I have a new artist crush.
Her name is Laura Jones, and she paints flowers.
Fat raindrops of garish and pastel hues are daubed across the canvas, filled with a serendipitous, sometimes nonchalant sort of intent. The colour palettes are sometimes restrained, but always create an exciting field for the eyes to roam.
A bit Matisse, a hint of Whistler, and some parts Cezanne. But all with a graceful femininity.
I don’t think I’ve ever used the term joie de vivre, but I use it now, for even her more sombre works seem to celebrate the fleeting beauty of these lush flowers and their life force. There is an inherent freedom within these pieces, and a sense of movement behind the thick, solid textures. Laura’s paintings feel spirited, and honest, and just full of meant-to-be-ness.
To me, artwork at its best is eye-widening, mind-broadening, soul-nourishing.
Thank you, Laura, for ticking all three.