Hello from my last week in Chicago! And a special welcome to my recent followers - finding me even as I’ve been away from my Oregon studio for these past six weeks of summer.

(If you aren’t entirely sure where you’ve landed, feel free to find more about me and my art practice on my website: JenniferLommers.com)

Thank you to everyone for being here and supporting my practice!

I’m excited to be back to share where my art practice is taking me. As many of you know, this summer I decided to commit myself to trying new ideas within an academic setting. At the same time, I continue to pursue existing art projects for upcoming shows and online events (in an attempt to continue funding my existence within an MFA program - so yes, please come if you can and buy my art if it speaks to you!)

As I entered the School of Art Institute Chicago (SAIC) low-residency MFA program, I was thinking of my practice as something existing in two different realms - one commercial (art made for sale), and the other conceptual (and not made for the purpose of selling). In fact, the new work is specifically planned to not exist as physical objects once their essence is captured. It is meant to return to the earth and become a memory of a thing instead of the thing itself.

However, a question was recently posed to me around whether I can consider my art more holistically. What if the tenets around my work exist as a thread that wraps around my entire practice. What would it look like for me to talk about my art in a new singular yet dimensional way? And bonus - maybe I can use this artifact of these thoughts (aka this Substack post) to fulfill my Professional Practices assignment of “Narrating Your Work Digitally.”

Part I - The Fragments

For years, I’ve primarily considered myself a painter (as is evidenced in the following website portfolios).

But this identity is no longer complete. I work with fiber and paper to sculpt; I document material and relationships through photography and film; I collect vintage items and research history of ephemera and familial relationships; I investigate materiality, memory, and connections to and within a larger biosphere. I not only create layers and patterns with the swipe of a brush, but the pressure of a collagraph plate, the molding of paper pulp and fiber, the mark of charcoal or thread, the edit of a digital pen. I write. I make. I write again. I look back and forward. But to understand my art practice, I need to see it as it is right now - a love letter to what it means to exist in a moment in time and space. To become the thing memory takes and the future aspires to be.

I imagine if I take all the pieces of what was, each found and formed fragment, and bind them together within the folds of fibers made to exist as a gathering place, and hide each image within the foliage and landscape of an earth ready to accept their return, then maybe I will find a way to hold all these thoughts together simultaneously.

Part II - The Threads

Material and Process

In taking steps to view the entirety of my work as a whole, and less so as individual parts, I imagine how materials and process hold my practice together. “I collect… displaced remnants of human life to shape and inform my art…. Fiber practices provide stability. Rocks and buttons are collected as memories. Bones and pins provide structure. Fabric is kneaded like dough with threads stitched, wrapped, and left untethered as a symbol of a heart remembering to beat.”1

Personal Narrative

I also create through the lens of personal history (learning to sew as a child and embracing fiber practices such as knitting as an adult), generational history (familial traits, traditions, and memories, preserved and forgotten), and mindful practices (walking on the earth with attention and gratitude). Each layer of material serves to remember, accept, and hold space for thoughts and dreams weaving in and out of landscapes and botanical offerings creating a personal narrative around love and loss.

Mindfulness

My art practice often takes on a therapeutic role. I enjoy the tactile nature of paper, fiber, and thread in my hands; the buttery feel of paint on a canvas; the impulse to tear, cut, and glue or sew back together. Finding ways to bend and play with the rules of material feels strangely rewarding and, much like with my knitting practice, brings me into the present moment in the rhythms and rituals of creating. Intentionally displaying unfinished edges, lines of thread, and means of construction provides an interior view of a mind’s machinations and a state of vulnerability - sometimes offered by chance and other times by choice in a grand gesture of transparency to those willing to accept the viewing and share in this mindful practice.

Part III - A Holistic Artist Statement

Which leads me to one final grand gesture - my revised artist statement (in its entirety, below), from which I’ve pulled a few phrases to finish with this short poem.

What is not broken cannot be whole
fragmentation...fissures...folds
perils of memory...materiality and impermanence
a heart remembering to beat
uncertain narratives belying trust
longing to be captured in lore
mark the passing of each day

And in remembrance of the passing of 100 days in 2025 marked with a daily botanical drawing…

I look forward to sharing more summer thoughts and art with you as I prepare for upcoming shows. In the meantime, to many more days of mark making!

~ Jennifer

I am surrounded
by pebbles who know not what
mountain to call home.

Hello art friends,

As I prepare to take a 6-week summer break to study in Chicago, I thought I’d share this short poem from 2021 with you today, which I think pairs nicely with my rainbow-themed landscape.

It was written at a time, not unlike today. A time of uncertainty in an unpredictable future held by unpredictable people without the communal ties that inform the best parts of humanity - the hope in making a better future, a commitment to equity and the lifting of hearts and opening of minds, space for difference amidst acknowledgment of universal human truths, care and love for each other and for the planet and all that she holds.

May we come together and rebuild a better world. May we form a new, more resilient mountain of the lost and beautiful, unique pebbles all around us and call it home; call it New Earth.

See you again soon,

~ Jennifer

As an artist who has historically relied on color as an active participant in my paintings, I’m especially surprised by my recent move to a more monochromatic palette, such as the two pieces below, now showing at The Schack Art Center in Everett, WA, as part of their Juried Exhibition: Present Tense.

While this new palette matched my intent to “…find lightness in the dark,” it also felt very foreign to me, decades apart from my first life drawing class with only charcoal and newsprint at my disposal.

I’m intrigued by the book Chromophobia, which I’m currently reading as a part of my studio practice. I was first introduced to passages from this book last summer, which honestly befuddled me. It took me until now to finally dig into it and try to understand its assertions on historical and modern fears and love of color (Chromophobia and Chromophilia). It’s certainly interesting thus far and full of supporting context from artists and art critics to authors, poets, and filmmakers, too. There’s plenty of history to pore over, but I’ll let you know next month if it reveals any hidden personal motives underpinning my new art. Until then, I’ll just keep creating! And reading!

In pondering the seemingly opposing palettes of my recent versus earlier work, though, I also struck upon a happy accident by digitally combining the two - hence, the creation of “A Mountain Stream” (pictured above). I’m looking forward to playing with more combinations as time allows.

As for the rest of my month…

May in Photos

1. Art from the “one staple” collage challenge shared on CollageO

2. The latest “Unforgotten” larger work-in-progress

3. Detail of the little bird skeleton hidden within

4. Daily walks often lead me to the neighborhood pond where I can watch the progression of two families of geese.

5. My favorite latest image capture of a downed tree - hoping to make it a last-minute addition to my “Book of Inspirations” somewhere.

6. I finished knitting a new “wedding wrap” by designer Chantal Miyagishima just in time for my son’s wedding in Colorado!

7. Drove 2 pieces to Everett, WA, for hanging with the Present Tense show at the Schack Art Center.

8. Finally finished this Poppy painted collage, “Remembrance.”

9. Found a lovely little foxglove on a forest walk.

And that’s it for now - the last monthly studio update until August, when I’ll share what my studio practice for six weeks in Chicago looks like!

Until then, thank you for joining me here and for all your support in my new graduate school adventures!

~ Jennifer

An Artist’s Notes in 2026

When I started this little writing experiment in 2020, I never imagined I’d still be here six years later. While it’s been fairly irregular and unstructured most of this time (despite various attempts to corral my notes into something more directed), I’m starting this year with a few parameters to focus my efforts.

What can you expect going forward?

• Look for monthly studio updates (e.g. today’s note) as a means to share the art I’m making and the scope of what an art career may look like. This will just be a little walk-through of photos I’ve captured as I go about my artist life.

• Regular “Devotions” as a means to find moments of peace and creativity throughout the year (currently showing up as photographic journal notes such as “A Walk in the Woods”, but may take other forms over the course of the year.)

