Contemporary Art in Context: Sharon Norwood

Many contemporary artists connect their personal narratives with past cultural histories in their work, exploring unique ways of connecting these intertwined strands. Interdisciplinary artist Sharon Norwood achieves this by incorporating vintage or antique objects in her art, encouraging the viewer to contemplate new meanings for things valued in the past. Norwood examines issues of identity and perceptions of beauty in her art practice and uses curly line—a symbol for Black hair—to connect with the formal language of drawing and mark-making. She works in a variety of art forms, including painting, printmaking, drawing, ceramics, and media arts.

Hair as Subject Matter
When Norwood first started making art, she wanted to express ideas about African American subject matter without using the figure. She made clay masks, but after a while she found that they no longer inspired her. Norwood wanted to do drawings in ink on paper, and one day decided to create a still life of her own fallen hair found around her house, centering her practice around the use of line. After about thirteen such drawings, friends recognized the lines as Black hair, which then became her subject matter.

Selected Artworks and Process
Lines in Norwoodʼs artworks invite the viewer to reflect on perceptions of hair in history and the present. In her series Hair Matters, Norwood combines antique porcelain teacups decorated with gestural, curly lines that symbolize Norwoodʼs identity as an Afro-Caribbean woman. Using her own hair as a model, she drew the curly line configurations, printed them out as decals, and fired them onto the porcelain in a kiln.

Norwood’s The Flower Offered Of Itself And Eloquently Spoke Of Gods. Let Us Dance In The Sun Wearing Flowers In Our Hair is a modular porcelain installation that not only reflects on the African tradition of respect for nature, but also conjures up the beauty of African hair. The piece prompts contemplation on how the complex, artistic hairstyles of many African cultures are considered symbols of identity and status, connecting it to her own identity as a Black woman.

Actual hair, often an artist’s own, has found its way into many contemporary artists’ work as a powerful symbol of identity, as seen in the works of Hannah Wilke (1940–1993), Mona Hatoum (b. 1952), and Rosemary Meza-DesPlas of Texas.

About the Artist
Norwood was born in Kingston, Jamaica, and lived there with her father until she was nine. She then relocated to Toronto, Canada, where she grew up with her mother, whose family was from Saint Thomas. Art was always a part of her life, and she was drawn to books and writing from an early age. After high school, she became interested in drawing and painting, both of which remain integral to her artistic practice. She earned a BFA in painting from the University of South Florida in 2013 and an MFA in studio art from Florida State University in 2018. Her art is in the collections of the Gardiner Museum, Toronto; Washington and Lee University Museums, Lexington, Virginia; the National Museum for Women in the Arts, Washington, DC; and the Microsoft Art Collection.

ARTIST Q&A
What are some of the biggest influences on your work?
SN: My work is influenced by a range of sources, including historical narratives, material culture, and lived experience. Traces of colonial structures and the complexity of identity often serve as foundational frameworks.

Outside of the arts, I’m deeply impacted by social and political histories, especially those related to race, class, and labor. I’m drawn to the beauty found in everyday materials and gestures, as well as the labor that often goes unseen. Artists like Kara Walker (b. 1969), Rachel Whiteread (b. 1963), and Lorna Simpson (b. 1960) have influenced me, both for their conceptual rigor and material choices.

What is a typical workday like for you?
SN: No two days are exactly alike, but generally, I split my time between research, making, and reflection. Some days are spent in the studio experimenting with materials: clay, fiber, found objects, while others are more cerebral: reading, writing, or looking through archives. I often return to previous works or ideas, allowing time and distance to refine my direction. I like to work in blocks of time, where I can immerse myself without distraction.

In many regions and cultures across the African continent, there are countless and diverse traditional hairstyles that have served as expressions of identity, community, and social status. Styles such as Fulani and Himba braids, or Nigerian threading, are especially reflective of the element of line. Is your work influenced by any of these unique hairstyles?
SN: While I may not directly reference specific styles, I am deeply interested in the aesthetic, cultural, and symbolic dimensions of hair practices across African traditions. The curly line in my work functions both as a decorative mark and a metaphor, referencing Black hair, bodily presence, and the politics of visibility. Across many regions of Africa, hairstyles form part of a broader visual archive—rich, layered, and culturally specific—connecting generations and geographies. My use of the curly line carries some of that historical and cultural resonance, drawing from the deeper significance of hair as both a form of personal expression and a marker of cultural identity.

Do any Jamaican art forms or movements particularly impact your artwork?
SN: Growing up in Jamaica exposed me to a culture rich in storytelling, symbolism, and improvisation. While I draw more from conceptual practices than from specific Jamaican art movements, there’s an undercurrent of Jamaican sensibility in my work, an intuitive playfulness and a resistance to imposed boundaries. Traditions, language, and music shape the rhythm and cadence of how I think and work. There’s also an embedded understanding of duality of beauty and struggle, joy and resistance, that finds its way into my practice.

In your installations, is your use of line intuitive or carefully planned?
SN: It’s a mix of both. The line often begins intuitively, guided by gesture, memory, or emotion, but over time, I refine and structure its placement within a larger conceptual framework. Even when it appears spontaneous, there’s usually a deep backstory or process behind it. I think of the line as both an aesthetic and political tool, something that can guide the viewer’s eye while also disrupting expectations.

If you could go back in time, what advice would you give yourself as an emerging artist? Or what advice do you have for other emerging or aspiring artists?
SN: If I could go back in time, I would tell myself to trust my instincts more deeply, take bold creative risks without waiting for permission or certainty. I would remind myself that growth often comes from stepping into the unknown and that limitations are often self-imposed. I’d also encourage myself to take a business class or two, not because art should be defined by profit, but because understanding how to navigate the systems around your practice can help sustain it.

For emerging artists, my biggest piece of advice is to center the work. Don’t chase perfection or try to make “masterpieces.” Focus instead on what moves you. Make the work that feels urgent, honest, and alive for you. That’s where your power is. Everyone has their own creative rhythm, so resist the urge to compare. Lean into your unique voice and give it the time and space to grow. The rest will come.

Can you tell us about any upcoming projects?
SN: This year holds a beautiful mix of movement and reflection. I have the privilege of showing work in a number of group exhibitions across different geographies, including Brazil, and will be presenting my first solo exhibition in Canada, a place that holds deep personal and artistic resonance for me.

In the fall, I’ll join the Vermont Studio Center as a visiting artist, where I’ll share elements of my creative research and spend time in conversation with other artists, a practice that always feeds my own.

Beyond the calendar of exhibitions and travel, I’m most excited about the evolving nature of my studio work. The act of making, sitting with materials, wrestling with questions, and allowing new forms to surface is still at the heart of what drives me.

Line, Identity, and Perception