If you have time and inclination, then I would love you to read on, but otherwise, I hope you might enjoy following my journey visually and with some curiosity.

I was born in Hertfordshire, UK, and moved to Devon in 2007. I was a graphic designer for over twenty years, so colour and composition have always been a big part of my world. In 2005 I completed a BA (Hons) in Fine Art, and in 2008 a Masters in Arts and Ecology.

I am a colourist, leaning towards abstract expressionism. Initially my work comes from a continual obsession with colour in the landscape, man-made and natural – blocks and stripes of it, for this is what I see day-to-day. Oh, and in my final pieces I often can’t resist adding a little pizazz with fluorescent pigments.

Horizontal stripes make up my new work – if we are far enough away from the horizon, our view will appear pretty flat; this to me is calming, like looking out to sea is calming. Calm is one of the things I am aiming at alongside encouraging one’s own contemplation and serenity.

The world’s fragility is a fundamental part of my work – my awareness of people’s and nature’s struggles are key; so in addition to my obsession with colour, my use of certain materials evokes subliminal undertones of big issues; by this I mean the use of PLA (polylactic acid, a transparent film made of vegetable starches), which is a direct reference to the crippling effects of plastic. The use of metal and other materials and multiple glazing techniques are articulating history.

I travel as much as I can; my work is a direct response to Africa, Europe, South East Asia, India and New Zealand as well the South West of England where I live.

I began my creative career as a graphic designer, but after nearly 25 years I began my true creative journey – my personal art. I completed a BA (Hons), 2005, University of Hertfordshire then an MA (Arts and Ecology), 2008, Dartington, Devon. I was a director of Art.Earth until it folded in 2023. (Biography page).

My contemporary painting is based on landscape and seascape around the world, and alludes to this Fragile Earth, a title I sometimes use. My work is often described as ‘powerful’ – what you are seeing is a slice of the world as I see it but also my emotions and feelings, at that moment; I hope it resonates with my audience.

I live and work near Bovey Tracey, Devon, England.

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When I began my ‘proper’ artistic journey in 2000, I wanted to paint. I did not know why I wanted to paint, only knew I did. For as long as I can remember I have drawn, painted and made things, my late father influenced me hugely although he was no great artist (although he could have been); he knew the importance and enjoyed the experience of art.

But instead of painting, during my studies I made films, had conversations, wrote a bit, played around a bit, did collaborative stuff. The Arts and Ecology MA I completed in 2008 left me a bit of an anarchist, with a small a. I do have strong views about a lot of injustices in this world, a hatred of people who treat others, and this earth, so unkindly.

I produced some art on serious subjects – the destruction of the UK dairy farming industry, (installation, film and conversation, Milked Dry, 2007); the equally destructive fishing of our waters that will deplete the oceans of fish for ever if we don’t do something, (installation and film, Fishy Business, 2010) and with food following and the exploitation of workers around the globe (dinner, installation and sound piece, An Antipodean Expedition, 2008).

The more I researched, the more upset I became and my art was not my friend anymore.

In 2010 I started to draw and paint more seriously, but was floundering. What I wanted to know was – what did I need to say and, more importantly, why? In 2013 I started to find a voice, and my narrative and reason for painting. I need my art to give me solace in this world – it is somewhere I retreat to and looks forward to being in, it is a means of communicating there is still beauty in the world, it is not all bad. I am fully aware of what is happening – but I try my best to give something lovely back to my audience, and as importantly to me!

Joseph Beuys was instrumental in a way of communicating that I aspire to, he founded Social Sculpture. In my own small way – if I can influence a mood to be lighter, to encourage someone to look more wonderingly at the colour of the landscape and celebrate their justifiable place within it, and they pass that feeling on, then my job is done. Joseph Beuys talked of the butterfly theory – I can’t change the world any more than you can, but I can perhaps try to make it a bit better, a bit more joyful.

Jane hopes you enjoy her work – the textures (rough and smooth), the colours (gloomy and bright), the underlying narrative (life is tough but also wonderful).

© Jane Hodgson

I feel lost in the great big world
“Art can be sympathetic to our fear of being lost in a complex world by making a smaller and more contained world that we can explore. … The desire to turn dangerous things in to toys isn’t trivial. It’s a way of taming the world – and it’s what art (among other things) does. It domesticates the wildness that might otherwise overwhelm us. By the simple, lovely trick of changing the scale, we make ourselves a bit bigger in relation to our problems”.

Only idiots like pretty, sweet things
” Beautiful flowers aren’t a way of avoiding the tougher facts; they are a consolation… the mood that beauty naturally encourages – is a good state of mind to be able to access, given the number of problems we have to face. A taste for pretty art isn’t a denial of the troubles of the world; it shows a wise awareness of the extent of suffering and a concern for bolstering oneself against despair”.
Unknown author of quotes at The Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 2014

Barnett Newman, Joseph Beuys, Yoko Ono and David Hockney are among the artists who influence all that I do, every day.

“I hope that my painting has the impact of giving someone as it did me, the feeling of his own totality, of his separateness, of his own individuality, and at the same time of his connection to others, who are also separate… I think you can only feel others if you have some sense of your own being.”
Newman Barnett, Barnett Newman, Selected Writings and Interviews, California: University of California Press, 1990, p257-8