I love making art. I can’t help it. I’ve been putting pictures on paper for as long as I can remember.
I was hugely influenced by both of my parents. There's a photo of the three of us sitting out on the grass in our yard with a big pad of paper with drawings of varying skill all over it (I think I was around two at the time). I can remember asking my dad to draw things for me, like a horse for example. I would sit and watch the creature magically appear. A few times throughout the process my heart would sink because it wasn’t turning out how I thought it should. Eventuality, as the details were added, I saw that he did know what he was doing and it would turn out better than I had hoped!
One of my favorite artists is Makoto Fujimura. He uses layer upon layer of gold, silver, other elements and minerals to make his work shine with depth. I’ve tried to replicate this depth by adding gold and silver to every pigment I put on the canvas. I’ve learned that every layer makes a difference... even the accidental ones. One time our daughter covered an entire corner of a painting with red paint. Not only does the memory remain, but also the texture it created under the layers I put down to cover it. If you look closely at the cobblestones in the lower left hand corner of the largest painting you can still see a bit of the red paint and bumpy globs.
Over time I’m learning the importance of observation and perspective. I’m learning to ask why do people/places/things look the way they do? What is affecting the subject? The sun? The wind? The season it’s in? Pain? Joy? What about MY attitude? Is it affecting the subject? What else is affecting it? I rely heavily on these things.
Here’s a snapshot of the thoughts that went into these paintings:
#1 God's grace in the midst of our pain is like a beautiful flower in a ravaged forest.
#2 Our life, like a winding path has seasons. It can feel hidden at times and will have its ups and downs.
#3 The vastness of God’s love and creativity is truly awesome.
#4 Sometimes our journey towards home takes us through the desert, but hope is in the future.
#5 Provision doesn't always come the way we expect.
Through the years my artwork has grown beyond something I do just because I love doing it. Rather, it’s becoming something I do under God's inspiration.
I hope that you enjoy these pieces.
I love making art. I can’t help it. I’ve been putting pictures on paper for as long as I can remember.
I was hugely influenced by both of my parents. There's a photo of the three of us sitting out on the grass in our yard with a big pad of paper with drawings of varying skill all over it (I think I was around two at the time). I can remember asking my dad to draw things for me, like a horse for example. I would sit and watch the creature magically appear. A few times throughout the process my heart would sink because it wasn’t turning out how I thought it should. Eventuality, as the details were added, I saw that he did know what he was doing and it would turn out better than I had hoped!
One of my favorite artists is Makoto Fujimura. He uses layer upon layer of gold, silver, other elements and minerals to make his work shine with depth. I’ve tried to replicate this depth by adding gold and silver to every pigment I put on the canvas. I’ve learned that every layer makes a difference... even the accidental ones. One time our daughter covered an entire corner of a painting with red paint. Not only does the memory remain, but also the texture it created under the layers I put down to cover it. If you look closely at the cobblestones in the lower left hand corner of the largest painting you can still see a bit of the red paint and bumpy globs.
Over time I’m learning the importance of observation and perspective. I’m learning to ask why do people/places/things look the way they do? What is affecting the subject? The sun? The wind? The season it’s in? Pain? Joy? What about MY attitude? Is it affecting the subject? What else is affecting it? I rely heavily on these things.
Here’s a snapshot of the thoughts that went into these paintings:
#1 God's grace in the midst of our pain is like a beautiful flower in a ravaged forest.
#2 Our life, like a winding path has seasons. It can feel hidden at times and will have its ups and downs.
#3 The vastness of God’s love and creativity is truly awesome.
#4 Sometimes our journey towards home takes us through the desert, but hope is in the future.
#5 Provision doesn't always come the way we expect.
Through the years my artwork has grown beyond something I do just because I love doing it. Rather, it’s becoming something I do under God's inspiration.
I hope that you enjoy these pieces.
