the result can be gratifying.
“Age and Grace,” Richmond, VA, 2023.
“Rhiannon,” Busch Gardens, Williamsburg, VA.
You’re in the process of going deaf. How has this impacted your art and your creative process?
I’ve been trying to reset my mind to think of my Deafness as a superpower rather than a disability!
I have a degenerative cochlear condition, meaning I have been losing my hearing most of my life. It’s hard to pinpoint when it started. It’s a thing that I constantly struggle with, especially within my chosen career, as I am often in crowded, loud places where I am missing out on a lot of conversation.
I lip-read pretty well but, admittedly, this only gives you comprehension about a third of the time, sometimes less, so it’s never easy to do that. I also get through with CC apps—which also fail in a crowd—and have been learning ASL for a few years now, which requires the other people in the room to be able to sign. Still, I often miss out on important connections and conversations because I just can’t hear them. This makes the networking side of the art world very, very difficult.
Artistically, because I am driven to talk about issues, I have been incorporating ASL into my work, as well as highlighting Deaf models when it makes sense to do so. I had the wonderful opportunity to collaborate with fellow Deaf artist Valerie Rose last summer at Sunny Dayz Mural Fest, which was so gratifying, as I had someone I could communicate with outside of the “Hearing World.”
I painted her signing the ASL for “Open Mind” while she painted begonias, a symbol of “communication between different people.” The piece used transparency to convey the motion of ASL, which is a difficult thing to illustrate in painting, because motion is required. It’s a technique I went on to paint at aWALL Mural Fest during Miami Art Week this year, with the sign for “grow.”
“Do You Realize?,” Plaza Walls, Oklahoma City, OK, 2024.
“Aurora,” Richmond, VA, 2022.
How do birds as an artistic theme connect to your disability? When did you find yourself inspired by birds as a symbol of your disability?
One of the things I noticed, before my official diagnosis in my 20s, is that the birds went silent, so you can often see birds floating about in my pieces. I cannot hear them, but they still go on, and I can remember them, so they kind of became a symbol of resilience to me. I always have a connection to them because it’s a reminder of what is gone, but also a bit of a reminder that there is hope in all things, even when it’s bleak.
“Vital Qi,” Richmond, VA, 2024.
“Women.Life. Freedom,” 934 Mural Fest, Columbus, OH.
Which of your artworks has most stuck out to you in recent memory?
I find that they are all precious in some way, and I am constantly working, so it’s hard to choose.
GROW in Miami, and the collaboration with Valerie Rose is pretty close to my heart. Do You Realize, over in Oklahoma City for Plaza Walls, is also special, because that fest absolutely knows how to support their community.
I also very much enjoyed painting the mural Rhiannon on a castle in Busch Gardens Williamsburg, which was a piece that allowed me to explore Celtic earth myths, and, you know, ride roller coasters while painting on a castle. I also got the rare opportunity to paint next to Lady Pink and many, many friends at Paint Louis with Few and Far women. Last year, I painted a portrait of femme graffiti writer, Shan, which humbled me to my core.
As for my studio work, I particularly loved the painting Vanity I did for Modern Eden last year, focusing on the dangers of excess. The painting Reflection, which was shown at Joseph Ryan in Colorado, really took a lot of mental math to paint, and I enjoyed it so much.
Recently, I just finished an ocean piece for ABV Gallery in Atlanta, which brought me into painting some more marine life, and I thoroughly enjoyed that, too. The show that it’s in, Wild Wonders, opens on March 1.
“Poppies,” Richmond, VA, 2024.
“A song for a swamp rabbit,” Mural Mania Mural Fest, South Bend, IN.
What do you hope people will take away from your art?
I would hope that there is a moment of reflection. I would hope that whatever they are looking at, they see past just a pretty image, and think about the “why” of it all.
Painting has the power to convey so much meaning without the written word. It transcends words in that way. I would hope that there is a little critical thinking into what the image is saying, because it is saying something.
“Vanity,” 2024.
“Oceans Rise, Empires Fall,” 2023.
“Lionfish,” 2025.
Do you have any exciting projects coming up in the near future?
This is such a planning time of the year. I have a lot of irons in the fire, so I am knee-deep in design work. I will be in North Carolina with Commonwealth Murals and Goodspace Murals to install a piece in collaboration with the North Carolina School for the Deaf in March.
My next group show is at ABV Gallery in Atlanta, with the Lionfish painting, opening March 1, and the lineup for that is so amazing.
I am currently sitting at the Sam and Adele Golden Paint Residency, which is wrapping up and has been a lovely experience. Painting in the place that MAKES THE PAINT, is a joy.