• Occasional Excerpts from writing and poetry projects to keep myself accountable (aka on schedule) as well as share this other creative novice side of myself. (Some excerpts will be short quotes from my current writing projects, and some may be longer and include a portion of my writing - such as the original poem in “Time Waits for No One”)

• Periodic Reflections on life as an artist. These posts often take the most energy for me to produce and evolve over time before finally being published. They are also where I want to learn and grow the most, seeking out more opportunities to articulate my practice in a meaningful way, to look critically at the plethora of media thrown at us, and to sort through how that shapes a creative process. With that in mind, they will show up when they are ready, I’m able, and hopefully be more in-depth and meaningful to my readers over time.

My hope is that a little structure will enable me to continue posting with the honesty and openness I’m trying to offer, while keeping me from posting paralysis (when my writing insecurities take hold and I leave a string of unpublished posts unread).

I also hope that providing a better idea of what I’m offering in this space will make a subscription more worthwhile and reliable for anyone considering such. I have a lot of unknowns in my future, but wherever tomorrow takes me, I hope to keep writing and sharing my experiences as an artist with you.

I don’t know about you, but I feel like the tides are starting to turn, and there’s a real interest in the physical doing of things and finding ways of being the most human we can be. Maybe it’s the recent AI backlash - booing pro-AI graduation speeches1 and protests against AI data centers2; or the compounding evidence about the cognitive benefits of physically writing3; or the trending switch among young people4 - going from “smart” phones to “dumb” phones to take greater control over their time, energy, and mental health.

For myself, I know I prefer writing appointments and schedules in a physical calendar; writing physical “thank you” notes instead of emailing; reading a physical book instead of a screen - but I also appreciate the conveniences of quickly obtaining information (although I’d rather go to direct sources than have an AI summary trying to spoon feed me whatever it found), typing up easily editable notes (as I’m doing here), and having reminders set on my phone to make sure I get to appointments and remember important events. I also enjoy listening to books on walks, while knitting, or doing chores (yes, I count that as “reading” in my Storygraph account5). So, I admit, I won’t hang up all the conveniences for a fully unplugged life.

Still, I appreciate everything I gain when I choose to complete a task physically and deliberately. And I appreciate the generous response of anyone who chooses to do the same, giving me the joy of reading the thoughts of another human in the most direct and meaningful way possible - in a postcard or letter - with bonus points for interesting stamps!

If you like to collect stamps, my latest post might interest you…

Collage O

Collage Prompt: Collections

Happy Collage Friday…

Read more

3 months ago · 1 like · 1 comment · Jennifer Lommers

We were sold a view of the world that valued immediacy over craft, now over later.

What used to be a commonplace societal activity (letter-writing) has turned into a rarity these days. I understand. We were sold a view of the world that valued immediacy over craft, now over later. We responded with greater urgency and intrigue about what technology could bring. In the process, we forgot how human the act of making art - drawing, acting, playing an instrument, and writing - holding pen and paper - could make us feel. The physicality and patience required connect us in ways that an online world rejects. And it literally lights up our brain!

And so I continue to make analog choices whenever it makes sense (and even sometimes when it doesn’t - Yes, I just ordered 100 newsletters professionally printed on recycled paper so that I can send them in the mail and hand them out instead of offering them online6)

While I do use my iPad to “write” with a stylus for much of my mailed newsletter, I also handwrite a short note to every recipient, and was pleased to receive a request from Ellington Pens to review one of their writing tools - how fun is that?!

Ellington Pens - Fountain Pen Review

Admittedly, my prior writing tools were generally acquired for art projects, from hotels and businesses, or via leftover school supplies from my kids. My nicest pen was an Ooly (pictured below, center), which had rather thin ink, and it would dry out too quickly for my irregular writing schedule. The Manuscript Pen (left) I rarely use (the tip was too wide for my liking), the Koh-I-Noor Radiograph pen is a specialized drafting pen I use for my reverse glass painting, the Manuscript Fineliner Pen (in blue) is okay when I want a felt tip (which I don’t like for letter writing), and the dip pen (far right) is used mostly with inks appropriate for adding thin lines to my artwork.

It may come as no surprise, then, that I love the feel, weight, and smoothness of writing with the new Ellington pen.

My Ellington Scarlet fountain pen arrived quickly and in an elegant box with three ink cartridges. Scanning the QR code took me to a Facebook link (which I don’t generally use), but I easily found the video instructions for assembling my pen on their website.

I chose a “fine” pen nib, but I feel like I could’ve gone down one size for my letter writing. Still, I think it suits my writing style.

While I’m not generally a connoisseur of all the finer pens available to avid letter writers, the Ellington pen has opened my eyes to what a quality writing tool can feel like - and makes me even more likely to choose a handwritten note over an email! They have many beautiful styles and colors too. Feel free to check them out HERE. (Full disclosure - I received a free pen for my willingness to honestly review their product. I do not receive any commission for purchases through their product links.)

Reclaiming an analog life

Other than letter-writing, though, how else will I choose analog over digital?

• compiling a timeline of historical events that interest me in an accordion book

• editing my current book projects (a historical novel-in-progress and my “Book of Inspirations” due out in August) via a printed copy (albeit my first drafts were typed)

• keeping a journal of favorite quotes

• keeping a journal of favorite poems

• continuing to keep up a physical planner

• weekly analog collaging

• wearing a watch

• printing photos to have and share

• graduate school note-taking!

Do you have a favorite analog tool, project, or plan? I’d love to hear what trends you’re noticing or what analog ideas you have!

To being our most human selves,

Jennifer

To all the lovely humans who take on the responsibility of motherhood, may you find joy on this day. Whether it’s reflecting on memories, planting new flowers in your garden, spending time with a loved one, a day at the cinema, or reading your favorite book — I hope you find a way to celebrate yourself and the time and dedication you put into the world.

Happy Mother’s Day,

Jennifer

I finally finished “Hummingbird Garden No. 2” this past month, and I was so excited to finally hand it over to the new owner who commissioned it last Fall.

(My reverse glass paintings are the only commissions I’m currently accepting.)

If you are not familiar with the process of reverse glass painting, these pieces follow a unique series of “sight unseen” steps to come to the final painting, revealed when flipped over.

(You can read more about the process in “Process Keeping Passion Alive”)

Here is the piece from the back before and after it was fully coated in silver paint (flipping this over reveals the completed painting above).

I enjoyed painting this piece so much that I’m planning another unique variation of this composition, which I hope to share in next month’s studio notes!

Watch for new oil paintings coming in May!

April was also the month that artists in Corvallis opened their studios to share their process and art. I was honored to be hosted by artist Avie Meadows in her lovely studio space during the Northside Open Studios Tour, and doubly honored by the consistent stream of people who stopped in to chat about our art!

Avie shared some exciting new work in process over the weekend, too, which I look forward to seeing evolve. For now, you can see a beloved selection of her previous work on her website, AvieMeadows.com

As for the rest of my month, I spent most of my time preparing for the studio tour and taking time to quiet the mind with hikes as I mulled over this precious and privileged existence in a precarious world. More practically, in between these moments, I managed to get various tasks done and also enjoyed quality time with family, including a weekend of beginner basket-making!

April in Photos

1. Fawn lilies in the McDonald Forest (Corvalllis, OR)

2. Framing up small works for the studio tour

3. BIG mushrooms found by Cronemiller Lake (Corvallis, OR)

4. Basketmaking at Tarweed Folk School (Corvallis, OR)

5. Gelatin plate printing collage materials

6. Finishing collages with a layer of varnish and wax

7. Editing my forthcoming book “The Art of Inspiration”

8. Studio Spring cleaning!

9. And a visit to the University of Oregon to hear an incredible “lecture performance” by Art Historian Salar Mameni, author of Terracene: A Crude Aesthetics.

And that’s April - full of reflection, art, and the promise of Spring!

~ Jennifer

An Artist’s Notes in 2026

When I started this little writing experiment in 2020, I never imagined I’d still be here six years later. While it’s been fairly irregular and unstructured most of this time (despite various attempts to corral my notes into something more directed), I’m starting this year with a few parameters to focus my efforts.

