- Published on
"Fight Like a Girl" (a collaborative diptych) - 20" x 34" x 1.75". Mixed media on deep cradled wood panel. Ready to hang (Sides are painted; no need to frame. Hanging hardware attached.) This piece was created by Trina Tarlton and Jen Jovan. Available here.
I have walked this body to the rim of its ends
From there I have seen everything else
It was there I felt the flexing of the bicep
And the sudden swing of hips
The traffic island of the heart
A basilica of stone waiting for skin
I stood on the rims and carved the tree rings in
- Jenny Hval and Susanna, "I Have Walked This Body"
This is what happens when one artist dares another to push boundaries. Things get, well, pushed.
Fight Like a Girl
Trina suggested a collaboration. We had a general idea...but then blew that out of the pond and just let it run wild. Between us, we have a lot of mutual history - spinal injury, baddassery, big love and big loss. And art.
So sending boards through the mail and painting on another person's work - whoa! But we did it. And it is something neither one of us would have independently dared to do. We've redefined how to fight like a girl.
Enjoy the video - turn up the volume, see what happens when artists collide.
So sending boards through the mail and painting on another person's work - whoa! But we did it. And it is something neither one of us would have independently dared to do. We've redefined how to fight like a girl.
Enjoy the video - turn up the volume, see what happens when artists collide.
- Published on
The Inverse Distance of Our Proximity
"The Inverse Distance of Our Proximity" (a triptych) - acrylic on cradled wood panel, 8" x 24" x .75". Ready to hang (sides are painted; no need to frame. Hanging hardware is attached.). Available here and at Artfinder.
Our human essence lies not in arrival, but in being almost there, we are creatures who are on the way, our journey a series of impending anticipated arrivals. We live by unconsciously measuring the inverse distances of our proximity: an intimacy calibrated by the vulnerability we feel in giving up our sense of separation. - DAVID WHYTE
Our human essence lies not in arrival, but in being almost there, we are creatures who are on the way, our journey a series of impending anticipated arrivals. We live by unconsciously measuring the inverse distances of our proximity: an intimacy calibrated by the vulnerability we feel in giving up our sense of separation. - DAVID WHYTE
I am almost there.
On the way. Arrival anticipated. Losing my sense of separation.
The world conspires with me. Beauty beckons. Inspiration appears. Paint flows. The words arrive to marry with the art. The time opens up to curate them together. A week of what could have been snafus, odd occurrences and off mojo turns into a domino fall of positivity. I lean back into the universe, feel its arms softly hold me, and breathe.
On the way. Arrival anticipated. Losing my sense of separation.
The world conspires with me. Beauty beckons. Inspiration appears. Paint flows. The words arrive to marry with the art. The time opens up to curate them together. A week of what could have been snafus, odd occurrences and off mojo turns into a domino fall of positivity. I lean back into the universe, feel its arms softly hold me, and breathe.
About the art: acrylic applied to unprimed birchwood panel using rubber wedge, squeegee, chopsticks, fingers and paper towels. Paying attention to one color talking to (or arguing with) another. The requisite 80 million layers. A spot of cadmium red. A sigh. Yes!
I've had a few reader requests for background tips. So here's a quick video showing one way to begin building backgrounds (similar to today's piece but larger). The unprimed wood allows a lot of sub-texture and the absorption of paint into crevices and woodgrain.
I wonder what background music Wonder Mike chose for this one?
NEW FLASH! My instagram account is now instagram.com/jenjovanart. It is being initially curated by the outrageously talented Tricia French, whose eye sees me and my art in ways I never imagined. I hope you'll take a gander and maybe linger awhile...more to come!
- Published on
"Known" - acrylic on Arches 300 lb watercolor paper, 22" x 30". Available here and at Artfinder.
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen. - Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
I've been thinking about the word beautiful.
To. me, beauty is more than what's on the outside. It is the inner human landscape shining through to the outside. Or, in the natural world, beauty includes the emotion the visual beauty arouses when we view it. So this quote, which very aptly describes why so many of my beloved tribe are the. most beautiful people on earth, struck a chord in me.
