The subconscious is like a basement; one in which the lights don’t work. Where one bangs the shins on unseen obstacles while groping around for direction, and steps in puddles of unknown and gets spider webs in the hair. And something crawly down the back of the shirt. It’s a sort of mad scientist’s lab, where parts of this and that are stitched together, while music and chattering of voices goes on in the background, invariably affecting the outcome of the final creature. The creature in this case happens to be a painting, but could be an opinion about race, a fondness for another person or a national security policy.
These paintings are a synthesis of psychology and biology, the result of a lifetime of fascination with the natural world filtered through my subconscious: through my emotions, experiences, thought processes and philosophical leanings. They are visual manifestations of what I feel inside my private self. At the same time they are a paean to human curiosity and the need to explore, investigate and communicate our observations.
Jennifer Cox has deep roots in the mountains of southwest Virginia, where her family has lived for generations. Cox spent her childhood buried in a book, engrossed in a drawing or exploring the Virginia woods. Moving to Richmond to attend art school was a culture shock, as was a sojourn in Vermont for further study. Cox returned to Richmond to raise her daughter, participate in the city’s arts community and continue to paint. But the opportunity to buy a small farm in Rockbridge County Virginia offered a return to the mountains, where she now lives and works in (mostly) splendid isolation. See more of Jennifer’s work at her website.