What can you expect going forward?

• Look for monthly studio updates (e.g. today’s note) as a means to share the art I’m making and the scope of what an art career may look like. This will just be a little walk-through of photos I’ve captured as I go about my artist life.

• Regular “Devotions” as a means to find moments of peace and creativity throughout the year (currently showing up as photographic journal notes such as “A Walk in the Woods”, but may take other forms over the course of the year.)

• Occasional Excerpts from writing and poetry projects to keep myself accountable (aka on schedule) as well as share this other creative novice side of myself. (Some excerpts will be short quotes from my current writing projects, and some may be longer and include a portion of my writing - such as the original poem in “Time Waits for No One”)

• Periodic Reflections on life as an artist. These posts often take the most energy for me to produce and evolve over time before finally being published. They are also where I want to learn and grow the most, seeking out more opportunities to articulate my practice in a meaningful way, to look critically at the plethora of media thrown at us, and to sort through how that shapes a creative process. With that in mind, they will show up when they are ready, I’m able, and hopefully be more in-depth and meaningful to my readers over time.

My hope is that a little structure will enable me to continue posting with the honesty and openness I’m trying to offer, while keeping me from posting paralysis (when my writing insecurities take hold and I leave a string of unpublished posts unread).

I also hope that providing a better idea of what I’m offering in this space will make a subscription more worthwhile and reliable for anyone considering such. I have a lot of unknowns in my future (I’m looking at you, Grad School applications), but wherever tomorrow takes me, I hope to keep writing and sharing my experiences as an artist with you - as well as the occasional bonus art offered to my paying subscribers. (Sign-up as a paying subscriber by March 1 to receive the next offer).

BONUS - Sign up for quarterly analog mail updates

And no matter where you find/follow me, I’m now also offering a newsletter via mail (announced in my latest CollageO post).

“2026 - The Year of Analog Newsletters”

Inspired by literary friends and, in particular, an analog newsletter approach³ - I hope you will consider signing up to receive (free to US enrollees via US Mail) a quarterly newsletter/zine launching this year. For now, I expect to send four mailed updates in 2026. I may include a mini collage or two along the way (or maybe just a few collage tidbits to add to your collection)…

(Side note: I also offer paid versions of this effort in my Studio Store as Collage, Postcard, Sticker, and Notecard Clubs. If you are a member there, you don’t need to sign up here. I will include my analog newsletter within these subscriptions.)

Analog Newsletter Signup

As I worked on Unforgotten I, with its layers of historical and vintage materials, I knew I wanted to capture and quantify time, if possible. This first attempt (above) is a fraction of my intent, but it’s a start.

Given the stark contrast of the content and type of materials used against the botanical nature of the finished piece, I added text to the book to provide context.

I led with this introduction to the Unforgotten series taken from “Unforgotten”

I wanted to add more, and I struggled to find the right words until I finally succumbed to the Roman poet, Horace’s words…

[An aside.] I am fascinated by artist and movement manifestos and the effort, ideas, and confidence that go into these declarations, three of which I return to frequently: The Manifestos of the Dada Movement Artists, the Guerrilla Girls Guide to Behaving Badly, and the Rules for Creatives by Sister Corita Kent.

Art Manifestos

Tristan Tzara and the Dada Movement

…the Dada movement was born out of a reaction against nationalism and rationalism, which [the Dadaist] artists believed to have caused the First World War. Though the movement was far from coherent, its key figures [including Tristan Tzara] …produced highly political and irreverent works influenced by Cubism, Futurism, and Constructivism. ~ RoyalAcademy.org

“A work of art is never beautiful by decree, objectively, for everyone. Criticism is, therefore, useless; it only exists subjectively, for every individual, and without the slightest general characteristic… Do we make art in order to earn money and keep the dear bourgeoisie happy?.. Every group of artists has ended up at this bank, straddling various comets. Leaving the door open to the possibility of wallowing in comfort and food.” ~ The 2nd Dada Manifesto, Tristan Tzara, 1918 - ArtHistoryArchive.com

Guerrilla Girls Guide to Behaving Badly (and the Art of Behaving Badly)

a few of my favorite guideposts are collected below from a 2010 Commencement Speech at the School of Art in Chicago - transcripted segments provided by NashvilleFeministArt.Wordpress.com. Full speech is also available on SoundCloud.

…Be impatient. Don't wait for a stamp of approval from the system. Don’t wait around to be asked to dance. Claim your place. Put on your own shows, create your own companies, develop your own projects. To steal a phrase from the Dali Lama, “Be the change you want to see in the world." In other words, Be the artworld you want to take part in.

Be anonymous. You’d be surprised what comes out of your mouth when you’re wearing a gorilla mask. We started wearing them to protect our careers, but soon realized it was one of the secrets of our success. Anonymous free speech is protected by the First Amendment. So join that long line of anonymous masked avengers, like Robin Hood, Batman, and of course, Wonder Woman…

Lead a double life. Be a split personality. Be two, three, four, five artists in one body, like me. I’m an artist / activist / writer / graphic designer. Be a hybrid. Hybrids are so green.

Just do one thing. If it works, do another. If it doesn’t, try it another way. Over time, we promise you it will all add up to something effective and great. Don't be paralyzed because you can't do it all right away. Just keep on chipping away.

Don't make only FINE art. Make some cheap art that can be owned by everyone, like books and movies can…

Give collectors, curators, and museum directors tough love: (Bear with me, this is a long rant.) It’s a pity that public art museums have to compete with billionaire art investors to own significant artworks. And then depend on those investors to donate the works! It's outrageous that art by women and artists of color sold at auction bring 10-20% of the price of art by white males. It's unethical that wealthy art collectors who put lots of money in the art market can then become museum trustees, overseeing museums that in turn validate their investments. What a lousy way to write and preserve our history! If things continue like they’re going, a hundred years from now, many museums will be showing only the white male version of art history, with a few tokens thrown in. You need to keep that from happening. Make sure that museums cast a wider net and collect the real story of our culture. How can you deliver tough love to the art world? Demand ethical standards inside museums. No more insider trading. No more conflicts of interest! No more cookie cutter collections of Art That Costs The Most (Eli Broad, do you hear us?) While you’re at it, give some tough love to design and architecture, where women and people of color face a crushing glass ceiling. And finally, educators out there, don't teach a history constructed by corrupt institutions. Write your own…

Be a feminist. For decades the majority of art school graduates have been women. Your class is no exception. But after school, when you find a too-small number of women and people of color in your field, especially at the top, then you know there's got to be discrimination, conscious or unconscious, going on. Don't just put up with it, say something. We think its ridiculous that so many people who believe in the tenets of feminism have been brainwashed by negative stereotypes in the media and society and refuse to call themselves feminists. And guys, that means you, too. Time to man up, whether you're female, male, trans, etc. and speak up for women. Women's rights, civil rights, and gay, lesbian and trans rights are the great human rights movements of our time. There's still a long way to go.

And last, but not least, be a great ape. In 1917, Franz Kafka wrote a short story titled A Report to An Academy, in which an ape spoke about what it was like to be taken into captivity by a bunch of educated, intellectual types. The published story ends with the ape tamed and broken by the stultified academics. But in an earlier draft, Kafka tells a different story. The ape ends his report by instructing other apes NOT to allow themselves to be tamed. He says instead: "break the bars of your cages, bite a hole through them, squeeze through an opening…and ask yourself where do YOU want to go?” Make that YOUR ending, not the tamed and broken one…

Sister Corita Kent’s Rules for Creatives

A few of my favorite “10 Rules” (available at Corita.org), which I originally shared in “Aging into the Work”

Rule 1) Find a place you trust and then try trusting it for a while

Rule 4) Consider everything an experiment

Rule 6) Nothing is a mistake. There’s no win and no fail. There’s only make.

Rule 9) Be happy whenever you can manage it. Enjoy yourself. It’s lighter than you think.

