In 2017, shortly after the Trump Administration settled into the White House for the first time, Jess Broze painted "Multiplicity," a somber, smeared self-portrait rendered in muted browns and concrete greys. Around the same time, she also created "Split," an equally haunting self-portrait exploring her post-election anxiety alongside the universal "slipperiness of identity."
"With 'Split,' I was trying to make sense of the disintegration of reality," recalls the Santa Monica-based artist, "trying to hold space for what I could not fathom and also draw sharp boundaries where I wasn't willing to negotiate. 'Multiplicity' was about feeling too many ways about too many things at too fast a pace. [I felt] that my container was faulty and could no longer stay intact, harboring all the emotions tornado-ing inside me."
That tornado becomes more and more apparent the longer you look at Jess' self-portraits. Windless, washed in mid-tone greys and soft shadows, her work appears hushed at first, sealed on the surface with pale, steely colors, quiet as a manmade pond. Underneath, burnt orange, hot magenta, and blood red seep to the surface, staining everything that’s grey—walls, curtains, faces—with a cacophony of color. It's a technique Jess picked up at the New York Academy of Art while taking a series of "flesh painting" courses with instructor Alyssa Monks.
"It is hard to overstate how difficult it was for me to find pretty basic information about technique prior to this time in NYC," says Jess. "Everyone I asked and the internet accepted that the knowledge of painting had been lost, and you should simply feel your way through, and that a basic palette of three primary colors was all you needed. I was so frustrated by this palette that was clearly inadequate, and yet, I couldn't find an alternative." Everything changed when Jess met Alyssa, who taught her to see differently. Over time, color evolved into the emotional core of Jess' work.
"Putting complementary colors next to each other creates this vibrating energy that makes paint feel alive," Jess says. “I really like a lime green next to a magenta or blue over an orange. This vibrating pulse also happens when one uses a really bright color for the underpainting (for me, that is often magenta or transparent red oxide—which looks like an intense rusty orange) and then allows bits of that bright color to shine through more muted colors used to paint over it. It kinda feels like blood or a life force to me."
Scroll through to read our interview with Jess Broze, then head to our February 2025 exhibition, Pantone 2025: Mocha Mousse, to see her submission, "Split."
In Today's Q+Art Interview…
Jess Broze discusses the "slipperiness of identity," the necessity of curiosity in the creative process, and why she thinks Greta Gerwig would be a "fun" dinner guest.
How do you like to start your day?
Jess Broze: My ideal start to a day would be sitting outside with coffee, followed by a walk and then a guided meditation. And not checking in with digital devices or the world before spending this time with myself. I feel I function my best if I manage to start my day this way.
What is your favorite creative ritual?
JB: Walking.
What is the last good film you saw?
JB: I watched Barbie for like the tenth time last week. It amazes me what Greta Gerwig and Margot Robbie managed to create. To make this movie that is so subversive and also so fun, and do it within the constraints of the Mattel corporation and within a studio system makes it all the more mind-boggling.
If you could have dinner with any artist, living or dead, who would it be?
JB: This question popped into my head after watching Barbie, and I said to my husband, "You know that dinner question? I think I'd choose Greta Gerwig." I don't know what I'd ask her or want to know. It just seems like she would be very interesting and fun to be around. Greta, can we watch The Godfather while you talk over it and tell me about the movie's rich blend of genius? Or better yet, can we do this with the Barbie movie?
You mention that the phrase ‘I am at least two’ encapsulates your current works. Can you elaborate on what this means to you and how it reflects in your art?
JB: I suppose this phrase is about the slipperiness of identity. How we are all many things, with endless nuances that necessarily shift depending on what circumstances we find ourselves occupying. That identity is in constant negotiation with the truths we know and carry, the obligations we have, and the identities projected onto us by others that, true or false, certainly never capture our full selves or our full truths.
How do you reconcile the idea of your artwork being both personal and autonomous?
JB: I'm only me, but I am also human. I only have my reference points, experiences, information I've gathered, and emotions I've felt, so that is what shows up when I make art. But also, I am human; I am experiencing this time period. I am reacting to a world shared by a lot of other humans, and I think some of those humans likely recognize some bits of their feelings, moods, or moments via what I have made. That flicker of recognizing shared humanness makes us all feel less alone, gives us permission to experience or wander in a feeling, and [lets us] know we are more than our solo selves.
What philosophies influence your work?
JB: In college, I was introduced to a philosophy of opposites. That an object/word/idea's opposite is a required element for creating meaning or describing a thing. When I began learning more about art techniques, this idea crystallized in my head, and I also started noticing it play out in all aspects of life.
If I'm drawing a very soft object, how do I show it is soft? I put a hard object next to it, contrast. If you want to show brightness, add darkness. Everything is in relationship within its context, and its opposite will help describe its essence. Do you want to show that a color is very warm? Then, surround it with cold colors.
Once, in a painting workshop, the instructor was painting on top of a transparent orange color underpainting. They started adding really warm values over that underpainting, and to my eye, that super warm orange transformed into alizarin [crimson], a very cool, blue-leaning red. Even though I knew about relational color stuff, it stunned me.
Every five years or so I try to find this philosophy and fail. I just Googled, and the AI summary tells me it is either Hegel's Unity or Derrida's Difference.
What role do you believe playfulness has in the artistic process, and how do you keep that spirit alive in your work despite societal pressures to ‘grow up’?
JB: I think the best work is made when one is in a mindset of wonder. I wonder what will happen if I move like this? Put this color here? When interactions are playful and lead to surprises and happy accidents, the outcome is almost always greater than working towards a very specific outcome. Playful and curious experimentation is necessary to improve at most anything. But play also goes hand in hand with more mature ideas like structure and discipline. You kinda need both. I suppose our culture seems to be a little uneasy with the idea of grown-ups playing. Like we think it is a waste of time, but is it really?
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