jessie yvette journoud-ryan

| CERAMIC MIXED MEDIA SCULPTURE

distinctive architectural feature of the region, dating back to the 14th century in Burgundy, France. These sculptures are personal totems and a representation of my double cultural belonging: a tribute to Places of Belonging: the place of my childhood, where I explored and developed my love for nature in Australia; and the place of my family heritage, in Burgundy, France.

I spend a lot of time watching birds in their natural environment: their movement, strut, and wing work. Superb Fairy Wrens and Black Cockatoos are regular visitors in my garden. I draw them and create designs for my chosen substrate. After selecting the crockery and creating ceramic feathers, the artwork evolves accordingly.

These sculptures - created by crockery, donated by the local community, or discarded treasures found in local op shops and antique warehousesreflect somewhat an embarrassment of riches and pay tribute to nature... the very thing that our consumerist propensity to ‘stuff’ threatens in our day and age. In an age where we are becoming increasingly aware of the excess inundating our domestic spaces and what this means for the environment: upcycling as a creative process is a comment on our current existence and state of the world.

Residing in Dijon as a teenager and being creatively driven, I pursued a Fine Arts pathway and attended a National Ceramics school in rural Burgundy, specialising in the traditional decorative arts of ceramic painting. Training was technical, steeped in history and tradition which gave me a love for crockery and an eye for spotting quality pieces.

In Melbourne, I engaged in Fine Art studies and was granted a number of awards including the Monash University Faculty of Art and Design Research Masters Scholarship and the Acquisitive Prize for the 2017 Burrinja Climate Change Biennale. Over the years, I have been involved in numerous art initiatives, including in recent years the completion of artworks for the Olinda Playspace in the Dandenong Ranges.

As a French-Australian artist and Fine Arts educated on both shores - my work also reflects personal narratives of migration, belonging and cultural heritage.

While the choice of medium and crockery reflect my European heritage, the subject matter is a response to my natural surroundings and home - in the Dandenong Ranges.

In the Anhinga series, exhibited at Tacit Art in Melbourne in 2021, my rendition of the Australasian Darter Bird is a representation of my double cultural belonging.

In recent years, I have regularly observed and sketched these birds at a local nature Reserve - Birdsland - in the Dandenong Ranges. As a child, I spent a lot of time there, exploring nature. The geometric patterns incorporated in this series, echo the glazed roof tiles of Burgundy – a

jessie yvette journoud-ryan

I was a painter until a chance encounter with l’Estampe Contemporaine market in Paris, June 29th 2009, after which everything changed, and I have never looked back. It was a printmakers market, and the day I got home – I started making prints.

I love everything involved in the process of making a linocut print. From deciding what the next project might encompass, be it the forest I live near, or the trees wounded by the ‘Black Summer,’ or Japan’s Nakasendo Way, being more forests, but deciduous this time.

I enjoy taking and choosing the photographs that might be necessary as reference points for my print work. From sketching the outlines and shading on the lino, to deciding which cutting techniques will best capture my intentions, and experimenting with new ones, to the conversations with other linocut artists.

I’m happy to associate myself with all those artisans of the past who used the skill of their hands to express a kind of beauty, whether that beauty is expressed through the perfect lines of a Claude Flight print, the quiet devastation in a Kath Kollwitz, the brutality in an Otto Dix, or maybe in the beauty of a sculpture, or even that in a perfectly made chair.

I love the necessary and continual dialog between my head and my hands that creating each image demands, and weighing the decisions made in how to proceed, how to best cut that sky, that cloud, that tree, that pond, the vastness of that desert, the individuality of each person that might find themselves represented in my work.

I love the physicality of the cutting process itself, which sometimes can take up to a month for the larger and more complex images. Lino-cutting is a very physical kind of work. There are cutting tools that need to be sharp, and my preferred 1 or 2mm V and U-tools are practically impossible to sharpen and forever need replacing. I love selecting the papers to be used, and fondly remember taking a bullet train from Tokyo to Takamatsu, before changing to a local train down to Awa, and spending hours discussing printing papers with those who actually make Awagami paper. I love running a finished lino through my press, and soon enough peeling off the hopefully perfect print.

I also love making prints which can be an edition, as I can keep an instance of all my work, and I love that prints are generally far more affordable than, say one-offs, like a painting might be.

I enjoy cities, but the subject I use most frequently is trees. This comes from living in a tiny milling town in far East Gippsland as a child. I never forgot my love of those forest giants, or my fear that the saw mills would take them all. As an adult it’s no accident that I live in the Dandenong Ranges, to be as close to the forest as I possibly can.