Helpful Hints: Always be around. Come or go to everything. Always go to classes. Read anything you can get your hands on. Look at movies carefully, often. Save everything - it might come in handy later. There should be new rules next week.

Writing a Manifesto

I have been thinking if I have the impetus and forthrightness to create a personal artist manifesto. If I have the clear and delineated ideals needed to back up such a document. I appreciate an approach from interdisciplinary artist Renato Osoy (a Guatemalan-born artist and educator currently based in Montreal, Canada).

Writing Your Manifesto by Renato Osoy

One technique he uses is the “self-interview”. I am curious about this approach as it touches on another “Pigment Interview” exercise I completed last summer at a Pigment and Place workshop taught by Daniela Naomi Molnar, which I reference at the end of “Time and Place.”

Before attempting such a bold statement of artistic intent, however, I’ll continue to work from a smaller scale - series to series with unedited thoughts (or at least lightly edited), and hope Horace is right.

Final text in my “Unforgotten I, After” documentation

To each day thereafter,

Jennifer

Love is
chaos and order
a template for creation
temple of creation
loosely stitched
and
wrapped around
all the celestial wonders.

Love is
irreverent and boundless
and will not
submit
to only one notion
instead
it
dictates
the
universe

must


e x  p   a    n     d.

Universe Expanding by Jennifer Lommers
originally published in “Time and Place”

Unforgotten IV was created from a 2024 piece called Universe Expanding (link above). The new version required the destruction of one form to transform into another. Yet the poem seemed fitting for both, and so it remains. More information about this collage and its origins is available at CollageO

~ Jennifer

“Reclamation”, my most recent finished piece, is a continuation of my “Unforgotten” series, debuting at the Northside Open Studios Tour in Corvallis, Oregon, April 18 & 19. (If you are in the area, you can find me at Stop “A”).

I continue to be excited about the possibilities of this work, even as I make slow progress amid other studio (and life) activities…

March in Photos

1. “Reclamation” in process

2. Mini Botanical Collages in process

3. Enjoying a Spring walk, finding the Oregon Grape in bloom

4. Updating my website with prints from my earlier painting days

5. Honoring our dog, Denali, who passed away in mid-March after 14 years with us. (This is an older painting from her more energetic, youthful days, but it captures her spirit to the end)

6. Preparing more 5x7-inch collages for the studio tour, including this poppy

7. Continuing my pursuit of daily “devotions” to add to my upcoming Book of Inspirations due for print this summer, with this unusual forest find.

8. Image from a photoshoot of new work

9. A few hours on the coast to clear the mind and make arrangements for teaching a weekend collage workshop coming in September - can’t wait to share more!

And that’s March. It was a month of highs and lows, but I’m grateful for all the support around me—time with friends, family, and a few last Denali cuddles.

~ Jennifer

An Artist’s Notes in 2026

When I started this little writing experiment in 2020, I never imagined I’d still be here six years later. While it’s been fairly irregular and unstructured most of this time (despite various attempts to corral my notes into something more directed), I’m starting this year with a few parameters to focus my efforts.

What can you expect going forward?

• Look for monthly studio updates (e.g. today’s note) as a means to share the art I’m making and the scope of what an art career may look like. This will just be a little walk-through of photos I’ve captured as I go about my artist life.

• Regular “Devotions” as a means to find moments of peace and creativity throughout the year (currently showing up as photographic journal notes such as “A Walk in the Woods”, but may take other forms over the course of the year.)

• Occasional Excerpts from writing and poetry projects to keep myself accountable (aka on schedule) as well as share this other creative novice side of myself. (Some excerpts will be short quotes from my current writing projects, and some may be longer and include a portion of my writing - such as the original poem in “Time Waits for No One”)

• Periodic Reflections on life as an artist. These posts often take the most energy for me to produce and evolve over time before finally being published. They are also where I want to learn and grow the most, seeking out more opportunities to articulate my practice in a meaningful way, to look critically at the plethora of media thrown at us, and to sort through how that shapes a creative process. With that in mind, they will show up when they are ready, I’m able, and hopefully be more in-depth and meaningful to my readers over time.

My hope is that a little structure will enable me to continue posting with the honesty and openness I’m trying to offer, while keeping me from posting paralysis (when my writing insecurities take hold and I leave a string of unpublished posts unread).

I also hope that providing a better idea of what I’m offering in this space will make a subscription more worthwhile and reliable for anyone considering such. I have a lot of unknowns in my future (I’m looking at you, Grad School applications), but wherever tomorrow takes me, I hope to keep writing and sharing my experiences as an artist with you - as well as the occasional bonus art offered to my paying subscribers. (Sign-up as a paying subscriber by March 1 to receive the next offer).

BONUS - Sign up for quarterly analog mail updates

And no matter where you find/follow me, I’m now also offering a newsletter via mail (announced in my latest CollageO post).

“2026 - The Year of Analog Newsletters”

Inspired by literary friends and, in particular, an analog newsletter approach³ - I hope you will consider signing up to receive (free to US enrollees via US Mail) a quarterly newsletter/zine launching this year. For now, I expect to send four mailed updates in 2026. I may include a mini collage or two along the way (or maybe just a few collage tidbits to add to your collection)…

(Side note: I also offer paid versions of this effort in my Studio Store as Collage, Postcard, Sticker, and Notecard Clubs. If you are a member there, you don’t need to sign up here. I will include my analog newsletter within these subscriptions.)

Analog Newsletter Signup

November 2024 I started writing my first novel. 60K+ words later, I continue to edit and revise, mapping out plot lines, dates, and further developing characters as I go. Above is a short passage I especially like because it gave me a chance to research sheep breeds from the region where part of the story is set.

Badger-face sheep are an interesting Welsh breed, striped in black and white (or tan), with their left and right sides one color and the other running down their center. (You can read more about them and see their unusual coat at Badgerfacesheep.co.uk)

With a career as a visual artist, it’s a fascinating thing to inhabit this alternate universe I’ve built out of words on paper, to live with and embrace the people on the page, trying to understand all their flaws and curious connections to one another… and to me.

This started as an exercise to get to know my family history a little better (the art above is inspired by a photograph of my grandmother that I transferred onto printmaking paper) and to imagine my ancestors in the various villages and towns they lived in. What I’ve discovered along the way, though, is a curiosity that goes much deeper. In living with the characters I’ve created for the last 15 months, in their particular spaces and times, as their lives and histories intersect, I have become enamored with each of them. And I have unexpectedly found a joy in writing historical fiction as much as I enjoy reading it.

I have no formal training in writing, and especially not in this format, but I still find myself returning to this project week after week, even when it’s slow-going and far from where I want it to be. I’ve come this far. There’s no turning back now!

Thank you for indulging me as I occasionally share small bits here and there (probably not what a writer’s writer would do, but I’ll at least be wary of spoilers!). Know that it all may change by the time I’m done, and I only do so as one enamored with the fact that I’m doing something I’ve never done before and am enjoying the heck out of it. How fun is that?

Now to see if I can get my hands on some badger-faced skeins of wool!

To trying new things,

Jennifer

I have a book of poems
written in cursive,
not in a pretty way
like the letters I have from my Aunt,
or Grandmother.

The marks are utilitarian, but each
word is carefully chosen,
picked out of scribbled lines
on scraps of paper
lining my desktop
and floor,
the only evidence my effort affords
recollections from before.

I stack rocks on a beach
touched by shallow ripples of gray-blue.
A seal pokes his head out from under the water—  
a drive-by spectator 
offering a curious nod
before diving back underneath
in search of his next meal.

My one and only audience didn't wait
to hear if my words were clear
or provided comfort,
allowing hearts to beat together
one more time
with each passing wave.

Instead, he chases fish,
and I watch each word float
toward the momentarily disturbed surface.
Memories slowly sinking to meet him in another life.

I stand, no longer wanting to obstruct
the loss of language, the wave of grief,
of relief surging with each
toppled stone, once carefully placed.

