TWO-DIMENSIONAL WORKS
As a conceptual artist; my canvas takes whatever form necessary for a given direction; whether this is wood, a mannequin, a body or a traditional stretched cloth. Although my preference is oil paint; I never stop experimenting with new mediums, from candle wax and roofing tar, to various adhesives and clay. I have studied and painted in both the traditional classic style of the old masters and the art of abstraction, however my niche has turned out to be a combination of both, frequently with an element of photography and/or performance. I do not hide the fact that these initial layers are often photographs, as wielding my camera and the initial composition is an art form in and of itself. Mimicking reality takes great skill, but the artist’s job is to do much more than this. The expression is in the rendering over of this initial photograph, sometimes completely, with thick layers of paint, ink, pastel and other media that an image is brought to life. Even the old masters used to have the apprentices paint the initial layers of a piece, knowing that the expression and content were in the final stages and rendering of a given work of art.
This being said, it was essential for myself that I learn to paint in the traditional method, but this painstaking process is not my natural bent or inclination. The freedom to risk everything, to destroy or to slowly build is lost if I have spent endless hours rendering the initial image. While I appreciate the value in sticking to traditional methods; the art world also needs those who wield every possible tool available. We build on the knowledge of those who came before, but we discover by embracing what is new.
JENNIFER PETERS
She Has No Eyes
Performance, Oil Paint, Octane, India Ink, Oil & Chalk Pastel on Photo
60 H x 40 W In.
PROPERTY of the Grand Theatre
‘She Has No Eyes’ was the feature piece for my first solo exhibition at New Edward Gallery back in 2017. This mixed media montage was birthed in the studio as a performance by the artist. Embracing the female figure as a source of strength, rather than shame is a pervasive concept within Jennifer’s performance both in and out of the studio. Too often within Christian settings, the body is set aside as something to be hidden, ignored, dismissed - the vagina, the penis - these are unmentionable aspects of the human body. This is not a healthy perspective as God created us as sexual, visceral, vibrant beings; the body, mind and spirit should live in harmony rather than as separate entities. It is this fear, this pervasive shame surrounding our sexuality that breeds so much sexual deviancy within the church and without.
In this particular piece, Jennifer steps boldly into the light, her features marred only by her capacity to see herself as she really is .. strong, competent, capable, intelligent. To sit comfortably within these facts was an immense struggle, as the labels thrust upon her as a female were just the opposite, deep knives within the psyche. I created a piece featured within my slideshow where I wrote all the labels I had received or taken on as a child, as a young woman upon my torso. These labels did nothing but distort my perceptions and thwart my capacity to grow. This is the unseen harm of verbal abuse; all the praise, beauty and encouragement in the world are poured into the wounded heart, but the individual cannot retain it, as the love continually leaks out the holes gouged deeply into the heart. These wounds need to be acknowledged and addressed in order to find healing. It is not ego, but a generosity of spirit that enables women to embrace their full potential.
Gallery
My son Anthony Osprey died suddenly while I was nursing him in the woods near Castle River Bridge. He died on July second, 2018. His body went still, His face turned white and it was all over in a moment, a single trickle of blood streaming slowly out of his right nostril. My darling boy died right there in the woods and no amount of resuscitation would bring him back. As a mother, I was forced to make the agonizing call to halt the effort to save my boy, who had by that point been without oxygen for approximately forty five minutes. Putting down his lifeless body was not possible; I rocked him back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, seeking to quell the shrieking storm within my chest, to comfort the baby that was no longer there. He was so innocent, so beautiful, so precious - I suppose it is only fitting that my Jesus called him home, but my soul still screamed blood on that day.