JULIE JEANSEAU
Painting connects the seen with the unseen, merging the objects that surround us with the mystery of our experience within. When I begin a new series or new landscape I begin with what I see. I want to draw well and understand the composition and color within the scene that I am attempting to engage with. This is a conversation though, and if I new all the outcomes, the excitement of exploring with paint would die for me.
The longer I spend in the place, the place and objects begin to fade as my emotion and interaction come forward. Abstraction emerges and what I know about the objects I’m painting can actually begin to hold me back in my desire to express. Our beautiful northwest landscape draws awe from me and it is this awe that I ultimately want to get at in my work.
I do not paint to show you the exactness of where I was, but I paint to show you the human experience engaging with the divine awe in the world around us. In order to do this, I have to begin to trust the colors and lines that come from my intuition and have been practiced in my studio. I have to listen to the pushes and pulls of composition, informing me as much as I conform it.
Painting takes courage. It takes courage to share our voice, to practice, to not always get it right, but to continue to move forward. Hoping for a glimpse of the divine and the patience to rest when we find it.
In many ways my hope is that these paintings begin to become icons, written prayers to celebrate my creator.
JULIE JEANSEAU
Painting connects the seen with the unseen, merging the objects that surround us with the mystery of our experience within. When I begin a new series or new landscape I begin with what I see. I want to draw well and understand the composition and color within the scene that I am attempting to engage with. This is a conversation though, and if I new all the outcomes, the excitement of exploring with paint would die for me.
The longer I spend in the place, the place and objects begin to fade as my emotion and interaction come forward. Abstraction emerges and what I know about the objects I’m painting can actually begin to hold me back in my desire to express. Our beautiful northwest landscape draws awe from me and it is this awe that I ultimately want to get at in my work.
I do not paint to show you the exactness of where I was, but I paint to show you the human experience engaging with the divine awe in the world around us. In order to do this, I have to begin to trust the colors and lines that come from my intuition and have been practiced in my studio. I have to listen to the pushes and pulls of composition, informing me as much as I conform it.
Painting takes courage. It takes courage to share our voice, to practice, to not always get it right, but to continue to move forward. Hoping for a glimpse of the divine and the patience to rest when we find it.
In many ways my hope is that these paintings begin to become icons, written prayers to celebrate my creator.
SARAH ROSELLA CUEVAS
There is a hope within all of us to be good. With this body of work, I have taken this small hope and cradled it. I’ve given it some room to grow. Using symbols and compositions from early Christian paintings and altarpieces, the Mission School art movement, and the writing of John Steinbeck as well as other fiction authors, this body of work is an invitation to step into a modern-day altarpiece. Cradled encounters the paradox of light and dark that exists within our own minds and bodies.
Textile work is an homage to the “home.” Fabric is comforting. It clothes us, it acts as armor. Fabric and embroidery has a level of tradition and femininity to it, its own nature is calming and comforting. I work with fabric because of this cradling affect it has on me. With this body of work, I have balanced this sense of comfort and sacred with things that are difficult and painful. With the warm and comforting medium of fabric, I have slowly and gently been able to enter into conversations with God about things in my life that have been cripplingly painful.
My own process of creating is incredibly prayerful. I have developed a visual vocabulary with myself and God in some of the symbols and images I choose to stitch into fabric. Some repeated images you will see in my work are knives, hammers, hands, and words. Each one of these objects or concepts has the potential to either be helpful or harmful. Tools, hammers, and knives can be used to build. They can also be used to tear down. Hands and words have the capacity to comfort and protect, but they also have the ability to harm and hurt. I enjoy working in this area of thought. Where sometimes the things that wound us can end up bringing us peace and joy. Where sometimes God is so distant we can barely hear his voice, and sometimes he is so close we can feel his breath on our skin.