The book, the pages, the poems,
belong now to the sea. The monster 
living in the deep.

I watch,
I wait,
on the shore, no longer alone.
Seagulls argue nearby, 
impatient in their waiting, too.

Lines of blue-green stretch and curl
across a canvas, sodden, besotted,
forming letters lyrically shaped.
I remember.
I allow the surge.

Let the cold rivulets of water 
collide at my feet.

The Shape of Water by Jennifer Lommers

This original art was created from a photograph taken in 2023 while sitting on a small beach on the bayfront of Gig Harbor, WA, my childhood hometown. The photograph was digitally altered and run through a printing press with a colagraph of a vintage lace doily, and one I knit from a vintage pattern. While the seal did not appear to me on that day, he did appear early in the morning at a different location on the bay, greeting me from just a few feet away before diving back underwater.

~ Jennifer

Hello art friends and welcome to Photoshoot Day!

Every once in a while, when the mood strikes, I like to stop and take a moment to get dressed up with my art and celebrate my journey as an artist. I find pauses like this help me to acknowledge hard work and build confidence in my relationship to a professional presence.

Also, right now, I’m especially excited about a new body of work I’m developing, and wanted to document my progress for my own records as well as for upcoming juried art opportunities. And as long as I was at it, embracing my enthusiasm, I decided to pose with the art in one of my favorite thrifted dresses (thank you Revolve Corvallis!)

It’s always an interesting task when doing a photoshoot solo with only an iphone, tripod, and a couple of light stands. I will never claim to be a photographer, but I did my best, and I actually love some of the images that came out of the process (regardless of a few lighting issues).

And let’s not forget the most important model!

For anyone who struggles with putting together a personal photoshoot, I want you to know I struggle too. Our home is small (1000 sq. ft. with one bedroom dedicated to my studio practice). Finding room to work let alone photograph the art is always a challenge.

In this case, I made use of our little dining nook by moving out the table and chairs, taking existing art off the wall, setting up my tripod on the kitchen island, and carefully cropping the photos.

I think it’s a good reminder that not everything is always as it seems - something to keep in mind in an algorithmic and AI image-driven world. As long as I represent the art as honestly as I am able, I am willing to crop the rest out to give it the polish it deserves.

And for promotional and marketing photos (especially when it comes to offering prints of my original art), I will also use services such as Canvy.com to provide a variety of settings. Since I scan my art (rather than photograph it), I am confident in the image capture that I use for both my printed reproductions and digital mock-ups such as this.

I hope this is the first photoshoot of many for this series, but only time will tell. If nothing else, I plan to make more opportunities to wear and photograph my dress and vintage shoe collection!

To celebrating the journey,

Jennifer

If you want to learn more about this body of work…

And if you want more information about where the originals can be found - check out my next studio newsletters (both analog and e-news). Sign-up is available at JenniferLommers.com/Contact

The last piece I worked on in February (above, in progress) feels like an appropriate backdrop for a busy traveling month with its blue motorcar theme. Vroom!

From Colorado to Chicago, IL - I’ve been making the rounds to see family and attend events while keeping art-making at the forefront of my practice. It made for a fast yet fulfilling month of studio experiments mixed with cat cuddles and coffee… lots and lots of coffee!

February Photos

1. Gelatin plate studio printing session with lace

2. Peaches the cat reminds me to clean my studio

3. Reverse glass commission piece in progress

4. Lace forest materials test

5. Carving into “Unforgotten I, After” to finish the piece

6. Sticker sighting - in the wild!

7. Catching up on my reading with a cup of coffee at Curt’s Cafe in Evanston, IL (the scone was delicious and the featured art even better!)

8. Receiving a little love from Thunder the cat

9. A beautiful view of Mt Hood on my return flight

But the best part of my month was attending an installation event at the Boulder Public Library in Colorado, presented by an amazing group of musician-artists (one of whom I feel very lucky to know personally!)

Music from Scrap

Feb. 7 – April 3, 2026 | Main Library, Canyon Gallery
Featuring interactive instruments built from recycled materials, graphic/text scores, artistic infographics about local issues, this project from composer-performer-artists Abby Kellems, Jessie Lausé, and Gavin Kitchen enlivens recycling education through music making.

The event featured handmade instruments and art in the library’s main gallery, and a special performance and talk on recycled materials in the library’s auditorium. The performance included music composed and performed by the artists on instruments literally made from scrap materials. Their ingenuity was impressive - almost as much as their incredible ability to create unique soundscapes as well as beautiful, haunting, and enduring compositions. The crowdpleaser, “Junk Mail”, composed by Abby Kellems, was a delight for all, performed by Renova New Music - a choral group dedicated to performing music by contemporary composers.

The installation is a great reminder of how artists can engage with community in such meaningful and memorable ways - and how important it is that we support this type of work. Creativity is for everyone, and seeing scrap turned into music was inspirational for people of all ages and a testament to the power of collaboration.

I only hope I can take their energy and determination with me for inspiration into the rest of the year!

I think I’ll need more coffee!

~ Jennifer

An Artist’s Notes in 2026

When I started this little writing experiment in 2020, I never imagined I’d still be here six years later. While it’s been fairly irregular and unstructured most of this time (despite various attempts to corral my notes into something more directed), I’m starting this year with a few parameters to focus my efforts.

What can you expect going forward?

• Look for monthly studio updates (e.g. today’s note) as a means to share the art I’m making and the scope of what an art career may look like. This will just be a little walk-through of photos I’ve captured as I go about my artist life.

• Regular “Devotions” as a means to find moments of peace and creativity throughout the year (currently showing up as photographic journal notes such as “A Walk in the Woods”, but may take other forms over the course of the year.)

• Occasional Excerpts from writing and poetry projects to keep myself accountable (aka on schedule) as well as share this other creative novice side of myself. (Some excerpts will be short quotes from my current writing projects, and some may be longer and include a portion of my writing - such as the original poem in “Time Waits for No One”)

• Periodic Reflections on life as an artist. These posts often take the most energy for me to produce and evolve over time before finally being published. They are also where I want to learn and grow the most, seeking out more opportunities to articulate my practice in a meaningful way, to look critically at the plethora of media thrown at us, and to sort through how that shapes a creative process. With that in mind, they will show up when they are ready, I’m able, and hopefully be more in-depth and meaningful to my readers over time.

My hope is that a little structure will enable me to continue posting with the honesty and openness I’m trying to offer, while keeping me from posting paralysis (when my writing insecurities take hold and I leave a string of unpublished posts unread).

I also hope that providing a better idea of what I’m offering in this space will make a subscription more worthwhile and reliable for anyone considering such. I have a lot of unknowns in my future (I’m looking at you, Grad School applications), but wherever tomorrow takes me, I hope to keep writing and sharing my experiences as an artist with you - as well as the occasional bonus art offered to my paying subscribers. (Sign-up as a paying subscriber by March 1 to receive the next offer).

BONUS - Sign up for quarterly analog mail updates

And no matter where you find/follow me, I’m now also offering a newsletter via mail (announced in my latest CollageO post).

“2026 - The Year of Analog Newsletters”

Inspired by literary friends and, in particular, an analog newsletter approach³ - I hope you will consider signing up to receive (free to US enrollees via US Mail) a quarterly newsletter/zine launching this year. For now, I expect to send four mailed updates in 2026. I may include a mini collage or two along the way (or maybe just a few collage tidbits to add to your collection)…

(Side note: I also offer paid versions of this effort in my Studio Store as Collage, Postcard, Sticker, and Notecard Clubs. If you are a member there, you don’t need to sign up here. I will include my analog newsletter within these subscriptions.)

Analog Newsletter Signup

June 24, 2025

“The story of this piece starts with the story of Margie - a weird and uncomfortable step back in time. It seems like such a sweet innocent first date. Why do I find it disturbing? Is it the ‘smile for me’ attitude? Is it the stalker behavior? Life Savers 5 cents.”

~ Studio Journal

How did I get from a vintage magazine page that compelled me to add a note to my studio journal to the ghostly garden, above?