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen. - Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
I've been thinking about the word beautiful.
To. me, beauty is more than what's on the outside. It is the inner human landscape shining through to the outside. Or, in the natural world, beauty includes the emotion the visual beauty arouses when we view it. So this quote, which very aptly describes why so many of my beloved tribe are the. most beautiful people on earth, struck a chord in me.
Known
And it was oddly wonderful to process this quote even as I was creating a figure painting. The figure, drawn quickly in charcoal and then completed in acrylic paint, begins in a place of visual beauty (the human form) but is only complete because of the intensity of the gaze. I continue to hunt for emotion and attempt to capture it in the paint.
In the photo (left), you can see the size of the piece. But also that I am trying to figure out what the heck he is gazing at out there. He hadn't told me yet. But when he does, you'll be the first to know. :)
So I don't have a demo video for you today...but I have this amazing TED Talk on the power of awe and the role of art in creating it (thank you Mark H. for sharing this with me!). Take a look! I'd love to hear what you think. :)
- Published on
"Wild Wild Life" - acrylic on cradled wood panel, 12" x 12" x .75". Available here and at Artfinder.
I'm wearing-a fur pajamas
I ride a hot potato
It's tickling my fancy
Speak up, I can't hear you
Here on this mountaintop, oh-oh-oh
I got some wild, wild life
I got some news to tell you, oh-oh
About some wild, wild life
from the Talking Heads - "Wild Wild Life"
Here on this mountaintop...where I was last week after the most challenging and awe-inspiring hike of my life. Which was part of an entire week of recharging in the great outdoors, finding inspiration and energizing my depleted batteries. If you need a power boost, climb a mountain in deep snow, stand on the top and yell "WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" to the universe. Just sayin'.
Wild Wild Life
Let's talk grasshoppers and ants for a minute.
The proverbial grasshopper plays in the sun, doesn't think much about tomorrow, is present and maybe ill-prepared for calamity. The ant, on the other hand, is all about storing for a rainy day, work work working - no play, and making sure every future possibility is covered. I've spent my entire life as an ant. And I thought that was because, well, I was an ant at heart.
But recently (thank you pandemic for keeping me less busy and giving me time to think!) I've uncovered the very real possibility that my ant-ness was in response to a long history of situations that left me holding the responsibility bag and therefore ant-ness was required. So I've decided to give my inner grasshopper an open door. And whoa. It. might just be the key to everything. Less anxiety, less exhaustion, better sleep, MORE JOY and the ability to make and savor deeper connections with humans and the world around me.
And so I might be late now and again. Or miss a deadline. Or have nothing in the refrigerator. But on the other hand, I'm wearing-a fur pajamas, I ride a hot potato. It's tickling my fancy. Want to join me?
The proverbial grasshopper plays in the sun, doesn't think much about tomorrow, is present and maybe ill-prepared for calamity. The ant, on the other hand, is all about storing for a rainy day, work work working - no play, and making sure every future possibility is covered. I've spent my entire life as an ant. And I thought that was because, well, I was an ant at heart.
But recently (thank you pandemic for keeping me less busy and giving me time to think!) I've uncovered the very real possibility that my ant-ness was in response to a long history of situations that left me holding the responsibility bag and therefore ant-ness was required. So I've decided to give my inner grasshopper an open door. And whoa. It. might just be the key to everything. Less anxiety, less exhaustion, better sleep, MORE JOY and the ability to make and savor deeper connections with humans and the world around me.
And so I might be late now and again. Or miss a deadline. Or have nothing in the refrigerator. But on the other hand, I'm wearing-a fur pajamas, I ride a hot potato. It's tickling my fancy. Want to join me?
- Published on
The Pine Tree
"The Pine Tree" - charcoal and acrylic on Arches 300 lb watercolor paper, 15" x 22". Available here and at Artfinder
Come to me pine tree and we will never part
We'll put our roots down deep in each other's heart
from The Pine Tree by Johnny Cash
A recent walk through Powell Butte Nature Park has me filled with the scent of pine. So many trees and branches of those great giants were on the forest floor after the big melt, and pine essence just saturated the atmosphere. It was aroma-palooza!
