"...one cannot bathe twice in the same river
because already, in her inmost recesses, the
human being shares the destiny of flowing
water ... a being dedicated to water is a being
in flux. She dies every minute; something of her
substance is constantly falling away."
~Gaston Bachelard, Water and Dreams
because already, in her inmost recesses, the
human being shares the destiny of flowing
water ... a being dedicated to water is a being
in flux. She dies every minute; something of her
substance is constantly falling away."
~Gaston Bachelard, Water and Dreams
Jayne Marie Ollin
b. 1.9.1956 Philadelphia Pennsylvania
bloodlines and taproots
I have lived primarily in Vermont since 1980, but, in my heart, SE Pa., will always be my first home. There is something about the land, the people, the city, the history that is in my blood, and it's just an hour or so to the ocean. My partner and I often dream of moving back, but admittedly, we are among the flocks of climate refugees now, having witnessed the impacts of global warming first hand, wintering at the southern tip of NJ the last 16 years. Flooding is the new normal, along with extreme heat, seawater infiltrating wells along the coast. The rational choice, to nurture the roots we put down in New England 40 years ago. Which means regular visits to our second favorite place, the coast of Maine, which also feels like home. As to my work, it reflects everywhere that I have lived, studied, struggled to make ends meet, and also, the struggles of the world that I can't tune out, but can find some peace when I can make a painting about it.
It's just my opinion, but I believe Art is no different than astrology, or philosophy, or religion, or even science for that matter. Whatever we say about it, or about the artist, will always be partially true, and the rest subjective at best. Long before we get to college, who we are and why we make art or invent things, or try to heal people, has already been pretty much determined. Kindergarten was my first art school, but I had already, at the age of four, been known as an artist to my family, because if there was a pencil within reach I'd be drawing on something. And, I was practical about it. Spit was the most accessible medium for pigment. My first abstract was created in kindergarten class; Nixon and Kennedy portraits in "red and blue." Colored pencils distributed for some academic lesson transformed into a painting. Ms. Valentine's (kindergarten teacher) pleasant surprise, only added to my developing artist ego. I may have invented the first water color pencils...
water and spirit
Water finds its own way, often in spite of our efforts to control it. It has always been my teacher; alluring and demanding. Mediums that require water challenge me to reconcile my human need to be in control simultaneous to my need for spontaneity and experimentation. When I can manage that dynamic there is a symbiotic relationship that culminates in nothing short of a birth; an image with agency and identity, a new Self outside my self. Even when the image fails to participate, or I lack the skill to negotiate, the act of painting alone brings me to a rare sense of peace. It is where time stands still and the problems of the world, or my world, cease to exist. At the same time, I paint to resolve the violence and hate around us, that painting somehow transforms that, as in the painting of the rose cross. The doom and gloom of the early days of covid, the anger that was spilling out of so many, the hoarding that took place. All I could do was reach for hues of violet, pink, golds and greens. It created itself; hope out of pain. The symbol of the rose cross one that is found in religions and cosmologies world wide.
I have worn many hats in my life. A few years after Art School/s I became a mother, and then, a single mother. Having to choose between full time painting and providing for my children financially, I channeled my creative energy into developing a line of herbal formulas, founding an herbal products company in rural Vermont, and a practice in holistic healing, homeopathy, Jungian Psychology/Humanistic Astrology. But children are natural artists, so studio time was always a priority, and when not in our corners, painting, there were the organic, traditional art forms inspired by holidays and the changing seasons. What at first felt like a fork in the road – making art or making money – was actually a merging of creative disciplines that fed each other, and my family. My daughter, Nakima Ollin, emerged at an early age, as a gifted artist and went on to surpass me by leaps and bounds in her sense of color, proportion, discipline and genius. And, became "known" at least for a time, in some places.
spirit and soul
Speaking more intimately: painters are aware of the importance of darkness, of shadows, along with light. For myself this speaks to an existential reality; unavoidable suffering takes place alongside happiness and joy. Embracing the essential relationship between suffering and joy, is, I believe what truly frees us from the prison of mediocrity; where only a lack of imagination keeps the door locked from the inside.
I learned in a humanities course that children whose curriculum's included art were profoundly more empathic than those who lacked that opportunity. I don’t recall the theory, but my guess would be that through creating we can connect with ourselves fully and intimately. And, through that connection, find love for ourselves in our extremes of shadows, of lightness, and therefore others.
