Suzanne Masters: Layers of a Creative Life
In a quiet conversation filled with memory, reflection, and creative energy, artist Suzanne Masters traces a life shaped not by a single discipline but by a constant unfolding of curiosity. Her story moves between childhood drawings, community teaching, textile experimentation, and spiritual exploration. What emerges is a portrait of an artist who sees creativity not as a career path, but as a way of living, one that layers experience upon experience, much like the mixed-media surfaces she now creates.
Masters opens our conversation at the beginning, in a house shared with her grandparents. Growing up on the north side of the city near Schiller Park, she remembers an environment rich in small freedoms and everyday discoveries. The home itself functioned almost as a creative playground. “We lived upstairs, and my grandparent’s downstairs… I could come down the stairs, and I was in their living room, so I lived all over the place,” she recalls. It was not a formal artistic upbringing, but rather one fueled by access to materials and encouragement. Her mother would bring home leftover rolls of paper, which Masters refers to as a “bolt”. She would roll the “bolt” down the hallway and then as it laid open as an empty canvas, she would create sprawling drawings.
A garbage bag filled with scraps, glue, and glitter became her first “canvas,” and she remembers the thrill of simply having materials to explore. School reinforced that early impulse. She remembers the smell of powdered paint mixed by teachers, the anticipation of being allowed to pick up brushes, and especially a moment that stayed with her: a teacher scribbling abstract lines on paper and asking students to “make something from it.” Masters doesn’t remember what she drew, but she remembers the teacher showing it to her mother and marking it with a star. “There’s inspiration right there,” she says.
Creative ambition came early. As a child, she imagined herself as “a ballerina or a grand pianist or an artist,” reflecting a broad fascination with expression, rather than a single chosen path. Her grandmother provided classical piano lessons, another formative influence. Yet like many artists, Masters’ life did not move directly toward art. Marriage and raising children took center stage. Still, she recreated the same environment of experimentation she had known as a child, setting up creative projects at the table for her own kids. Creativity was not paused; it was simply woven into daily life.
After marital separation, Masters found herself living near Syracuse University and making a pivotal decision: she would return to school. The move signaled a shift from informal creativity to structured learning. She attended Onondaga Community College, where an art teacher recognized her affinity for intricate detail and encouraged her to pursue textile and surface design. “He said, you love little detail,” she remembers, describing how that observation helped guide her direction. She later studied ceramics and explored multiple media, embracing a philosophy that no single discipline could contain her interests. Throughout this period, she balanced creative growth with practical work. She painted houses, scraped walls, and climbed ladders, labor that, while physically demanding, still connected her to color and surface. Summer contracting work funded her studies, and eventually she found a job teaching at the Boys and Girls Club. It was there that she discovered another dimension of her identity: teaching. She describes arriving energized, ready to spark curiosity in children. “With little guys… you can say, ‘Oh, you know what we’re gonna do today?’” Masters sharing inspiration with the students.
Teaching opportunities multiplied. She worked at the Metropolitan School downtown and later taught in city schools. She also accepted a position working with individuals who could not live independently a role others avoided. Masters felt uniquely prepared, having grown up with physically handicapped parents. She recalls taping paper around the room, rolling wheelchairs up to it, and watching participants create art in ways that surprised her. “I was just blown away by what they would create,” she says. The experience reinforced her belief that creativity exists in everyone, regardless of circumstance. Her community work expanded further when she volunteered with individuals recovering from traumatic brain injuries. She collaborated with a visiting poet, combining words and images into collective artworks that she later displayed publicly. Each project led organically to the next. “One thing rolled into the next,” she reflects a phrase that recurs throughout her narrative and captures the improvisational nature of her life. Eventually, however, she stepped away from classroom teaching. Increasing behavioral challenges left her feeling more like a manager than an educator. She describes going home angry, frustrated that she was no longer able to nurture creativity in the way she valued.
The departure opened space for new directions including yoga, spiritual exploration, and the idea of opening a gallery. Her artistic life began to merge with personal growth practices, and she explored energy healing, Reiki, and intuitive forms of expression. These spiritual explorations influenced her art in unexpected ways. During Reiki sessions, she began to experience vivid imagery, which she translated into drawings and “spirit paintings.” At the same time, she discovered henna art at a belly dancing performance in Thorndon Park. Intrigued by the designs, she immersed herself in cultural traditions from around the world. She applied henna at libraries, festivals, and even Hindu weddings, where she decorated hands, arms, and feet. For children, she created a reflective exercise: drawing symbols that represented who they were, then translating those symbols into body art. The activity combined self-discovery with creativity, echoing the formative classroom moment of her childhood.
Her curiosity extended to textiles and traditional techniques such as Shibori, a Japanese dyeing process. She experimented with looms, fabrics, beads, and found materials from nature. One piece incorporated sticks, dyed cloth, and objects gathered outdoors a tactile homage to what she calls “Mother Earth.” Inspiration, she emphasizes, can appear anywhere: in a quilt show, a forest walk, or an African museum exhibit. Even during the isolation of the COVID-19 pandemic, Masters’ creativity continued evolving. She enrolled in an online art program that encouraged working on multiple canvases simultaneously. The process freed her from creative blocks and introduced new layering techniques. Acrylic paint, collage elements, handwritten text, and unconventional tools all became part of her toolkit. She describes building surfaces through repeated layers, allowing underpainting to show through and guide the composition.
Nature remains a central influence. She speaks of talking to plants, observing insects, and exploring textures in the environment. These sensibilities translate into her visual language abstract forms, organic patterns, and layered compositions that reflect both internal and external worlds. Her studio, she admits, is messy, but she sees it as an authentic reflection of her process. Creativity, for her, is not about pristine order but about active experimentation.
Today, Masters continues to paint, create textiles, make prints, and produce small cards derived from larger works. She moves fluidly between mediums, resisting labels. “You’re not a painter… you’re a creator,” she says, summarizing her own philosophy. The statement encapsulates decades of exploration across teaching, community engagement, spirituality, and artistic experimentation. Her journey illustrates how creativity can function as a lifelong thread rather than a fixed destination. From hallway drawings on scrap paper to community art projects, from textile experiments to intuitive painting, each phase built upon the last. The layers of her life mirror the layers of her artwork: overlapping, textured, and constantly evolving. Masters insists she is “not done yet.” The statement is less a conclusion than an invitation to continue exploring, learning, and creating. In her view, the muse is unpredictable, appearing in unexpected places. The task is simply to remain open.