“Unforgotten I” - A homecoming

This piece feels like a coming home, a welcome party for everything I love about making art. I’ve missed this feeling lately. The last time I probably truly enjoyed this sense of artistic belonging was when I was working on my “i am” series of vibrant nature-wildlife themed paintings from 2015-2016.

At that time, I was also experimenting with multiple ideas and techniques and using them to express a deep affinity for the natural world.

10 years later, I’ve certainly veered into new artistic territory, but it finally feels like all the hard work I’ve been doing to understand my pivots and motivations, develop my processes, and let my imagination take whatever path it needed is coming together in new and interesting unexpected ways.

Margie

And while Margie started as a main character in this piece, she has become one of many little stories that work together in support of a larger ecosystem. (In the first phase of this piece, she is still visible, as seen below in the upper center of this detail, captured here as a part of a postcard series that I plan to use for creating a complementary handmade book.)

“Unforgotten I” Before & After

• Phase I - This was the longest period of progression. I slowly built up layers of vintage materials onto a gessoboard as I found materials that compelled me to continue. Part of my process was to make sure I had several layers because I knew I wanted to sand or scrape them away at some point in the process. I felt this was necessary as a means to physically show the erosion of time.

• Phase II - At this point I wanted to push the layers into the background and start developing a new vegetative layer to represent a future showing the survival of species despite our human clutter. I added a light layer of watercolor gesso and pencil linework to delineate flowers and plants familiar to me.

• Phase III - This was by far the scariest jump with this piece. I didn’t originally envision going in this direction, but I was suddenly inspired to let the vegetation take on a ghostly appearance by silhouetting it within an ink background.

• Phase IV - Finally, I wanted to adjust the composition while also returning to my original concept - scraping and gouging into the layers of collage. I ended up using a knife to carve out more botanical shapes. It didn’t work quite like I expected, but it worked how this piece needed, which I appreciated. It gave me ideas for the next iteration of this process.

In representing time this way, I found the hours I put into developing this piece to be a necessary part of the story. Not only did it take time to develop as it waited patiently in my studio for each moment of inspiration, but it was certainly also influenced by a range of work over the last 10 years.

Convergence of Influences

So what led to this piece being made? Why does it feel so harmonious to me? And why do I see it as a fixed point in my artistic journey?

I think the answer lies in how various studio interests came together.

Vintage Collage

Collecting and using vintage materials has become second nature after my initiation into this world via an unexpected cleansing of my childhood home and the myriad of ephemera contained within. This experience manifested in my art practice in a variety of ways - from my experiment, which led to 200 mini collages (so far), to creating a fiber arts installation with Of the Mind.

Botanical Patterns

I love using botanical shapes in my work, both for my personal connection to and joy in interacting with nature, and for the beautiful organic patterning they naturally create - as evidenced in my 2017 book “Expressions of Color and Pattern”. My techniques for representing these elements in “Unforgotten I” are explicitly influenced by my work with reverse glass, stamp-making, and gelatin plate printing. I am also enjoying the benefits of creating 100 botanical drawings last year to help me expand my knowledge of foliage and flowers (with a couple critters included), while building up my practical drawing and watercolor skills - skills which I thoroughly enjoyed bringing into this piece!

Texture and Substance

I was once asked long ago by a very wise artist friend, “What do you love about painting?” My immediate response actually surprised me and has stuck with me many years later - “I love the buttery texture of paint.” In these unexpected words, I was expressing my love of texture, movement, and spontaneity. When I paint, whether with large body movements on a large canvas or with precious small strokes on a little block of wood, I love how a rich, buttery paint moves across a canvas in a dance only I know. And while I dance less often with the heavy body paints of my early career, it’s that texture and density that bring my attention to an art piece time and time again. I am intrigued by the unexpected elements of a piece that reveal layers of history and depth that worry not about the scene or subject. It’s why I don’t care if you see my brushstrokes, preferring my paint to be full of energy and depth in its application, leaving unexpected marks, drips, and ridges. I want to see the making of the art alongside the final piece.

Story

Finally, I keep coming back to the story each piece tells. Whether it’s through the materials being used, the subject matter or references, color and design, or accompanying poetry or text - I love to experience the fullness of an art piece in whatever way an artist (or viewer, bringing their own ideas and responses to a piece) sees fit. In this particular piece, “Unforgotten I”, I want to invite beauty and discomfort into a conversation. What will our human existence leave for future generations? How will the planet respond? What ghosts will we leave in our past, and which will continue to haunt us? How do we balance the delicate and the substantial? Where do we find lightness in the dark?

What’s Next

As I welcome and appreciate the convergence of all my past experiences into a new approach to my art, I also continue to ponder the stories represented in my dialogue with this piece. At the same time, I’m also looking for new ways to share this experience and invite conversation while honoring the history layered into the work - perhaps in that handmade book of postcards with a glimpse of Margie that I mentioned at the beginning…

Until then, my next piece will be an attempt at the same process, but on a larger scale. Hopefully, now that I have a vision for the work, it won’t take me 8 months to finish the next one! But even if it does, I’m happy to have a moment to feel like my most authentic and creative self again, like that young and enthusiastic painter simply appreciating a stroke of buttery paint.

~ Jennifer

Reproductions of this art are available direct from Jennifer’s studio store at JenniferLommers.com/store and via FineArtAmerica at JenniferLommersArt.com

Look for this Original art, and others in the series, to be available both online and in-person starting the weekend of the 4th annual Northside Open Studios Tour, April 18-19.

It’s a cold February day, but not as cold as yesterday.
The sun is out; the sky is blue.
I sip coffee from my favorite mug,
and imagine flowers ready to bloom.
I shuffle through my closet to find something warm,
glancing longingly at summer dresses
waiting patiently for the opportunity
to accompany grandmother’s strand of pearls.

Today seemed like a nice day to recall an old painting, a friend. She was my business logo for a few years and still charms me to this day. She makes me think of winter dressed in a Mona Lisa smile.

Happy February,

~ Jennifer

I know it’s been a while since my last post here. I was grateful, though, to spend some lovely quality time over the Holidays and New Year with family. But now it’s time to fully engage with my studio practice again, and I’m excited to start another year here with you!

First, I recognize this year has started with great difficulty for many, and the state of the world is quite scary, to say the least. I hope wherever you are, you are safe and finding ways to cope and/or make your voices heard.

A New Year Wish

I know it can be hard to be/feel creative in such a time and place. It might be a good time to remember that creating art can be an important part of a mental health or meditative practice; it can help you find connection with others and feed your passions, providing much-needed sustenance. As an active observer of the arts, you can enjoy the health benefits of taking in and reflecting on art. However art and a creative practice may play a role in your life right now, may you find peace within the chaos, may justice prevail, and may creativity fill the rest of our days ahead in 2026 and beyond.

An Artist’s Notes in 2026

When I started this little writing experiment in 2020, I never imagined I’d still be here six years later. While it’s been fairly irregular and unstructured most of this time (despite various attempts to corral my notes into something more directed), I’m starting this year with a few parameters to focus my efforts.

What can you expect going forward?

• Look for monthly studio updates (e.g. today’s note) as a means to share the art I’m making and the scope of what an art career may look like. This will just be a little walk-through of photos I’ve captured as I go about my artist life.

• Regular “Devotions” as a means to find moments of peace and creativity throughout the year (currently showing up as photographic journal notes such as “A Walk in the Woods”, but may take other forms over the course of the year.)

• Occasional Excerpts from writing and poetry projects to keep myself accountable (aka on schedule) as well as share this other creative novice side of myself. (Some excerpts will be short quotes from my current writing projects, and some may be longer and include a portion of my writing - such as the original poem in “Time Waits for No One”)

• Periodic Reflections on life as an artist. These posts often take the most energy for me to produce and evolve over time before finally being published. They are also where I want to learn and grow the most, seeking out more opportunities to articulate my practice in a meaningful way, to look critically at the plethora of media thrown at us, and to sort through how that shapes a creative process. With that in mind, they will show up when they are ready, I’m able, and hopefully be more in-depth and meaningful to my readers over time.

