“The light in Maine is just so beautiful,” says artist Kathy Butterly. “I think you have to have something to contrast it to,” seconds her husband, artist Tom Burckhardt, “You see more of the sky here than in New York. You’re very acutely aware of the elements.” Butterly and Burckhardt have spent nearly every summer of the past three decades together in Searsmont, Maine, on the property Tom’s parents, artists Rudy Burckhardt and Yvonne Jacquette, acquired in 1965. Heeding the advice of Alex Katz, who introduced them to Maine the summer before, “You need a barn for a studio and a place to swim” The red farmhouse with its attached barn sits on a quiet road with a path through the woods to Lawry Pond. It served as both couples’ summer home until Tom and Kathy built their house across the road in 2005, with a small shed serving as Kathy’s studio. In the 1990s, Yvonne had a large new studio building and a caretaker’s quarters built next door. Until she died in 2023, Tom shared half the studio with his mother. This past year, they converted the caretaker’s quarters into a spacious new workspace for Kathy.
SM: You both now have much larger studios in Maine. Has it impacted your work?
Tom: For me, definitely. My focus is on large paintings when I’m here. When I’m in New York, I tend to do smaller things as I have less time than I do in Maine.
KB: This past year was the first I was in the larger studio, and it definitely affected my psyche. New York is full of intense energy and information overload. When I come to Maine, I can breathe. It’s about expansion, deeper breaths, more light, and air and space. In the new studio, I have separate stations for molding, carving, glazing, and a long wall shelf to step back and look at my work in process. I don’t need the work to have a large physical footprint; I want it to have a large mental footprint—to take up space in one’s mind.
SM: Tom, you work in several mediums and styles—ink and collage on found book pages, abstract oil paintings, smaller-scale plein air paintings, and room-size cardboard installations. What attracts you to the diversity?
TB: The simple answer is I need to keep myself interested and engaged, and I think a palpable sense of that interest and excitement translates to the work. I’m a little distrustful of work that meets everyone’s expectations, and I found I didn’t lose an audience if they respected the artistic curiosity.
SM: Kathy, your ceramic sculptures are decidedly not functional, yet you begin with a traditional vessel form. Why start there?
KB: The vessel form is my muse, my canvas. For about fifteen years, I used a pint glass as the basis for figural works, the vessel as body. Now, I use a fishbowl shape, and they are becoming more environmental, more planetary. I think of them as small universes, a vessel of living in the world. Unlike Tom, I expand internally, going deeper into the same subject.
SM: Your studios are right next to each other. Do you drop in to discuss work in progress?
TB: Yes, we both understand that we can ask anytime, “Hey, can you come take a look at this?”
KB: We’ve also been together long enough to know when not to say something!
SM: What’s a typical day for you? Do you share similar studio routines?
TB: In Maine, I usually get a quicker start to the day than Kathy. I’m in the studio by 7 am and generally work until noon. Morning is my dedicated studio time; I’m not a night worker. In the afternoon, I’ll take a swim or bike ride.
KB: I typically start my day in the garden, then get to the studio around 10 am and work all day. It’s such a privilege to have uninterrupted studio time. This year, I finally bought a computerized kiln and can get to sleep at a decent hour. For years, I had to get up in the middle of the night to monitor the firing.
SM: What’s on the horizon for each of you? Is there a project or exhibition that you are working toward?
TB: I have an upcoming show of large paintings at High Noon Gallery in New York this fall. I’m also collaborating with an artist friend in Bombay, India, on an exhibition that will open in late 2025. And recently, I’ve been trying a new thing. I’m experimenting with making an animated film of the book pages, seeing if I can make them temporal.
KB: This spring, I’m in a group show, Anonymous Was a Woman: The First 25 Years, at the Grey Art Museum at NYU, and I have two solo shows I’m working toward in early 2026, a mid-career survey at the Tang Teaching Museum at Skidmore College, and a show of all new work at James Cohan Gallery in New York.