As an artist living amongst the trees and ferns that make the Dandenong Ranges so iconic, I am incredibly inspired by not only the landscape, but the varying species of flora and fauna of which it consists. When immersed in the bush I am particularly fascinated and enlightened by the glow of sunlight filtering through leaves and the way in which light interacts with the landscape.

Like many artists, I have been drawing for as long as I can remember and I have my parents and VCE Studio Arts teachers to thank for embracing and encouraging my desire to create and pursue art. During my teenage years I was completely fascinated with mandalas and would fill pages of books with these detailed, circular patterns. Although mandala art is not prevalent in my current work, I am grateful for the time spent towards this discipline as it developed a strong work ethic that has carried through into my work today.

At Swinburne University of Technology, I completed a Diploma of Visual Art. It was here I was taught to refine my painting skills and had the opportunity to explore other mediums such as printmaking and photography. This was followed by a year of extensive experimentation and I started taking on commissions and selling my art.

In 2022 I received an artist’s residency opportunity at Burrinja and the ability to participate in the Dandenong Ranges Open Studios courtesy of Swinburne University and Burrinja. This kick started a drive that I had never obtained before to pursue my art practice full time and I have been within the Aerie shared studio space since. Being surrounded by other creatives has encouraged me and generated momentum in my own practice. It is something I am very grateful for.

I aim for a high level of detail in my work in an attempt to recognise the significance and complexity of the natural subjects I depict. These are often

Australian native birds, flowers and varying landscapes. Native birds are often characterised through abstract backgrounds, popping with colour and texture to express the emotions of joy which I feel in the presence of these animals.

I would describe my art as mostly realism with abstract elements. Primarily working with acrylic on canvas, I enjoy blocking in darker colours first and slowly adding highlights and details from there. I often work from gathered source imagery or photographs taken when exploring the Dandenongs in settings such as local gardens and nurseries. It is here I not only learn about our native ecology but I feel the most inspired to paint my sightings. These could be rare or indigenous plants to the area or birds interacting with the landscape through pollination. Experiences such as these often inspire the subjects within my artworks.

My art is my way of paying homage to the natural world that I care about so deeply, and a way of sharing its importance with others.

I was introduced to glass while studying fine art at RMIT. My high school art teacher encouraged me to attend a local leadlight class in Upwey. At some point during that four week short course I realised that glass was to be my medium.

I transferred my studies to Monash University where I undertook a 4 year Bachelor in Ceramic Design majoring in glass, graduating in 1992. Initially I was attracted to the hot glass studio with its immediacy and dynamic method of working, however I soon discovered I had an affinity with sculpting and glass casting.

Over the years I have continued to develop my practice to encompass a variety of kiln forming techniques. My work now focuses on sculpture that incorporates screen printed images in and on the glass. My imagery is influenced by Victorian era ‘memento mori’ aesthetics and explores themes of mourning and loss. I either source my images from vintage photos from op shops and antique stores or more recently I have begun to do photo shoots with models. I screen print directly onto the glass and add hand painted element. I then fire the glass in a kiln, possibly up to ten times to create the desired depth in the image. I always have a strong underpinning narrative that dictates the overall direction of each piece.

When I start a work I might have an idea of the end result but it’s never locked in. Instead I prefer to let the glass and paint take on a voice of their own. The works are not a literal retelling of the underlying story but rather an emotional response to the topic. The intention is not for the viewer to directly interpret the story but rather get a sense or feeling from the piece.

I use a variety of glass techniques to create my canvases, sometimes cast, fused, or blown forms. A lot of my production methods are slow and very involved. I tend to work from the ground up, occasionally even hand sewing items to be used in the mould making process, or spending hours sculpting waxes for lost wax casting. At times I employ other materials such as found objects or human hair. Kiln formed glass is technically involved but I enjoy the challenge the medium offers. There is a fair bit of science and maybe a bit of alchemy involved in working with glass! I have started to screen print onto paper to work more quickly and create work that is spontaneous in nature.

I’m enjoying this new medium but I will always continue to work with glass. My professional practice has included numerous workshops with local and international artists, acting as a studio assistant, running a dedicated community access glass studio, and completing many significant commissions. My work is represented in collections in Australia and internationally.

I am a classically trained visual artist and designer and have lived in the Dandenong ranges for 25 years. Over that time, I have worked in and taught many art forms with figurative drawing and oil painting being my specialty. I have regularly participated in life drawing since I was a teenager and find the experience of drawing the human form so grounding and rewarding. My passion for painting and daily work as a brand manager and designer often influence and enhance one another. First and foremost, my work has always aimed to connect with people through the exploration of universal narratives that resonate with all of us.