My hope is that a little structure will enable me to continue posting with the honesty and openness I’m trying to offer, while keeping me from posting paralysis (when my writing insecurities take hold and I leave a string of unpublished posts unread).

I also hope that providing a better idea of what I’m offering in this space will make a subscription more worthwhile and reliable for anyone considering such. I have a lot of unknowns in my future (I’m looking at you, Grad School applications), but wherever tomorrow takes me, I hope to keep writing and sharing my experiences as an artist with you - as well as the occasional bonus art offered to my paying subscribers. (Sign-up as a paying subscriber by March 1 to receive the next offer).

BONUS - Sign up for quarterly analog mail updates

And no matter where you find/follow me, I’m now also offering a newsletter via mail (announced in my latest CollageO post).

“2026 - The Year of Analog Newsletters”

Inspired by literary friends and, in particular, an analog newsletter approach³ - I hope you will consider signing up to receive (free to US enrollees via US Mail) a quarterly newsletter/zine launching this year. For now, I expect to send four mailed updates in 2026. I may include a mini collage or two along the way (or maybe just a few collage tidbits to add to your collection)…

(Side note: I also offer paid versions of this effort in my Studio Store as Collage, Postcard, Sticker, and Notecard Clubs. If you are a member there, you don’t need to sign up here. I will include my analog newsletter within these subscriptions.)

Analog Newsletter Signup

Now back to my January studio update…

January in the Studio

While I have been fairly quiet online, I’ve been busy in the studio and connecting with other artists this month!

In order of appearance…

1. (Photo 1) We’re a puzzling during the Holidays kind of family. After finishing two puzzles while both my kids were home, we finally brought out this one: “The NeverEnding Story”, produced by Nautilus Puzzles

   

   It’s one of three of my designs produced by Nautilus, and it is a beautiful wooden heirloom-quality puzzle. If you like difficult puzzles, this one is hard but very rewarding. And I love all the bird and flower shapes!

2. (Photo 2 and 3) I started the year off by taking an encaustic printmaking workshop at Atelier Meridian in Portland, Oregon thanks to a friend’s recommendation (who also recommended the fun hotel choice of McMenamins White Eagle Saloon). The class provided a lot of insight into both how encaustics work as well as printmaking monotype and monoprint techniques. It’s the jump start I needed to finally break open my encaustic supplies and setup a workstation of my own.

3. (Photo 4) Thanks to another artist friend, I started reading Art Monsters: Unruly Bodies in Feminist Art by Lauren Elkin. It’s dense but full of interesting thoughts and a bevy of artists and articles for further investigation. I’ll share more once I finish it.

4. (Photo 5) I submitted my first knit wall-hanging design to an art opportunity! If anything comes of it, I’ll let you know.

5. Planning has begun for the 4th annual Northside Open Studios Tour - thanks to an amazing core leadership volunteer group. My contribution is updating the poster, social media and advertising images (photo 6), and tour map. Thankfully, each year I get a little better at making the updates less cumbersome (for someone not trained in graphic design but fairly capable with InDesign and Photoshop).

6. (Photo 7) I’ve enjoyed several long hikes (now that I’m done with marathon training - phew!) I find time alone in the forest is one of my best creative incubators. Misty mornings also gave me a great opportunity to photograph some ephemeral grey backgrounds; the windy winter weather also often meant climbing over large fallen trees with roots forming intricate, lacy designs.

   

7. (Photo 8) I had the honor of sharing my piece, “Protection Spell”, as a part of the Collective Visions Gallery Annual showcase in Bremerton, WA. Attending their opening, I was reminded of all the ways an artist can feel supported. It was truly a unique and special event full of engaging art, dedicated patrons, and amazing artists from all over Washington and Oregon. If you have a chance to be in that beautiful part of the world before February 27, I highly recommend taking in the show. (Also pictured, “Ethereal Bouquet” by Toby Mason and “Pine Needles in Three Rings” by Roberta Cooper.)

8. (Photo 9) After working on a backlog of art to scan from 2025 - I was delighted to share my 200th mini “BKind” collage, along with several new embellished card designs in my latest post.

   

   Collage O

   200 Mini Collages

   It seems a little unreal to be entering a new year. Is it really 2026 already? If I were to offer some visual representation of how I feel as time progresses into my 57th year around the sun, I think this little “Ode to Blue” sums it up - partly melancholic, hopeful, simultaneously unbound and deliberate, and reaching upw…

   Read more

   8 months ago · 5 likes · 4 comments · Jennifer Lommers

9. SOLD & Commissioned

   Even though I try not to let sales have hold over my sense of artistic value, I admit it’s with a sense of gratitude and validation that I send work to its new forever homes - especially when it’s work where I’m trying something new. Thank you to those who can provide this kind of support at a time when good tidings seem hard to find. It is a boost to my studio practice in more ways than one!
   
   Following is a selection of work sold in January.

   
   I’m closing out January by preparing work for shipment (a delicate process for larger pieces) and continuing work on a commission piece that’s long overdue (but, thankfully, with a very understanding client). Hopefully pictures of that piece will grace next month’s studio update!

Until then…

…all my best to you in your New Year!

Creatively yours,

~ Jennifer

As a part of this series, I’m offering a few free portals to my paying subscribers. You can find the details for claiming your art and/or postcards at the end of this note.

Portals

To catch up anyone who missed my prior “Portal” posts…

I introduced this topic in this post of the same name:

and followed up with this introduction to my work in this area.

Today, however, I offer a different kind of portal.

We face them every day.

Our phone freely offers a window into different places and times with our photo “memories”. A scroll through our Instagram feeds offers a glimpse of who we were or what we thought was important enough to share at a given moment. A walk through a neighborhood may conjure memories we had set aside - the bike rides with kids, now grown; the bare trees we remember in bloom; the friend who moved away.

The world is full of portals. Some transport us to magical places, others may draw us into spaces we don’t want to go, and some offer a look into ourselves, who we were and who we may become.

As I walk and hike the neighborhoods, parks, and trails around me, I am often drawn to photograph what is there. Take a snapshot. Remember this moment. Notice something I would otherwise take for granted or not notice at all.

I especially enjoyed a recent post from on how embroidery engaged her in this observational practice.

Art & Nature

Embroidering the Smallest Worlds

When I walk in the woods around my home, I look down to the forest floor more often than I look at the sky. Wet moss glistening on a fallen log, the sudden bloom of tiny mushrooms after rain, the quiet constellations of lichen on stone…

Read more

9 months ago · 54 likes · 8 comments · Art & Nature

As I take notice of the world around me through my little iPhone snapshots, I am also conscious of the history being captured. I am marking a moment in time. And in doing so, I become more conscious of my surroundings. I consider everything that came before and will continue after.

I believe this is part of my fascination with “portals”. I want to walk through one and see the same space in another time - even if it’s simply in my imagination.

I live near a military post, decommissioned in 1946 after four short years of operation.

The community of Adair Village - what was known as Camp Adair during World War II - is located north of Corvallis, Oregon on Highway 99W. Between 1942 and 1946 - the year the site was decommissioned - Camp Adair served as a training camp and base for over 45,000 troops and military personnel. ~ OregonState.edu

This past year, I’ve been training for a marathon (which I am probably in the middle of running as you read this - and I would love your good thoughts for an injury-free finish)! Much of my training has been on part of this former military base, where old roads and crumbling building foundations hold a haunting appeal. I run up to four hours past the remains of the camp and what has become a State Wildlife area open to seasonal hunting.

The grounds are often covered in what I assume are spent rifle shell casings, as hunters primarily come to stalk the pheasants that are raised on site to stock this area.

