Carl Jennings
Hawai’i, USA
Website
www.cjennings.com
Social Media
Instagram
How would you describe your work?
Short Answer: Non-representational, small scale, and mostly oil on panel.
Long Answer: Small non-representational paintings with shapes that are suggestive of figures, entities, architectural objects, spaces; colors that are both harmonious and dissonant; surfaces that are raw, unfinished, and irreverent.
The shapes hint at vessels, heads, or structures without fully resolving into anything recognizable. I think of the shapes and forms almost like entities or beings - aliens from another dimension. I’m attracted to elements like that. Which is why I strive for a certain degree of ambiguity and uncertainty in the work. I want the paintings to remain slippery, open- ended, and alive. I’m not interested in quick readability or fixed meaning, and I try to resist stylistic unity, even though I naturally gravitate toward certain shapes, marks, and colors. I’m more interested in creating a space that allows for uncertainty, complexity, and sensation.
Color is a major part of what I do—and a lifelong obsession. I’m fascinated by the science, history, culture, and perception of color. In painting, I’m drawn to colors that are both jarring, acidic, and unexpected, as well as those that calm or can ground the work. I want both at once.
I’m always looking for combinations that shouldn’t work—but do.
Finally, the work is very physical - I emphasize process, gesture, and the stubborn, material presence of paint. The visible brushwork, stripes, lattices, and gestural marks in the work betray an immediacy and a presence - as well as a resistance to polish.
What inspires you?
First and foremost: the visual world. I’m constantly attracted, and distracted, by it—color relationships, odd shadows, the edge of light on an object, etc.
I’m also inspired by anomaly and strangeness - things that are surprising yet engaging. When I was young, I was mesmerized by the black monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey. It felt completely out of place, like it didn’t belong to our world—and yet there it was. It was both philosophical (what does it mean?) and also hopeful (a new world?). I’ve always been attracted to that kind of presence: uncanny, inexplicable, but somehow meaningful. I try to carry that feeling into my paintings.
Can you speak about your process?
I don’t do any sketches or preparatory work. For me, painting is performative. It happens in the immediacy of the response. But I don’t consider myself a “process artist” in the traditional sense either. Though I employ a lot of chance and randomness in how I approach the work, especially when starting, I am always after something specific – a feeling, a vibe - the uncanniness I mentioned earlier. And I also need to be surprised. A painting isn’t finished until it has something that is not-me in it, something more than me. I’ve been painting a long time, and I’ve seen a lot of art in my time, so it’s not easy to surprise myself. But that’s the goal. When a painting starts to feel too familiar, or overworked, or too self-conscious—like it’s trying to be something—I usually stop. I’ll sand it down, paint over it, or recycle it completely. I want the work to feel honest; that is, not pretending to be something it’s not. I find it difficult to fully explain.
And then there’s the issue of titles. I leave that completely up to randomness and chance. When I complete a painting, I go online to a random word generator. I have an agreement with myself that I will accept whatever word comes up, even if I don’t like it. I enjoy the interpretive and associative space that this opens up. Put two dissimilar things together, and we, as humans, will always find an imaginative connection. I love that. In fact, I think that this is what goes on most of the time anyway. We make shit up. We experience things, usually partially, and we build whole constellations of meaning and interpretation around them. I see my approach to titles as a playful extension of the work. Besides, it’s an easy solution!
How did you become interested in art?
When I was young I wanted to be a soccer player but then realized I would probably peak in my twenties, so then I wanted to become a rockstar, but then realized I would probably peak at 30 (though things have changed a bit on that front!) eventually I decided to embrace painting, because you don’t peak until later, or even after your dead! I feel that I am a slow developer, so I wanted to buy myself some time!
The truth however, is that it was something I always did, and I was encouraged by my parents, teachers, and friends. Also, I grew up with lots of non-representational art in the house.
Paintings with circles and squares, small abstract or exotic table ornaments/sculptures (my dad travelled a lot), I don’t fully understand how or why, maybe it was a byproduct of the 70s, but my friends' houses were not like that – they mostly had the obligatory landscapes. But I never really thought much about it, especially since my parents were not artists or particularly interested in art. They just liked it, and I thought such art was normal.
Do you have any favorite artists, movies, books, or quotes?
My favorite painter is Edvard Munch, and I have traveled to Oslo several times to see his work
in person. He is a painter’s painter, but The Scream is, in my humble opinion, his absolute worst! His technique, use of color, and his ability to use incompleteness is a tour de force.
When I was just starting out, I was deeply influenced by the Abstract Expressionists, who taught me that painting can be a sensory experience, not just an image. Today, I am much more drawn to the works of people like Richard Tuttle and Raoul de Keyser. I think there is a Zen-like simplicity to their work, where the sheer joy of perception is placed front and center - so simple it becomes mysterious. But I also admire the irreverence and playfulness of artists like Nicole Eisenman and Martin Kippenberger – from Eisenman, I admire the sheer iconoclastic playfulness of her technique, and Kippenberger keeps me from taking things too seriously. Also, I enjoy looking at the many painters I find on Instagram.
What advice do you have for younger artists?
Look slowly at things – they take time to reveal themselves.
Trust yourself and your instincts.
Don’t be afraid to change.
Any more thoughts about art, creativity, or anything else you would like to share?
I’d like to end with a short and unfinished thought:
One of the things that concerns me as a painter, especially an abstract painter, is the question of the relationship of art to the wider world in terms of the immense amount of conflict, cruelty, suffering, and injustice that exists. Often, I find myself in the studio struggling to ‘get the blue right’ whilst at the same time being painfully aware of what’s happening in places like Gaza, Syria, Ukraine, etc. It raises the point about the role and purpose of art, as well as privilege. What am I doing? And why? This is a question I return to again and again. And even if I don’t have an answer, I feel that it is important to keep asking it.
I don’t think painting is particularly good at tackling these issues head on – not in the same way that photography, film, documentaries, or journalism can. So I do other things with my time – I teach, volunteer, protest, etc. But it still doesn’t resolve the issue. I seek to understand the place of art, not just my art, in all of this, which is why I feel the need to take several steps back and get a sense of the big picture, and it is there that I find a small window of possibility. It is through art that we can experience and practice imaginative play – that we can explore other realities and other perspectives – art helps us to see and feel about the world differently. And I believe that it is only by engaging with the imagination that we will come up with the ideas, feelings, and perspectives that are so desperately needed to move the needle forward and reduce suffering. I am not a doctor with Médecins Sans Frontières, I am not an aid worker on the front lines, or a nurse, or a diplomat. I am an artist. I make art because it makes me feel alive, and brings me joy - I live with the idea that hopefully somehow, someway, somewhere, what I do brings more joy into this world.
In the meantime I will keep asking myself the same question – art, for whom and for what?