Cradled is riddled with symbols and images found within the novels East of Eden, White Oleander, and Sharp Objects, and paired with common, everyday symbols people will recognize and react to. Literature has been integral to my development as an artist and as a person of faith, and I believe stories hold more power than we can ever know. Within each novel I’ve chosen to draw from characters who battle not against the powers of the world, but against themselves. I invite you into a space of quietness, peace, and contemplation as you view this work. Maybe even to ask yourself if you have been in a place where comfort and pain shared the same bed. My hope is that you will be able to find something of yourself in this body of work. That the everyday symbols stories and metaphors I have used in these pieces will find a way to speak into the experiences others have had.
Please email sarah.rosella.cuevas@gmail.com for inquiries.
SARAH ROSELLA CUEVAS
There is a hope within all of us to be good. With this body of work, I have taken this small hope and cradled it. I’ve given it some room to grow. Using symbols and compositions from early Christian paintings and altarpieces, the Mission School art movement, and the writing of John Steinbeck as well as other fiction authors, this body of work is an invitation to step into a modern-day altarpiece. Cradled encounters the paradox of light and dark that exists within our own minds and bodies.
Textile work is an homage to the “home.” Fabric is comforting. It clothes us, it acts as armor. Fabric and embroidery has a level of tradition and femininity to it, its own nature is calming and comforting. I work with fabric because of this cradling affect it has on me. With this body of work, I have balanced this sense of comfort and sacred with things that are difficult and painful. With the warm and comforting medium of fabric, I have slowly and gently been able to enter into conversations with God about things in my life that have been cripplingly painful.
My own process of creating is incredibly prayerful. I have developed a visual vocabulary with myself and God in some of the symbols and images I choose to stitch into fabric. Some repeated images you will see in my work are knives, hammers, hands, and words. Each one of these objects or concepts has the potential to either be helpful or harmful. Tools, hammers, and knives can be used to build. They can also be used to tear down. Hands and words have the capacity to comfort and protect, but they also have the ability to harm and hurt. I enjoy working in this area of thought. Where sometimes the things that wound us can end up bringing us peace and joy. Where sometimes God is so distant we can barely hear his voice, and sometimes he is so close we can feel his breath on our skin.
Cradled is riddled with symbols and images found within the novels East of Eden, White Oleander, and Sharp Objects, and paired with common, everyday symbols people will recognize and react to. Literature has been integral to my development as an artist and as a person of faith, and I believe stories hold more power than we can ever know. Within each novel I’ve chosen to draw from characters who battle not against the powers of the world, but against themselves. I invite you into a space of quietness, peace, and contemplation as you view this work. Maybe even to ask yourself if you have been in a place where comfort and pain shared the same bed. My hope is that you will be able to find something of yourself in this body of work. That the everyday symbols stories and metaphors I have used in these pieces will find a way to speak into the experiences others have had.
Please email sarah.rosella.cuevas@gmail.com for inquiries.
Lonely may not seem to accurately describe the experience of a city. Against the buzz of the city an Urban Solitude can be found. Suddenly, occupying a public place becomes an intimate and personal experience. In fact, this Urban Solitude is not meant to be an expression of loneliness. Rather it is a personal break from the beat of life. It can be found between the workspace and the homeplace, where the mind freely wanders against the hum of the street.
The photographs show an intimacy with my subject, but I know I am an outsider. I am a participant in a moment, but not in their lives. While the camera mediates an interaction between us, we each maintain our personal spaces. I enter their space for just a moment; enough for a brief acknowledgement but not so long to break their Urban Solitude. Photographing is my Urban Solitude, and so I move on.
About the Artist
Mick Hangland-Skill (b. 1997) is a photographer and designer born and based in Portland, OR. In 2019, Hangland-Skill will graduate from George Fox University with a Bachelor of Arts in graphic design and studio art. Using analog film and antique cameras, Hangland-Skill searches for found subjects and scenes on beaches, sidewalks and in parks. But he does not stop there. Hangland-Skill also works in graphic design, interested in projects that involve typography, brand strategy and book-forms. In time spent other than working, he enjoys music on the stereo and company in his home.