So that prompted me to finalize this abstracted landscape, which was begun two posts ago with a double 3 minute sketch (two pieces at once using charcoal and water). This stooped pine was from a hike on Silver Star Mountain, where the snow lay heavily on everything, making slouched figures from trees, long arms from branches, and a visual feast of sparkle in the sunlight.
For this piece, I decided to stick with a limited color palette: ultramarine blue, raw umber, titanium white and a small drop of dioxazine purple (which happened to be leftover and still wet on my paint palette). The majority is painted with a wide, wet brush, with a bit of squeegee, some finger painting, and a small brush for a few finishing touches.
It is a serene, simple piece. Evocative of the hush and solitude of the mountain in winter, with nary a soul but my sister and me.
Note: demo video has an audio soundtrack! Turn on the volume. :)
It is a serene, simple piece. Evocative of the hush and solitude of the mountain in winter, with nary a soul but my sister and me.
Note: demo video has an audio soundtrack! Turn on the volume. :)
- Published on
"Learning to be Astonished" - acrylic and charcoal on arches 300 lb watercolor paper, 15" x 22". Available here and at Artfinder.
My work is loving the world...
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
Keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
Which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.
--Mary Oliver from The Messenger
I am learning to be astonished.
Not by the state of the world, or politics or pandemics, which filled my astonishment quota in the past. No, I am learning to be astonished by everything else. By the evening light filtering through gnarled, bare trees. By the tender green shoots springing up through ice and snow. By the feel of a hand in mine. Astonished by words of encouragement, a sweet smile from a stranger or a dog who gently ducks her head under my hand for a good rub.
I was too busy before to truly be astonished by these things. I could see them, appreciate them. But astonishment is new to me. And there is space for it because I have slowed way down.
My work is loving the world...
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
Keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
Which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.
--Mary Oliver from The Messenger
I am learning to be astonished.
Not by the state of the world, or politics or pandemics, which filled my astonishment quota in the past. No, I am learning to be astonished by everything else. By the evening light filtering through gnarled, bare trees. By the tender green shoots springing up through ice and snow. By the feel of a hand in mine. Astonished by words of encouragement, a sweet smile from a stranger or a dog who gently ducks her head under my hand for a good rub.
I was too busy before to truly be astonished by these things. I could see them, appreciate them. But astonishment is new to me. And there is space for it because I have slowed way down.
Learning to Be Astonished
And isn't it lovely permission, Oliver's words, that our work is "mostly standing still and learning to be astonished"...permission to pause, savor, stand. Let's stand here together, dear reader, in rapt astonishment. :)
About the art: Beginning with a Notan from a recent hike (and reader poll! Thank you!) and applying the 3/5 rule for gestures with figures (3 minutes to capture the gist of it with charcoal and 5 min to lay in the values with a brush water and titanium white). Then deciding to do TWO at one time.
The remainder of the piece was created with layers of acrylic paint, a water sprayer, layers of glaze (color diluted with matte medium) and a rubber wedge, paper towel, fingers and brushes. Resisting the tiny details and heading toward abstraction, like standing on the edge of a cliff...is THIS too far? How about THIS? ha ha!
The remainder of the piece was created with layers of acrylic paint, a water sprayer, layers of glaze (color diluted with matte medium) and a rubber wedge, paper towel, fingers and brushes. Resisting the tiny details and heading toward abstraction, like standing on the edge of a cliff...is THIS too far? How about THIS? ha ha!
- Published on
"Start Close In" - acrylic on repurposed board, 11" x 26" x .75". Ready to hang (sides are painting; no need to frame. Hanging wire is attached) Available here and at Artfinder.
Start close in,
don’t take
the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.
Start with
the ground
you know,
the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own
way to begin
the conversation.
from "Start Close In" by David Whyte
Start Close In
This piece wasn't exactly supposed to happen.
It began as a paint throwing (splattering, spreading, spraying, playing) experiment and then, as it tends to be, I saw a face in the paint. A form, a pose, a shape. Honestly, one of a number of life drawing pose pics I've been contemplating was stuck in my head. So I grabbed the paint (and not the camera, dang it) and just kept going.