As a vegetarian (who occasionally eats fish), I’m not generally acquainted with hunting or hunters. Still, we nod and offer a short greeting or wave as I jog past - me in my bright orange shirt and hat, them in their camouflage gear, following a diligent dog while carrying their hunting rifle. (It always provokes a frustrating internal dialogue within me on the sanctity of life and the cruelty of an existence in the wild with predators lurking around every corner. The Cooper’s Hawk needs to eat too, I tell myself as I imagine the mouse caught in his claws.)

After my brief existential crisis, I then move to thinking about what the camp looked like when it was built and the people who were once stationed here. I imagine the jeeps that would inhabit these roads, the walls of simple houses coming up from their foundational remains, the smoke lilting away from their stacks on a cold winter day. The men smoking on the stoop, preparing for their duties or maybe just finished for the day. The sirens (which I imagine to sound like the local fire station alert) that may or may not blare across the landscape in anticipation of one drill or another.

I stop to catch my breath and take a photo. Was I creating a portal to another world? Did it lead to a past shown in the landmarks left behind? Or to one shown in the curve of the stream crossing a road from one wetland to another? When I photograph the tallest tree, what would be its earliest memory? What other doors may I find?

At one point, I had started a weekly log of my encounters with this historic space (from which the above photos were taken). I fell in love with its many moods and unusual landscape. The practice was one that carried over from my 2020 100-day daily photo journal and I continued to see its influence over my work. Creating a photo journal kept me engaged with my surroundings well after that first project. Both projects helped me to appreciate how I use my art skills to compose my photographs. And how my photographs were beginning to influence my art.

Before and…

It took me a long time to finally call myself an artist - almost two decades after leaving art school, in fact. And while I primarily still see myself as a painter, I have given myself permission to explore other possibilities - from collage and fiber art, to writing, poetry, and photography. I suspect it would take me a decade or two to comfortably add “photographer” or “writer” or “poet” to my notion of self, but I may occasionally and uncomfortably throw those works into the world and present myself as such, for better or worse. I’m learning to be more comfortable in a broader sense of self.

I have always had many interests, thanks to growing up with parents who embraced, almost spiritually, an “I can make that” attitude. From clothes to pottery, to stained-glass lamps and handcrafted furniture, my parents made the most of every penny my dad earned with creative solutions to what they needed or wanted - and gained a plethora of skills along the way. Raising a family on my dad’s High School teacher's salary, they were very conscious of how they spent their money. Being makers was often the only way to keep their budget balanced. From an early age, I earned my “making” stripes. I learned the basics of knitting, crochet, sandblasting, soldering, sewing, sawing, refurbishing, and ceramics. When we went shopping and looked at a price tag, my parents' mantra was always, “I can make that.”

Early in my art career, for practical and commercial reasons, I channeled all this creative energy into one: Painting. Looking back, I am actually amazed (and also grateful) I was able to do that - something so necessary for my growth yet against my nature. Doing so enabled me to refine my skills and gave me confidence and a career as an artist. Now, on this solid footing, I feel empowered to investigate other spaces a little more fearlessly and embrace the beauty of being a novice again and the curiosity that inspires.

After

I can’t avoid thinking about what the coming year will bring. Through which portal(s) will I step? Will I find myself in the past or in some new, unexpected future?

As I complete applications for Graduate School, I am also refining the novel I’ve been working on for the last year while exploring accompanying art; I am developing new installation pieces and investigating collaborations; I am seeking community in new ways, fueled by the possibilities that lie ahead - by the previously unseen doors that have now opened.

This seems like the perfect time to pronounce myself more than the painter I am. (Well, I have always been more - haven’t we all?) I am a mother, wife, daughter, sister. I have been a pianist, teacher, receptionist, data analyst, and information specialist. I was a High School athlete and coach turned recreational runner. I read, write, knit, journal, cook, bake, walk the dog. I am a cuddler of cats and avid bird-watcher.

I am not only a witness to, but a creator of, portals.

I have opened myself to more of the world and to more interesting moments to contemplate. To think about all that has come before - beyond my existence. To visualize what the future may hold, not only next year, but also after I am gone. I look forward to what I may discover, the stories I may find…

The Abbots Bromley Horn Dance

The Abbots Bromley Horn Dance is one of the oldest and most intriguing folk customs in Britain, and its unique combination of ancient symbolism, rural traditions, and local pride makes it a fascinating subject of study. This dance, performed annually in the small Staffordshire village of Abbots Bromley, has endured for over 800 years, and its continued survival speaks to the importance of community and the preservation of heritage. Though the dance’s precise origins are shrouded in mystery, the Abbots Bromley Horn Dance offers an extraordinary glimpse into England’s medieval past and its links to more ancient, perhaps even pre-Christian, customs. ~ theredhairedstokie.co.uk

I found this particular portal while researching my novel, which is set partly in 1899 England. It provided an unexpected link between my work, my heritage, and my creative path forward. If you want to see where this goes, I hope you’ll keep following - and consider a subscription in the new year. I plan to share my progress and release working excerpts from my novel, as well as new art, ideas, poetry, and free postcards (with the occasional stitched portals) to paid subscribers.

I also plan to include photographs more generally in my work. Many of these I will add to a book of photographic inspirations I started earlier this year and had hoped to finish in 2025, but it’s looking like it needs more time to develop - hopefully, 2026? Sorting through my hundreds of photographs has taken longer than I anticipated. Below is a recent selection of postcards from my chapter of tree images.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the rest of your 2025! I will be taking a writing break through mid-January, but look forward to sharing my continuing notes with you, and an occasional “Portal” post on in the New Year - and be sure to upgrade to paid if you would like to receive complimentary corresponding art cards and/or postcards!

To the wonders of a curious mind, the celebration of another Solstice, and the unopened doors that lie ahead.

~ Jennifer

A note for paid subscribers: To receive this week’s free portal art or postcard set…

Read more

We may pronounce each orb sustains a race
Of living things adapted to the place.
Were the refulgent parts, and most refine’d
Only to serve the dark and base design’d?
Were all the stars, whose beauteous realms of light,
At distance only hung to shine by night?
And with their twinkling beams to please our sight?
How many roll in ether, which the eye
Could n’er, till aided by the glass, descry;
And which no commerce with the Earth maintain!
Are all these glorious empires made in vain?

From Sir Richard Blackmore, The Creation: a Philosophical Poem in Seven Books (1712)

I recently came across this poem stanza collected by Sylvia Engdahl in “Early Space Poetry - Part I”. I was first lured to Engdahl’s writing when searching for early references to space in art. I, too, feel that tug to look up and express the awe of existence in an artful way. I love the many ways creatives share their experience with the known and unknown aspects of such vastness.

For me, these expressions often show up in unexpected ways…

… combining new ideas with old, patterned habits and trails taking me down new paths of ancient wonder.

“Are all these little empires made in vain?”

I think not.

In the dark days of winter

Remember to look up.

~ Jennifer

On a walk in the woods today, I stopped to listen to the forest. I was treated to Brown Creepers noisily hopping up two trees, Golden Crowned Kinglets gossiping in the branches, and a Hairy Woodpecker flinging tufts of moss into the air, thereby gently landing at my feet. I write to mark this beautiful symphony as a part of my time on this planet.

In gratitude,

~ Jennifer

p.s. I’m extending my gratitude to any Holiday shoppers wishing for deals on art this weekend by including this link to my e-newsletter. You can find coupon codes at the end of the newsletter for additional savings in my studio store. I appreciate your consideration! But if, like me, you’re trying to stay away from binging on sales, maybe I’ll see you in the woods instead.

Studio Store

I’m thinking about my painting “Fly” this week. It reminds me of the joy of unexpected community - even if it’s with a flock of city birds. They gather for seed as we gather for tables of bounty, surrounding generosity with flutters of every temperament available - much like the banter of a family dining together in the comfort of their home… or at least a family such as mine.

We may not all be present in person, but we’re together via Zoom, spirit, and love. And you can trust my bird feeders will be filled as well.

To a Happy Thanksgiving week,

~ Jennifer