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Jennifer's "Untitled" piece appears to be a landscape with a colorful stripped form arising out of the grasses. It is an iconic image that she incorporates into her work. The following excerpt from her Artist Statement best describes her feeling about it: I stopped the slug imagery and started making purely abstract paintings. Eventually, abstract lines and forms evolved into “characters.” They lived in landscapes of a realistic sort. They were abstractions on a representational journey. It occurred to me that they were the slugs. I thought they had gone but they hadn’t. It occurred to me that they were the slugs. I thought they had gone but they hadn’t. They were the slugs transformed. Evolved slugs and broken out from their cocoons. They had become abstract “butterflies.”
Jennifer Wynne Reeves was known for creating a body of paintings, drawings and photographs that speak to and confront formalist and humanist dilemmas. Beyond her achievements in the art world, Reeves enjoyed a considerable fan-base as a result of her astonishing Facebook presence where she chronicled and interwove her art and diaristic prose.
Reeves solo exhibitions included Art & Public in Geneva, Gian Enzo Sperone in Rome; Max Protetch, Ramis Barquet and BravinLee programs, NYC. Reeves was also celebrated for her writing. She produced a graphic novel, The Anyway Ember and Soul Bolt, a book of images and prose. “Profoundly rewarding works” said LA Times writer, David Pagel, in a review her 2015 exhibition at CB1 Gallery. Reeves is a John Simon Guggenheim Fellow recipient.
The following is an artist’s statement about her theory off work:
“Twenty years ago, I called them slugs. In the beginning, they were like long lumps without arms or legs. Powerless. Difficult. Paralyzed. I thought maybe they were the symbols of sloth or depression or fear. They didn’t do anything. I wondered if I should stop making them? They were not beautiful. Nobody liked them. Nobody wanted to look at them. They were repellent and, worse, they were funny. I hated that. I wanted to be a “serious” artist. I was conflicted. I had to make the images that came to me but I was embarrassed. Maybe it wasn’t a fancy path but painting slugs was more honest than painting flowers (nothing against flower paintings, mind you). It came down to a moral choice. So, I determined to follow the slug road. Maybe it was a road that led somewhere? Or maybe not.
After several years, I thought I hit a dead-end. I stopped the slug imagery and started making purely abstract paintings. Eventually, abstract lines and forms evolved into “characters.” They lived in landscapes of a realistic sort. They were abstractions on a representational journey. It occurred to me that they were the slugs. I thought they had gone but they hadn’t. It occurred to me that they were the slugs. I thought they had gone but they hadn’t. They were the slugs transformed. Evolved slugs and broken out from their cocoons. They had become abstract “butterflies.” Little kids liked them. I hated that. I wanted to be a “serious” artist. I’m not sure, exactly, who they are. They could be our conscience, our psychology, or simply the part inside us that yearns. They could be artists, modernists or the first of “us” that crawled out of the ocean. My best hunch is they are whatever it is that makes us want to make. I hope that’s a good thing and beautiful and seriously funny. Whatever the case, I’d like to know what it’s all about.” Jennifer Reeves, 2007-2008
Jennifer received her BA in 1985 from Principia College Elsah, Illinois. She attended Vermont Studio School in 1984, in Johnson, Vermont under the instructor Archie Rand, Al Blaustein and Ron Gorchev and visiting teachers: Janet Fish, James Rosali, Nell Blaine and Alice Neel.
Jennifer Wynne Reeves filled a void in the art world when she started posting on Facebook in 2008. Pairing images of her paintings with extraordinary prose, Reeves unwittingly transformed her page into a virtual salon with 5000 friends. A mentor, a provocateur, and a muse, Reeves inspired thoughtful sometimes heated debates about the state of the art world. She chided the art critics for their provincialism, paid little reverence to sacred art cows and freely shared her ideas and techniques with other artists. Reeves mined the images she posted on Facebook from thirty prolific years of painting. Multi-layered, textural, abstract and representational, Reeves’ work invites the viewer to look beneath the surface, just as her prose challenges entrenched beliefs and opinions.
An excerpts from Facebook:
April 27, 2011
Picasso didn’t paint his lovers. He painted his perception of his lovers, no, not quite. He painted love itself. He painted different types of love. Sex-love, Mother-love, Sad-love, Tortured-love, Peace-love, Aging-love, Penis-love but, but not divine Love. That was Matisse’s area and maybe why he was so drawn to him and vice versa. Still, I think there’s something divine about his line, anyway. Okay, I take that back. He did paint divine Love. It’s in the guitars, the love of art. I know he was a self-professed atheist. He refused to go to Matisse’s chapel but years after Matisse died he did go. The receptionist gave him an envelope. It was a letter from Matisse. It said something like, ‘I knew you believed.’ Those two men, those two artists, had a rapport. It didn’t matter what side they were on, what name they used for love, God or not. It didn’t matter. That’s what art can do. That’s why I put my love there and I suspect I’m not the only one.
November 17, 2012
I start to paint. I squeeze out lumps on the palette. One little blob speaks to me. He seems to say, “I am the sun. You revolve around me.” I swipe at him with my brush and lay a piece of him on the canvas. I say, “I am the sun. You revolve around ME!” And so the conversation goes until the end of the piece when the paint is silenced and the silence is golden. I think that every successful work shows that matter is but shadow and, despite all the talk to the contrary, we do not have to kowtow to shadows. We are greater than we know. We are queens, chiefs, masters, the artists of our own destiny. I enter this great studio called life and find that I am one with Soul-fire, the central light of being. And I paint to serve Her great hush.
Unframed the piece measures: 16h x 28w