There is something about vulnerability in a male face, gesture, body, pose - that strength and softness in one that speaks to this tender hearted artist in loud voices that say PAINT ME. And so, I did. :)
It began as a paint throwing (splattering, spreading, spraying, playing) experiment and then, as it tends to be, I saw a face in the paint. A form, a pose, a shape. Honestly, one of a number of life drawing pose pics I've been contemplating was stuck in my head. So I grabbed the paint (and not the camera, dang it) and just kept going.
There is something about vulnerability in a male face, gesture, body, pose - that strength and softness in one that speaks to this tender hearted artist in loud voices that say PAINT ME. And so, I did. :)
A pictorial history of the painting:
- Published on
"Big Sky " - charcoal and acrylic on Arches 300 lb watercolor paper, 30" x 22". Available here and at Artfinder.
That cloud, that cloud--
Looks like Ireland.
C'mon and blow it a kiss now
But quick
'Cause it's changing in the Big Sky
It's changing in the Big Sky now.
We're looking at the Big Sky.
from Big Sky by Kate Bush
The hiking skies have been dazzling lately. It might be their penchant to blossom before big storms, or maybe it is just the art gods smiling down and providing photo inspiration for me. Either way, I've been lucky enough to stand under some big skies.
That cloud, that cloud--
Looks like Ireland.
C'mon and blow it a kiss now
But quick
'Cause it's changing in the Big Sky
It's changing in the Big Sky now.
We're looking at the Big Sky.
from Big Sky by Kate Bush
The hiking skies have been dazzling lately. It might be their penchant to blossom before big storms, or maybe it is just the art gods smiling down and providing photo inspiration for me. Either way, I've been lucky enough to stand under some big skies.
Big Sky
Whether it is a big sky over the ocean or a big sky on top of a mountain, my heart leaps and my eyes widen and I have to stop and ogle. The thing about skies is - they change in a second. The sunlight shifts, the clouds morph and move, the mists overcome the light...you have a second to capture that image. Or an hour to stand slack-jawed and just watch its splendor. It is the cure for many things, these big skies. Go out there and get one for yourself. Let me know what you see. :)
About the art: using an inspiration photo turned into a notan from a recent hike, I decided to apply the 3 min gesture/5 min shadow paint technique I used in figures recently to an abstracted landscape. This portion is captured in the GoPro video (left). Then using a limited palette and building big sky and sea. Painting with brushes, damp and paint-laden bunched up paper towels, rubber wedge, squeegee and fingers. Liberal use of water spray.. Pushing and pulling lights and darks until...well, until the tension was resolved. I am feeling much less tense now. ha ha!
notan
charcoal and titanium white
adding layers
more layers
- Published on
Robustly Vulnerable
"Robustly Vulnerable" - charcoal and acrylic on Arches 300 lb watercolor paper, 22" x 30". Sold.
In love we subvert the everyday structures of the life we had built so carefully and raze them to foundations on which a new, shared life can be built again. Unrequited love has its own form of fearful falling, but falling into a full felt and reciprocated love we face the most difficult, most revealing and most beautiful questions of all: are we large enough and generous enough and present enough; are we deserving enough, and ready enough and robustly vulnerable enough, to hold the joy, the future grief, and the overwhelming sense of privileged blessing that lies in that embrace? - DAVID WHYTE
I spend a lot of time contemplating vulnerability and its exquisiteness in relationships. The moments I remember most in life are almost inevitably those when the inner self (my self, yourself, himself, herself) spills over and transforms the outer - with a touch, with a smile, with tears or becoming overwhelmed, undone, melted - and few people can describe the depth of that moment better than David Whyte. This quote left me quite overwhelmed. The idea of robust vulnerability - oh.
This painting came about just before reading the quote. I love when the universe does that - provides the words to describe what the paint revealed.
