IX
Red Hook: October 16th, 2016.
As I tackle finishing another body of work for my upcoming show this July; a necessary shift from the process of birthing ideas, to the realization of a chosen direction is in order. In times past, my need to express was so overwhelming that I was unable to pause long enough to refine, select and finish a given collection. My mind, body and soul burned in the wake of a legacy steeped in pain. Sitting still was difficult, let alone embracing the hours of solitude and attention to render a finished work of art. This season of healing did lend itself well to performance, but it would be many years before I was able to produce a cohesive body of work, despite the raw power within my ceaseless creative output. The process was disheartening, as I wanted my work, my authentic core, to reflect the joy I embraced outside the studio walls. My inner child was still screaming to be heard, despite my efforts to stifle her cries.
It wasn’t until my third solo exhibition, Finding Joy, in downtown Calgary last February that the core of my being began to shift. In the months leading up to the show, I began tackling yet another installation on domestic violence and to my utter surprise and delight found that I was unable to complete the work as intended. I had amassed a huge collection of broken beer bottles, glass shards and tar, however after filling the fridge with the lot, I felt compelled to remove them. I began painting the fridge in tar, but quickly shifted to white over the thick layers of filth. I tried installing a sculpture of a macabre head I fashioned out of resin, but found it to be disturbing and not the energy I was looking for. I typically work impulsively and without hesitation, but this piece was not taking on a life if it’s own. It was stagnant, without life. I proceeded to scrape out the entire mountain of shards, until all that remained was a small mountain of turquoise cubes of glass I had gathered from the local bus stop, after it was vandalized. I placed a small metallic bird on the top of the glass, shut the freezer portion in the top half and realized she was done.
My relief was INDESCRIBABLE!!!! I literally began to dance and jump with ecstasy!!! Sheer joy!! I knew in that moment that the direction of my work had taken an irrevocable shift and was utterly grateful, despite the many patrons I would lose in the process.
I am not a dark artist. I never was. Each and every work I have ever created stems within my honest story. It is indelibly intertwined with my life and the means through which I have come to embrace health, sanity and peace. I never wanted my work to spread darkness, misery or shame; it was intended as a beacon of hope for the many others who have also suffered through the pain of abuse.
We all grapple with pain in one form or another; denying this aspect of our lives is to remain stuck within its grip. We give space for the darker aspects of our stories, so that we can move beyond them. I keep a select few of these darker works, as a visual reminder of the grace I have been given as a woman, a mother and friend. We cannot truly appreciate joy, without experiencing suffering.
With Love & Gratitude,
Jennifer Peters - April 17th, 2026.