Contackt Mick at mr.hanglandskill@gmail.com
Visit his website: mickhs.com
Lonely may not seem to accurately describe the experience of a city. Against the buzz of the city an Urban Solitude can be found. Suddenly, occupying a public place becomes an intimate and personal experience. In fact, this Urban Solitude is not meant to be an expression of loneliness. Rather it is a personal break from the beat of life. It can be found between the workspace and the homeplace, where the mind freely wanders against the hum of the street.
The photographs show an intimacy with my subject, but I know I am an outsider. I am a participant in a moment, but not in their lives. While the camera mediates an interaction between us, we each maintain our personal spaces. I enter their space for just a moment; enough for a brief acknowledgement but not so long to break their Urban Solitude. Photographing is my Urban Solitude, and so I move on.
About the Artist
Mick Hangland-Skill (b. 1997) is a photographer and designer born and based in Portland, OR. In 2019, Hangland-Skill will graduate from George Fox University with a Bachelor of Arts in graphic design and studio art. Using analog film and antique cameras, Hangland-Skill searches for found subjects and scenes on beaches, sidewalks and in parks. But he does not stop there. Hangland-Skill also works in graphic design, interested in projects that involve typography, brand strategy and book-forms. In time spent other than working, he enjoys music on the stereo and company in his home.
Contackt Mick at mr.hanglandskill@gmail.com
Visit his website: mickhs.com
For many years my work has centered around people and our common humanity: celebrating and exploring what unites us as well as our unique differences. In 2015 after the terrorist attack in Paris on the Bataclan concert venue, I watched in stunned silence, as many did, the horrific images on TV. I will never forget the words of a young French man being interviewed who had been at the concert. He was clearly in shock and yet he said , “We must love the differences.” His words had a special poignance considering what he had just witnessed, but spoke volumes as to the power of love and our moral duty to take a stand against hate. In my work I want to celebrate our differences as well as our common humanity- and even though the paintings here span a number of years that is the thread that unites them all.
People interested in purchasing work can contact the artist directly at: angelina.woolley@gmail.com
For many years my work has centered around people and our common humanity: celebrating and exploring what unites us as well as our unique differences. In 2015 after the terrorist attack in Paris on the Bataclan concert venue, I watched in stunned silence, as many did, the horrific images on TV. I will never forget the words of a young French man being interviewed who had been at the concert. He was clearly in shock and yet he said , “We must love the differences.” His words had a special poignance considering what he had just witnessed, but spoke volumes as to the power of love and our moral duty to take a stand against hate. In my work I want to celebrate our differences as well as our common humanity- and even though the paintings here span a number of years that is the thread that unites them all.
People interested in purchasing work can contact the artist directly at: angelina.woolley@gmail.com
I have been a creative person since childhood (that’s 50+ years) and specifically a painter for the last 12 years. After accumulating multiple paintings that either didn’t sell or never got out of my studio to be shown, I questioned whether or not to be continue painting at all. I signed up for a week long painting workshop at Menucha. My prayer was for direction during this week. Not only did I get a wonderfully artistically skilled workshop leader, but someone who got who I was. She encouraged me to continue in my painting in multiple ways, artistically, personally, and spiritually.
Series: Women and Children of the South Sudan
Sometime back, I read with horror about the women and children of the South Sudan who were physically and sexually abused as a tactic of war. For the last two years, I have daily prayed that the Sudanese women and children would rise up and that the abusing men would be convicted of the despicableness of their intended abuse and fall away in shame.
These paintings of the last six months are inspired by photos of these women of the South Sudan. I have changed them all in various ways, but wanted to keep the sense of who they are and what they might be feeling. I also wanted to show their dignity and beauty.