In love we subvert the everyday structures of the life we had built so carefully and raze them to foundations on which a new, shared life can be built again. Unrequited love has its own form of fearful falling, but falling into a full felt and reciprocated love we face the most difficult, most revealing and most beautiful questions of all: are we large enough and generous enough and present enough; are we deserving enough, and ready enough and robustly vulnerable enough, to hold the joy, the future grief, and the overwhelming sense of privileged blessing that lies in that embrace? - DAVID WHYTE
I spend a lot of time contemplating vulnerability and its exquisiteness in relationships. The moments I remember most in life are almost inevitably those when the inner self (my self, yourself, himself, herself) spills over and transforms the outer - with a touch, with a smile, with tears or becoming overwhelmed, undone, melted - and few people can describe the depth of that moment better than David Whyte. This quote left me quite overwhelmed. The idea of robust vulnerability - oh.
This painting came about just before reading the quote. I love when the universe does that - provides the words to describe what the paint revealed.
About the art: beginning with a three minute gesture drawing in brown charcoal, then coming in with a wet brush and some titanium white acrylic paint to start forming the shadows and layers. Resisting the urge to over-work the face and form - painting in from the outside to refine angles and shapes. Liberal use of the water sprayer to provide texture. Using the squeegee to drag the paint and blur harsh lines. Walking away while some of the paper and charcoal are still showing. Always chasing the elusive place where emotion and realism are just palpable on the edge of abstraction.
- Published on
notans from hiking photos
Everyone is a hunter
Some hunt for love
Some hunt for independence
Some hunt for a sense of purpose
Some hunt for the truth
We shouldn’t be afraid of the hunt
Wherever it takes us
Or whatever it makes us
Find what matters
And keep hunting
(Source: something I watched on tv. I was so busy writing down the dialogue that I forgot to write down the source. ha! Whatever the source, the words are not mine)
This week I spent a lot of time hunting.
Hunting for beauty, for light, for composition. Hunting for that feeling you get when you've pushed your body a little beyond what it wants to do. Hunting for sun on my face, snow crunching under my boots, mud squishing as I lift my foot. Hunting for deep, meaningful connection and lightheartedness and earnestness. Hunting for a quiet mind and peaceful heart.
And hunting took me into the frozen tundra of Silver Star Mountain and then to the warm sun and mud of the Oregon Coast. My feet were made for tromping.
Some hunt for love
Some hunt for independence
Some hunt for a sense of purpose
Some hunt for the truth
We shouldn’t be afraid of the hunt
Wherever it takes us
Or whatever it makes us
Find what matters
And keep hunting
(Source: something I watched on tv. I was so busy writing down the dialogue that I forgot to write down the source. ha! Whatever the source, the words are not mine)
This week I spent a lot of time hunting.
Hunting for beauty, for light, for composition. Hunting for that feeling you get when you've pushed your body a little beyond what it wants to do. Hunting for sun on my face, snow crunching under my boots, mud squishing as I lift my foot. Hunting for deep, meaningful connection and lightheartedness and earnestness. Hunting for a quiet mind and peaceful heart.
And hunting took me into the frozen tundra of Silver Star Mountain and then to the warm sun and mud of the Oregon Coast. My feet were made for tromping.
I've written here often about the softening of my edges and the opening of my heart. And what I found in my hunting is this: it takes me a little longer to process these experiences lately because they soak in well beyond my surface. There is so much...so very much...exquisiteness and beauty and sound and scent and texture and feeling and OH OH OH.
So, as I process it all today, I contemplate the next painting. With more images to choose from than an artist maybe has a right to have, I've narrowed it down to the three here. Notanized photographs from these hikes, with interesting compositions and values and line and shape. Not too busy, not too simple. I will put these on the wall of my studio to contemplate. But, dear reader, if you have an opinion on which notan is most interesting, let me know in the comments below. Wherever your weekend takes you - happy hunting!
So, as I process it all today, I contemplate the next painting. With more images to choose from than an artist maybe has a right to have, I've narrowed it down to the three here. Notanized photographs from these hikes, with interesting compositions and values and line and shape. Not too busy, not too simple. I will put these on the wall of my studio to contemplate. But, dear reader, if you have an opinion on which notan is most interesting, let me know in the comments below. Wherever your weekend takes you - happy hunting!
