Fine Art Archive
Artist Statement
My Work is about the past, our past, a record of our secrets, a ledger drawing of our story. My work is about finding this connection in things overlooked, things taken for granted. I am interested in the idea or the knowledge that what we do and who we are never really goes unseen. Our secrets are kept by the things that surround us, even those most private, some fresh and easily read, some buried, some translated into a language we no longer understand, all of them kept and waiting for a time when we will need and want to know. These works are my attempt to honor this business of secret keeping. And telling. They are my attempt to listen, to pay attention. They are my attempt to understand the secrets and the history between us.
My Work is about the past, our past, a record of our secrets, a ledger drawing of our story. My work is about finding this connection in things overlooked, things taken for granted. I am interested in the idea or the knowledge that what we do and who we are never really goes unseen. Our secrets are kept by the things that surround us, even those most private, some fresh and easily read, some buried, some translated into a language we no longer understand, all of them kept and waiting for a time when we will need and want to know. These works are my attempt to honor this business of secret keeping. And telling. They are my attempt to listen, to pay attention. They are my attempt to understand the secrets and the history between us.
Homesick
Scar vessels, handmade rope, community offerings.
Jess McPherson and Donna Sylvester, 2012.
Handmade paper vessels gain new life combined with handmade grass ropes and community offerings. The rope, in the making, reaches and reconnects tangling and grasping tightly to living grasses. Paired and suspending vessels like husks, shells, bodies, the rope spins gently, caressing the dry ground, searching for connection.
Scar vessels, handmade rope, community offerings.
Jess McPherson and Donna Sylvester, 2012.
Handmade paper vessels gain new life combined with handmade grass ropes and community offerings. The rope, in the making, reaches and reconnects tangling and grasping tightly to living grasses. Paired and suspending vessels like husks, shells, bodies, the rope spins gently, caressing the dry ground, searching for connection.
The Altars
Site specific installations
(Seen here at lowercase gallery, Wrightsville, PA.)
Jess McPherson and Blanton Amspacher, 2011.
Pieces of home, of loved ones, and strangers, laid and con constructed in reference to ceremonies translated through generations, provide space to contemplate and offer reverence to lives lived, known and unknown, understood and in mystery.
Site specific installations
(Seen here at lowercase gallery, Wrightsville, PA.)
Jess McPherson and Blanton Amspacher, 2011.
Pieces of home, of loved ones, and strangers, laid and con constructed in reference to ceremonies translated through generations, provide space to contemplate and offer reverence to lives lived, known and unknown, understood and in mystery.
Portal with Ghosts 1 and 2
Ceramic, sinew and coal.
Jess McPherson and Donna Sylvester, 2011.
A cross section, a portal, a snapshot of damaged works, passing through our plane at a point on their path. Fragments of work becoming new life, observed by past iterations. Shards spin and tremble gently suspended in this moment.
Ceramic, sinew and coal.
Jess McPherson and Donna Sylvester, 2011.
A cross section, a portal, a snapshot of damaged works, passing through our plane at a point on their path. Fragments of work becoming new life, observed by past iterations. Shards spin and tremble gently suspended in this moment.
28 Memorials
Installation and detail views.
Graphite on paper, 2011.
By the time I was 30 years old, I had buried 30 of the most pivotal people who shaped my life. I created this piece to make sense of extreme loss. I set about carefully drawing graves, their stones meticulously laid. All honor given. I drew each one until one had to be left blank and had to be pristine white paper. And until someone asked a question that led me to an unexpected answer. An answer about my grief and my grieving. An answer that was so clear I stopped. Stopped carrying the stones. Stopped laying them down. Stopped reciting the names. Here, they are viewed partially scattered, plots missing, ends open; a memorial to a life sometimes stunted by the weight.
Installation and detail views.
Graphite on paper, 2011.
By the time I was 30 years old, I had buried 30 of the most pivotal people who shaped my life. I created this piece to make sense of extreme loss. I set about carefully drawing graves, their stones meticulously laid. All honor given. I drew each one until one had to be left blank and had to be pristine white paper. And until someone asked a question that led me to an unexpected answer. An answer about my grief and my grieving. An answer that was so clear I stopped. Stopped carrying the stones. Stopped laying them down. Stopped reciting the names. Here, they are viewed partially scattered, plots missing, ends open; a memorial to a life sometimes stunted by the weight.
Maybe Every Year is Year One, Maybe Every Point a Revolution
Ink on paper, 2007.
Year one. The first year after a revolution. Carefully placed and coded circles spiral out in a winter count of sorrow and joy, each point a new opportunity.
Ink on paper, 2007.
Year one. The first year after a revolution. Carefully placed and coded circles spiral out in a winter count of sorrow and joy, each point a new opportunity.
Women of Color
Jennifer Tilly, Pam Grier and Cher
Linocut, 2005.
Jennifer Tilly, Pam Grier and Cher
Linocut, 2005.
Even I Forget My Secrets
Mixed Media, 2005.
I'm interested in the idea that who we are and what we experience never really goes unseen. I believe that they are recorded in the life around us. But what happens when we've seen so many secrets and have no one to tell. Inspired by the beautiful lines recording blight in a familiar tree, language is obscured, references hidden, and maps made to places we no longer remember wait for someone to tell.
Mixed Media, 2005.
I'm interested in the idea that who we are and what we experience never really goes unseen. I believe that they are recorded in the life around us. But what happens when we've seen so many secrets and have no one to tell. Inspired by the beautiful lines recording blight in a familiar tree, language is obscured, references hidden, and maps made to places we no longer remember wait for someone to tell.
From the Ledger Drawings of Jessica Marie, No.s 1-12
Monotype, 2004-2005.
Monotype, 2004-2005.
National Brand Eye Ease
l to r: Frank, Buffy, Pueblo, Cher
Monoprints, 2004.
l to r: Frank, Buffy, Pueblo, Cher
Monoprints, 2004.
Untitled
Mixed media, 2004.
Mixed media, 2004.
What We Take and What We Leave
Amy and I
Amy and the Things We Don't Say
Amy and the Carts
Amy and the Greatest Sound I've Ever Heard
Charcoal and chalk on paper, 2003.
Amy and I
Amy and the Things We Don't Say
Amy and the Carts
Amy and the Greatest Sound I've Ever Heard
Charcoal and chalk on paper, 2003.
Thanks for looking at this old work. I think it adds a through line of the continual exploration of common themes throughout my professional career. I hope you found something interesting to connect with in my work.
Salt Study, 2004.
All works copyright Jess McPherson, 2003-2014.
Copyright Jess McPherson, 2024