— Loie Naylor
I have been a creative person since childhood (that’s 50+ years) and specifically a painter for the last 12 years. After accumulating multiple paintings that either didn’t sell or never got out of my studio to be shown, I questioned whether or not to be continue painting at all. I signed up for a week long painting workshop at Menucha. My prayer was for direction during this week. Not only did I get a wonderfully artistically skilled workshop leader, but someone who got who I was. She encouraged me to continue in my painting in multiple ways, artistically, personally, and spiritually.
Series: Women and Children of the South Sudan
Sometime back, I read with horror about the women and children of the South Sudan who were physically and sexually abused as a tactic of war. For the last two years, I have daily prayed that the Sudanese women and children would rise up and that the abusing men would be convicted of the despicableness of their intended abuse and fall away in shame.
These paintings of the last six months are inspired by photos of these women of the South Sudan. I have changed them all in various ways, but wanted to keep the sense of who they are and what they might be feeling. I also wanted to show their dignity and beauty.
— Loie Naylor
I tend to think of myself as having always been a fine artist. But since I came to accept Jesus into my heart March of 2002 as a very broken twenty-two year old, there really has not been an art piece I have created that does not reflect something of my faith. So that, in a most general sense, is the common denominator of all of these pieces.
Many of these pieces reflect the heart I feel God has given me for other cultures. When God called me to work as a missionary in South Africa with Church Resource Ministries from 2007-2010, I experienced transformation beyond what I ever thought possible. God showed me that I was created "for such a time as this," to speak to all nations, including my own, about an incredible message of redemption, hope, and love. In 2008 a teammate gave me a prophetic message: "Sarah: You have a job to do now: To illustrate God's presence here on earth. . . Do it." God has given me a supremely blessed life, including adventures and mission trips in Eastern and Western Europe, Asia, and Africa as well as Bible schools (Torchbearers International) in the alps of Austria and the cold terrain of Québec.
Some of my pieces illustrate the chaos and brokenness of this world clashing with God's call to rest, worship, and point others to God. Many are Holy Spirit inspired.
Now I work for LifeWorks NW as a Child and Family Art Therapist serving kids age 5-11 with severe mental health issues, nearly all impacted by trauma. Just another vocation in which I feel God has called me to live out a higher purpose on this earth. I hold it as the highest honor and look forward to what adventures still await in God's purposes for me.
— Sarah Woolley
I tend to think of myself as having always been a fine artist. But since I came to accept Jesus into my heart March of 2002 as a very broken twenty-two year old, there really has not been an art piece I have created that does not reflect something of my faith. So that, in a most general sense, is the common denominator of all of these pieces.
Many of these pieces reflect the heart I feel God has given me for other cultures. When God called me to work as a missionary in South Africa with Church Resource Ministries from 2007-2010, I experienced transformation beyond what I ever thought possible. God showed me that I was created "for such a time as this," to speak to all nations, including my own, about an incredible message of redemption, hope, and love. In 2008 a teammate gave me a prophetic message: "Sarah: You have a job to do now: To illustrate God's presence here on earth. . . Do it." God has given me a supremely blessed life, including adventures and mission trips in Eastern and Western Europe, Asia, and Africa as well as Bible schools (Torchbearers International) in the alps of Austria and the cold terrain of Québec.
Some of my pieces illustrate the chaos and brokenness of this world clashing with God's call to rest, worship, and point others to God. Many are Holy Spirit inspired.
Now I work for LifeWorks NW as a Child and Family Art Therapist serving kids age 5-11 with severe mental health issues, nearly all impacted by trauma. Just another vocation in which I feel God has called me to live out a higher purpose on this earth. I hold it as the highest honor and look forward to what adventures still await in God's purposes for me.
— Sarah Woolley
Just how seasons constantly change and evolve, so does life. There have been several key seasons in mine. Some are seasons of joy, sunshine and summer... others are dark, cold, long and winter. I paint all of the seasons in my work. While I enjoy some seasons better than others, I live through them all and that is mirrored in my artistic expression.
