Jen Sanders

Jen Sanders

Jen Sanders

After birthing my two daughters, I found myself on the other side of a monumental chasm that I had not known I would need to cross. From this vantage point, I began to paint self portraits. You see, I needed to re-introduce myself to my body and my face, in order to locate my identity, which I had lost somewhere on the other side of the chasm. I started painting myself, but in the process, I realized I’m not just me anymore; I multiplied. Or I disappeared. Probably both. My figurative oil and acrylic paintings are stories of particular moments. They carry color like a sunset next to a trash bin; ordinary situations, domestic arrangements, that leave room for something else. A split, a two-ness. We have a cute little dog that jumps at our faces. And we have an aquarium. Our snail ruthlessly ate the beautiful little orange fish in our aquarium. The snail itself is orange, and so delicate, and so helpful, cleaning up the tank. The duality of a creature never fails to appear, so that’s something to count on. But it’s so horrifying and dangerous and so very much like motherhood.