Most of my life I have explored all forms of wet and dry media and enjoy combining them in 2D works. Just recently in my creative life I have discovered the joy in small scale sculpture. This was initiated by a visit to an amazing solo exhibition of Shaun Tan’s work several years ago. I fell in love with his playfulness, intimate scale and enigmatic narratives. He inspired me to return to three dimensional forms and hone my storytelling skills. I tend however, to be guided by intuition rather than carefully planning when including symbols in my works. Children and innocence, birds, empty landscapes, discarded objects of the past and the passage of time have featured in my recent pieces. Sometimes I like to juxtapose figurative elements and I enjoy the possible meanings that grow out of them. I like to think that my works tackle serious issues but rather than lecture to you, they invite you in, like they have a secret to whisper in your ear.

I feel blessed to be part of a vibrant, compassionate creative community. It has kept me sane and nudged me back onto the creative path so many times when I wandered off. I’ve always cared deeply about others but I think becoming a father kicked my empathic level into overdrive. Sometimes it’s hard to process all the grief and suffering in the world and it can seem easier just to shut off. My art has helped me channel these feelings and allows me to connect with other like-minded souls, close at hand and around the world.

For the near future I am excited to be re-opening an art studio with my talented artist and therapist wife. We both have so much more to share and experience with other creatives around the hills and those who need to reconnect with the neglected artist inside.

Belgrave Painting

The first time I found clay was the first time I knew that I had found my medium. As a child I sourced all my own materials from ‘the wild’. Charcoal from outdoor fires, clay from dams and building sites, colours from berries and plants.

I sieved dirt to make different textures for mud cakes and pretty much only remember art sessions from my time at school.

After leaving school I studied Fine Art Ceramics and concentrated on hand building and sculpture rather than making functional ware, even though I’m fascinated by the magic of mud to receptacle. I think I’m the only ceramicist I know who does not have a collection of hand made mugs or bowls!

I like to work fast so have developed a technique that suits me. Using very large slabs I make the beginnings of a few pieces at a time. After laying down the groundwork I slow down and start forming the character of a piece and eventually refine the details, spending as much time as needed on each piece until I’m satisfied that it is conveying what I want to say. I love the way clay is so malleable. You can add, you can take away, you can change the gesture of a piece in a moment.

Drawing was my first love so I’m always noting the marks the tools are making in the clay as I work. Lines, dents, scrapes and shadow planes. These making marks become intrinsic to the piece. I sometimes write words into the clay which may or may not be covered. I then use underglazes, oxides and engobes for colour as I prefer a drier, more painterly finish where the integrity of the dry clay is still obvious.

The hills felt like home from the time I moved here. The beautiful Dandenongs is a place of peacefulness and restoration from an incessantly chattering world. As with so many hill’s artists, this unique environment has played a big part in how I work. It influences structure, colour and an intuitive interpretation of these surroundings. The sound of Ferny Creek running past my studio door and a backdrop of ancient tree ferns through every window means that the natural world is never far from my thoughts.

You can add, you can take away, you can change the gesture of a piece in a moment.

Art is a solitary profession, often at odds with the need to earn a living and raise a family. So my life’s journey has been trying to find a balance between saving the world and feeding the kids. Through my artworks, I am trying to illustrate my bewilderment at the growing signs of the approaching apocalypse.

Climate change, consumerism, war. But it would all be a bit grim without a little humour too.

It is ironic that our trees are chopped for pulp to make books that I tear up to make pictures of trees.

I draw, stitch, burn and rust the paper and fabric I find and reuse to create collage, paintings, artists books and installations.

The last decade has been an endeavour, exploring the possibilities of paper through collage and bookmaking.

Paper from old books has a seductive smell…the way it feels, how it tears…absorbs paint….the historical yellowing and spotting mirroring time itself.

I have altered, dissected, deconstructed old books and created my own volumes. These books become a dialogue between myself and the world, hoping that someone may view and participate in that story.

The definition of an artist’s book is pretty vague. It may or may not be a multiple, or have pages, or even be made with paper… but I am drawn to the artist’s book as a seemingly humble offering that opens to present pages, a story to be seen and read, one that is made to be sometimes touched and browsed by the viewer and sometimes, to sit in a shelf.

I am driven to construct art whether it be framed and on a gallery wall, created ephemerally in the forest for nature to deconstruct, glued as a mosaic on a school wall or stored in the dusty back corridor.

Finally, I’d like to acknowledge that feeding the family and the craftwork that paid for that has also been an integral part of my journey, as has been my community and the artists around me.

So, maybe I can’t save the world before I die, (or at least before my knees give way) but I’d like to think that community workshops, mentoring and the occasional tangential journey into (semi legal) public installations (ok, graffiti projects) may have influenced someone else to make their mark as well.

And maybe art need not be so solitary after all.