Every day we wake up and make a choice; joy or pain, freedom or slavery, light or darkness, beauty or mediocrity. Am I willing to choose to stand up for what is right, beautiful and good... It is a concept that has been ingrained in me. My middle name is Joy. The name isn't an automatic and innately given characteristic, it is a choice. The only reason that I know how to paint is because of 14 years of sickness. I chose to get up every day and make the best of it. I used my time to learn how to paint. This ability has ultimately changed the entire course of my life. Now I am inseparable from my painting. If I am not creating, life isn't quite as full. It is a piece of me, so is my Joy. I am thankful to God for turning “ashes into beauty” in all the situations of my life. From my sickness, I have been given one of the greatest gifts!
After graduating from George Fox University with a Bachelor of Fine Arts, I have had some incredible opportunities including travel, gallery showings, and continued apprentices with other artists that I admire.
My hope is that my paintings may share some of the joy we all strive for, in the journey through all the seasons of our lives.
If there is a painting that you are interested in purchasing, please send me an email at christinejoypaintings@gmail.com or by visiting www.christinejoypaintings.com!
— Christine Joy
Just how seasons constantly change and evolve, so does life. There have been several key seasons in mine. Some are seasons of joy, sunshine and summer... others are dark, cold, long and winter. I paint all of the seasons in my work. While I enjoy some seasons better than others, I live through them all and that is mirrored in my artistic expression.
Every day we wake up and make a choice; joy or pain, freedom or slavery, light or darkness, beauty or mediocrity. Am I willing to choose to stand up for what is right, beautiful and good... It is a concept that has been ingrained in me. My middle name is Joy. The name isn't an automatic and innately given characteristic, it is a choice. The only reason that I know how to paint is because of 14 years of sickness. I chose to get up every day and make the best of it. I used my time to learn how to paint. This ability has ultimately changed the entire course of my life. Now I am inseparable from my painting. If I am not creating, life isn't quite as full. It is a piece of me, so is my Joy. I am thankful to God for turning “ashes into beauty” in all the situations of my life. From my sickness, I have been given one of the greatest gifts!
After graduating from George Fox University with a Bachelor of Fine Arts, I have had some incredible opportunities including travel, gallery showings, and continued apprentices with other artists that I admire.
My hope is that my paintings may share some of the joy we all strive for, in the journey through all the seasons of our lives.
If there is a painting that you are interested in purchasing, please send me an email at christinejoypaintings@gmail.com or by visiting www.christinejoypaintings.com!
— Christine Joy
Collagraph is a process of printmaking where one creates a 3-D collage that can be printed, as demonstrated in the floating prints. The framed prints are monotypes, which, in this case, are made by inking plexi-glass and using stencils. Printmaking is typically a very tight and controlled process. However, collagraphs and monotypes leave plenty of room for surprises! No two prints will be identical. This experimentation encourages me to learn, play, and create all kinds of work that I could never image drawing. I find the abstraction of monoprinting freeing and inspiring, and my printing process is just as important as how the print turns out.
Annelise is a lifelong artist. She graduated in 2015 from George Fox University as an art major and business double minor. Annelise works at Art Impressions, a rubber stamp company. Attending trade shows and learning about the growing craft industry have been a wonderful way to expand both her art and business experience.
Collagraph is a process of printmaking where one creates a 3-D collage that can be printed, as demonstrated in the floating prints. The framed prints are monotypes, which, in this case, are made by inking plexi-glass and using stencils. Printmaking is typically a very tight and controlled process. However, collagraphs and monotypes leave plenty of room for surprises! No two prints will be identical. This experimentation encourages me to learn, play, and create all kinds of work that I could never image drawing. I find the abstraction of monoprinting freeing and inspiring, and my printing process is just as important as how the print turns out.
