In the odd, passing moments of life, I hone in on expressions that reveal breaks in the usual protective veneer we collectively adopt.

Some sections are left unfinished, others highly rendered.  The level of finish is symptomatic of an evolving collaboration with the organic drawing 'style' present in the wood itself. I leave woodgrain as landscape to influence composition.

I often paint girlfriends of mine, artists or writers who have an inherent ferocity that they must let out - girls who shouldn't leave the house like that... what would people think?  Choosing in-between, raw expressions is my way to applaud something fiercely real and un-simulated.  Through my subjects, I grapple with stark, uncontrollable emotions, lost love, irrevocable choices, and the personal loss of innocence.  Inherent in these themes is my own intractable march, from the near-feral state of a young girl growing up in stark nature, to a civilized, compromised condition.

A poured coat of resin embalming bare woodgrain suggests what I consider to be a defining trait of our culture--the paradox of slick plastic surface beauty with the prevalence of dead surfaces.  Nothing will ever grow from this particular piece of wood again, as the polymer coating will not biodegrade. 

My paintings are not grand.  Every portrait is a small exaltation of a moment in which light, wind, water or emotion brought a human psyche to pause it's viscerally competitive march. Slipping sideways, I fall into a mess of tangled hair, or escape into the wind.

Jazz-minh Claire Moore was born on a hippie commune in the old redwood forests of Oregon, and raised in a small house on a dirt road near San Diego, surrounded by fruit trees. She currently lives in Manhattan's Greenwich Village.