Inside the Studio: Sherwin Cadore
- Art Dealer Street
- 1 day ago
- 6 min read
Between memory and imagination, Sherwin Cadore’s paintings unfold in a space where realism and abstraction move in quiet dialogue. Figures emerge from textured atmospheres, grounded in observation yet touched by something dreamlike — a reflection of how memory, identity, and emotion intertwine in the mind. His portraits are not merely likenesses; they feel like vessels of experience, shaped by movement across landscapes, cultures, and personal history.
Born in the Caribbean and now based in Brooklyn, Cadore’s artistic path carries the rhythm of migration and transformation. After leaving a long career in financial services to pursue painting full time, he brought with him a strategic mindset that now quietly structures the chaos of creativity. His canvases balance intuition with intention, where carefully planned compositions meet moments of improvisation.
Oil paint, with its slow pace and meditative quality, became the language through which Cadore could explore these ideas most freely. Faces, landscapes, animals, and fragments of abstraction become symbols of inner states — reflections of the ways identity is shaped by experience, geography, and time.
In this Inside the Studio conversation, Sherwin Cadore reflects on equilibrium between realism and abstraction, the emotional power of portraiture, and how rhythm, memory, and movement guide the stories unfolding across his canvases.
Read on to learn more in an exclusive interview with Sherwin Cadore :
Your work often lives in the space between realism and abstraction, where figures feel both grounded and dreamlike. What draws you to that balance, and how do you know when a painting has found its equilibrium?
I really enjoy combining realism with abstraction. Instead of just trying to capture things exactly as they are, I’m often trying to help others experience the way I see the world and how things make me feel. Realism and abstraction already coexist in our mind. That’s why we can each look at the same object and see it differently because of the values, life experiences, perspectives, and emotions that we add to it. The abstraction in my paintings is the part of myself that I add. The balance just depends on how personal I want to make it.
You’ve spoken about leaving a long career in financial services to pursue art full time. How did that shift change not just your daily life, but the way you approach risk, patience, and decision-making on the canvas?
Most of my life has been about change and adaptability, so embracing that challenge comes naturally to me. It also helps that I’m a very optimistic person. I was excited to pivot into a completely new environment that’s even slightly adjacent to the one before. But there’s a systems mindset, organization, and strategic mindset that can be transferred. So I’m enjoying finding the moments of cognitive overlap. I leave the wild creativity on the canvas. But everything leading up to that deserves systems, sequencing, and structure. For example, I plan most of my paintings in advance on my iPad, still allowing for variations on the canvas, but with most of the decisions already made. I also use some of the same creativity and resource management tools that I used in my previous career. Recently, I adopted more of a strategic planning mindset as I build out with short-, intermediate-, and multi-year goals. This has helped me to see the bigger picture and focus on multiple workstreams at the same time.
As a Caribbean-born artist now based in Brooklyn, how do memory, place, and movement between landscapes — island and city — quietly shape the emotional tone of your paintings?
Memory, place, and movement have become the central thesis of my art. After an initial period of experimentation and reflection, my work has evolved into this philosophy of how I interpret my own journey with a personal message to “embrace your winding path”. Geography is a big part of that. Even though I’m no longer in the Caribbean, it’s always a part of me through the people I’m still connected to and the lessons I learned in childhood that shape my values and beliefs even now. My art has become a commitment to embrace every stage of my journey with all the twists and turns, both physical and psychological.
Portraits play a central role in your practice, yet they often feel less like literal likenesses and more like inner states. What do faces allow you to express that landscapes or abstract forms alone cannot?
Portraits are by far my favorite things to paint because it’s the most direct way to represent emotion and story. I use faces to build personas that inherently come with a history of experiences and desires. If I’m painting from a reference, I want to capture the beauty and uniqueness of the individual in a way that is deeply personal and dignified. But I also want to deliver something that the viewer can find themselves in and connect with in a way that’s more universal. We’re back to the idea of equilibrium. The portrait is like a vessel that others get to project their own experiences onto to complete the story. It’s possible to achieve this through landscapes and abstract forms as well, but the portraits allow for a much more direct translation. And sometimes when there’s no face, a random eye might be included to indicate presence.
Oil paint became your primary medium after exploring many others. What is it about oil — its texture, pace, or flexibility — that best supports the emotional and visual language you’re building?
I fell in love with oils from the very first try in 2021. I’ve enjoyed dabbling in several other mediums well enough, but discovering oil is what inspired me to seriously consider the possibility of an art career. The slow-drying nature of oil allows me to really approach each stage of the painting process at a very comfortable pace where I could get lost in the process. From mixing paint on the palette to building up the image layer by layer, painting with oils feels like quality time with myself and my thoughts. It’s meditative, and I really like that. It’s also very adaptable, so there’s room for the image and story to evolve along the way.
Music and observation seem deeply embedded in your process, from people-watching to painting with sound in the background. How do rhythm, silence, and atmosphere influence the way a work unfolds?
My paintings have a very rhythmic look and feel, which helps me convey the ideas of movement and interconnectedness. Music is the perfect painting companion as well. I’m often trying to mimic the idea of melody and harmony and rhythm and tempo on the canvas.
You exhibited with Clio Art Fair during its 20th edition in New York. What did that experience reveal to you about your work, your audience, or your place within the independent art ecosystem?
Every opportunity to exhibit where people can have an experience with my art is such a gift to me, and after seeing all the other artists’ work I’m always energized to get back to the studio and create more. The Clio Art Fair featured a wonderful variety of artists and styles. It was a reminder that each of us are producing work that cannot be replicated because we are the secret ingredient in our own work. No one has had my specific combination of life experience and worldview and technique. Each painting is a representation of my history and personal identity in that moment, and the same is true for every artist. Within the independent art ecosystem, no one is redundant. I think that’s incredible.
Looking ahead, you’ve mentioned an interest in translating abstract concepts into visual metaphors. What new directions or questions feel most alive for you right now?
The number of ideas I’m juggling at any given moment is almost overwhelming. I suppose that’s what it means to be an artist. It’s a constant hunger to create something, release it, and promptly move on to the next. But to directly answer the question, there are two directions that I’m particularly having fun with. One is the question of individual identity shaped by experience and geography. You can expect more explorations of landscapes and geology as representation of our individual and collective journey. Another direction I’m enjoying involves animals as vessels of human emotions and understanding. Both directions lead back to an exploration of our inner states. The parts we reveal, the parts we conceal, and the parts we might not have even discovered yet.
Sherwin Cadore’s work invites viewers into a layered emotional landscape where realism and abstraction meet halfway. His portraits carry stories that feel both intimate and universal, allowing each viewer to project their own experiences onto the canvas. The result is a quiet conversation between artist, subject, and observer — one shaped by memory, rhythm, and identity.
What makes Cadore’s practice resonate is its balance of discipline and openness. Strategic thinking frames his process, yet the paintings themselves remain fluid, evolving slowly through observation, intuition, and reflection. Each work becomes a moment in a larger journey, echoing his philosophy of embracing life’s winding path.
In a world that often pushes toward certainty, Cadore’s paintings allow room for ambiguity — spaces where personal history, emotion, and imagination merge. They remind us that identity is never fixed, but continuously unfolding, much like the layered surfaces of his canvases.
You can learn more about Sherwin Cadore and his work via these links:
Website: Sherwin Cadore Instagram: @socadoreart
Saatchi Art: @Sherwin Cadore
LinkedIn: @Sherwin Cadore
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