A few words about one of my latest series, kiwi 1, 2, 3, and 4 (2022). I have never met a kiwi nor have I been to New Zealand. Supposedly flightless, she appeared through a collection of water molecules, between a double paned window in the attic of our winter home, at the southernmost tip of New Jersey. A point of land world renowned for its spring and fall migrations of birds and butterflies, making their way north or south. For myself, she is a reminder that although our days on earth are numbered, given climate change, droughts, fires, floods, habitat destruction and wars, and our own mortality, there are ancient truths and laws of existence that go far beyond the limits of linear time, of our conscious minds, where creative expression through imagination might be our saving grace, and lead us into new dimensions of thought.
b. 1.9.1956 Philadelphia Pennsylvania
bloodlines and taproots
I have lived primarily in Vermont since 1980, but, in my heart, SE Pa., will always be my first home. There is something about the land, the people, the city, the history that is in my blood, and it's just an hour or so to the ocean. My partner and I often dream of moving back, but admittedly, we are among the flocks of climate refugees now, having witnessed the impacts of global warming first hand, wintering at the southern tip of NJ the last 16 years. Flooding is the new normal, along with extreme heat, seawater infiltrating wells along the coast. The rational choice, to nurture the roots we put down in New England 40 years ago. Which means regular visits to our second favorite place, the coast of Maine, which also feels like home. As to my work, it reflects everywhere that I have lived, studied, struggled to make ends meet, and also, the struggles of the world that I can't tune out, but can find some peace when I can make a painting about it.
It's just my opinion, but I believe Art is no different than astrology, or philosophy, or religion, or even science for that matter. Whatever we say about it, or about the artist, will always be partially true, and the rest subjective at best. Long before we get to college, who we are and why we make art or invent things, or try to heal people, has already been pretty much determined. Kindergarten was my first art school, but I had already, at the age of four, been known as an artist to my family, because if there was a pencil within reach I'd be drawing on something. And, I was practical about it. Spit was the most accessible medium for pigment. My first abstract was created in kindergarten class; Nixon and Kennedy portraits in "red and blue." Colored pencils distributed for some academic lesson transformed into a painting. Ms. Valentine's (kindergarten teacher) pleasant surprise, only added to my developing artist ego. I may have invented the first water color pencils...
water and spirit
Water finds its own way, often in spite of our efforts to control it. It has always been my teacher; alluring and demanding. Mediums that require water challenge me to reconcile my human need to be in control simultaneous to my need for spontaneity and experimentation. When I can manage that dynamic there is a symbiotic relationship that culminates in nothing short of a birth; an image with agency and identity, a new Self outside my self. Even when the image fails to participate, or I lack the skill to negotiate, the act of painting alone brings me to a rare sense of peace. It is where time stands still and the problems of the world, or my world, cease to exist. At the same time, I paint to resolve the violence and hate around us, that painting somehow transforms that, as in the painting of the rose cross. The doom and gloom of the early days of covid, the anger that was spilling out of so many, the hoarding that took place. All I could do was reach for hues of violet, pink, golds and greens. It created itself; hope out of pain. The symbol of the rose cross one that is found in religions and cosmologies world wide.
I have worn many hats in my life. A few years after Art School/s I became a mother, and then, a single mother. Having to choose between full time painting and providing for my children financially, I channeled my creative energy into developing a line of herbal formulas, founding an herbal products company in rural Vermont, and a practice in holistic healing, homeopathy, Jungian Psychology/Humanistic Astrology. But children are natural artists, so studio time was always a priority, and when not in our corners, painting, there were the organic, traditional art forms inspired by holidays and the changing seasons. What at first felt like a fork in the road – making art or making money – was actually a merging of creative disciplines that fed each other, and my family. My daughter, Nakima Ollin, emerged at an early age, as a gifted artist and went on to surpass me by leaps and bounds in her sense of color, proportion, discipline and genius. And, became "known" at least for a time, in some places.
spirit and soul
Speaking more intimately: painters are aware of the importance of darkness, of shadows, along with light. For myself this speaks to an existential reality; unavoidable suffering takes place alongside happiness and joy. Embracing the essential relationship between suffering and joy, is, I believe what truly frees us from the prison of mediocrity; where only a lack of imagination keeps the door locked from the inside.
I learned in a humanities course that children whose curriculum's included art were profoundly more empathic than those who lacked that opportunity. I don’t recall the theory, but my guess would be that through creating we can connect with ourselves fully and intimately. And, through that connection, find love for ourselves in our extremes of shadows, of lightness, and therefore others.
A few words about one of my latest series, kiwi 1, 2, 3, and 4 (2022). I have never met a kiwi nor have I been to New Zealand. Supposedly flightless, she appeared through a collection of water molecules, between a double paned window in the attic of our winter home, at the southernmost tip of New Jersey. A point of land world renowned for its spring and fall migrations of birds and butterflies, making their way north or south. For myself, she is a reminder that although our days on earth are numbered, given climate change, droughts, fires, floods, habitat destruction and wars, and our own mortality, there are ancient truths and laws of existence that go far beyond the limits of linear time, of our conscious minds, where creative expression through imagination might be our saving grace, and lead us into new dimensions of thought.