Annelise is a lifelong artist. She graduated in 2015 from George Fox University as an art major and business double minor. Annelise works at Art Impressions, a rubber stamp company. Attending trade shows and learning about the growing craft industry have been a wonderful way to expand both her art and business experience.
Childhood can be a beautiful time. Mine was, and I realize now how lucky I was. My childhood home along the Clackamas river with a forest in the backyard and big brother to hide in the trees with, was my safe place and refuge. Of course all things come to a close, change and shift and so reality filtered into my life through school, a learning disability and family pain. The world beyond my gate was confusing, difficult to understand and left me wondering how to function. The world in the forest is calm, peaceful and a place of refuge for me still.
In this series I explore these spaces and places, both real and imagined. I enjoy using a variety of methods and applications of oil paint to explore the emotion and story in these images. At first I fought this, as I built this series, but finally came to realize that this breadth was a crucial part of the story, not just the images themselves. Paintings of calm, when I build a painting from the sketch forward, and others that are raw, intuitive and sloppy. Paint speaks for me, my studio partner often laughs, as I start to speak back, enraptured in the color, brush strokes and story that is emerging.
The images themselves come from photos taken at my childhood home, others created from the memory in my hand of drawing over and over, and some are explorations of new trees my children now play in at their grandparents.
I love going for long walks in my town, often noticing a rope ladder, a few boards nailed to a tree, now covered with moss, left behind from a child that too has moved on from their treehouse to a home of their own. I am fascinated by the animation of trees, the shapes and lines, combined with the deep rooted meaning of this beauty we get to live with. There is a rope of continuity, that still binds us to these treehouses, which are place of refuge in our childhoods, before we have a home of our own.
Julie Jeanseau is an artist and teacher at Queen of Peace Catholic school and owner of The Abbey Art Center. She has been exploring art and creativity since she started nailing boards in trees and building mud pies. Her painting began in earnest with the encouragement of her parents and with the help of Rob Bibler and Carol Hauser at Chemeketa, 25 years ago. She has paused at times as she has raised her three girls, but not that long as all three girls are becoming artists now in their own right.
Childhood can be a beautiful time. Mine was, and I realize now how lucky I was. My childhood home along the Clackamas river with a forest in the backyard and big brother to hide in the trees with, was my safe place and refuge. Of course all things come to a close, change and shift and so reality filtered into my life through school, a learning disability and family pain. The world beyond my gate was confusing, difficult to understand and left me wondering how to function. The world in the forest is calm, peaceful and a place of refuge for me still.
In this series I explore these spaces and places, both real and imagined. I enjoy using a variety of methods and applications of oil paint to explore the emotion and story in these images. At first I fought this, as I built this series, but finally came to realize that this breadth was a crucial part of the story, not just the images themselves. Paintings of calm, when I build a painting from the sketch forward, and others that are raw, intuitive and sloppy. Paint speaks for me, my studio partner often laughs, as I start to speak back, enraptured in the color, brush strokes and story that is emerging.
The images themselves come from photos taken at my childhood home, others created from the memory in my hand of drawing over and over, and some are explorations of new trees my children now play in at their grandparents.
I love going for long walks in my town, often noticing a rope ladder, a few boards nailed to a tree, now covered with moss, left behind from a child that too has moved on from their treehouse to a home of their own. I am fascinated by the animation of trees, the shapes and lines, combined with the deep rooted meaning of this beauty we get to live with. There is a rope of continuity, that still binds us to these treehouses, which are place of refuge in our childhoods, before we have a home of our own.
Julie Jeanseau is an artist and teacher at Queen of Peace Catholic school and owner of The Abbey Art Center. She has been exploring art and creativity since she started nailing boards in trees and building mud pies. Her painting began in earnest with the encouragement of her parents and with the help of Rob Bibler and Carol Hauser at Chemeketa, 25 years ago. She has paused at times as she has raised her three girls, but not that long as all three girls are becoming artists now in their own right.
