.ART

Canadian painter Katie Butler (katiebutler.art) is part of a new generation of artists unafraid to put their inner lives on canvas. Still early in her career, she has already developed a voice that feels both vulnerable and assured: pairing figurative painting with journal entries, clever titles, and reflections on everyday experiences. Raised in Windsor in a family of artists and now traveling widely for residencies, Katie’s work has shifted from commission-based portraits to deeply personal explorations of exhaustion, connection, and resilience. What makes her stand out is not just her technical skill, but the openness with which she shares her process—through her blog, captions, and social presence. We spoke with Katie about her lineage, her transition from painting “for others” to painting “for herself,” and her ongoing journey of healing.

How did art first come into your life?

On my mom’s side there’s a strong creative thread. My grandmother drew storybook illustrations, diagrams for factories, even painted doll faces by hand before mass production took over. She passed that on to her six children: my mom paints, and my uncle does naval history paintings that hang in American museums. He’d get notes back from historians saying, “This uniform needs three buttons, not two,” and he’d repaint to get it exactly right.

My mom’s work was more like what I do – lots of figurative pieces, especially portraits. She painted us constantly when we were growing up, turning our little photo shoots into finished paintings on large canvases. So, I was always surrounded by art. My parents were realistic – they never pushed me to see it as a career path – but there was constant encouragement for creativity, crafts, and expression.

“At first, I treated painting like a side hustle. It wasn’t until I started creating for myself—sometimes literally crying while I worked—that I realized how healing it could be.”

Your undergrad was in health sciences. How did you find your way back to painting?

I really didn’t know what I wanted when I went into university. I switched programs three times. I loved some of the global health courses and the opportunities for international work, but when I graduated I didn’t follow through with it. Art was there in the background, but at first, it was very commercial. I was doing commissions: people would send me photographs of their loved ones, and I’d paint them. But the photos weren’t always good compositionally, and I started to feel like a machine. I downplayed any personal meaning in the work. I’d tell myself and others it was just a side hustle, not a practice. I was almost embarrassed to take my art “too seriously.” It all changed when I was in a really difficult relationship. I started painting for myself, and it became this outlet where I could cry while painting, pour emotions directly onto the canvas. Suddenly, it wasn’t about how real the portrait looked – it was about what the piece meant. That shift, to using art as a way of processing, almost as therapy – changed everything for me.

You’ve said that titling your work is one of your favorite parts. Why?

I love titles! They’re like distillations of the whole story. Sometimes I plan an entire painting around a title. It’s like writing a book: you only get one shot at the title, and it has to capture the essence. For example, I painted a bathtub scene during a time when I had just received some really bad news. It was about being emotionally and physically exhausted, so I called it Drained. Later, when I realized the materials I used weren’t holding up, I reworked the concept into a new painting with yarn, this time called Frayed. The fraying edges of the yarn became part of the metaphor. Both pieces grew directly out of their titles—the word guided the whole symbolism. When I don’t have a title in mind, the painting feels less important to me, almost unfinished. Like with pets – you get more attached when they have a name. Titles give the work intimacy and meaning.

How has your relationship with art and healing evolved?

At first, I clung to art like a lifeline. I was journaling constantly, carrying my notebook around like a kid with a safety blanket. There was this desperate need to make the pain productive: if I could turn it into art, then everything was okay, even if I was stuck in a harmful situation. It was a way to justify what I was going through. Now, I don’t need art in that same urgent way. I’ve healed enough to step back and approach it from a lighter, more playful space. It still taps into emotion, but without the pressure that “this piece has to save me.” That shift allows me to take risks, experiment, and not feel crushed if something doesn’t turn out. It’s a much healthier balance.

What other practices support your healing?

Yoga is huge for me, especially hot yoga. The heat forces me to focus; I can’t keep spinning in my head. I always leave class feeling like I’ve reset. Journaling too, though I laugh when I hear people say they write about gratitude. My journal is messy, full of pros and cons lists, rants, overthinking – the worst version of me. I always tell my sister, “If I die, you have to burn it.” But it’s therapeutic, it clears space. And even when I fake gratitude entries, it’s usually because I’m at my lowest and trying to pull myself out. Along with painting, those things keep me grounded. I also try not to put all pressure on art to be my sole income or sole healing practice – that balance matters.

Do you want viewers to take away something specific from your paintings?

Yes. I know many artists like to leave interpretation wide open, but I usually have a meaning in mind. My Invisible String series, for instance, was about how lives overlap in small, invisible ways—comforting reminders that even in solitude were connected. That was meant to feel warm and reassuring. Other pieces focus on unflattering, awkward slices of life. Those are meant to make people feel recognition through discomfort—like reading a contemporary novel where you cringe but also think, That’s me. What I want most is empathy: for people to see themselves in the work and feel less alone.

Finally, why did you choose a .ART domain?

I wanted everything to line up – Instagram, TikTok, website – so katiebutler.art made sense. It’s clear, simple, and makes it obvious what I do. When I built my website, the suggestion came up and I thought, “Why not?” It looked good, it was available, and it felt like the right fit.

Katie’s Beginner’s Guide to Figurative Realism

Katie is also sharing her practice through teaching. Her new online course, Beginner’s Guide to Achieving Figurative Realism with Acrylic Paints, distills everything she has learned as a self-taught artist into five modules and 34 video lessons—over six hours of content designed for absolute beginners.

The course covers the full process, from brushwork, colour mixing, and composition planning to step-by-step demos of still life and human figures. Students learn how to capture skin tones, hair, fabric, and achieve likeness, while also discovering their own style. Each module includes practical exercises, homework, and Katie’s personal tips, plus access to a supportive online community and lifetime access to the materials.

👉  As part of our community, you can join with an exclusive $50 discount registering via the following link.