by Ricardo Acevedo

In the parking lot of Jeanne's apartment complex, a worn, nondescript, overtly dittoed '70s era environment, with the prerequisite mixture of banda music and hip-hop percolating amongst tired trees, I wiped my brow and upper lip and redialed the number.

"Ah, hey Jeanne, it's Ricardo again. Half these doors are missing numbers. So once again, you're where?"

"Down the hallway just off the court yard, number 16. I'll watch for you."

I find it. It's a dark hallway, shaft like. And at the very end, the door.

Jeanne pulls the door wide, my knock never reaching it. The spartan living room is cave-like dark with a hazily lit kitchen. Everything smells of oils and turpentine.

I'm led through a land mine of shed-off "things." She smiles and offers me water. Her copper wired tresses appear to glow in the dark. I rub my eyes and she leads me to the back, to her studio.

The door opens and I feel as though I've stepped through a physical texture as I cross the threshold. Colors explode with salon style work, framed and un-hung like a puzzle being formed on a chessboard. And in the center rests a battered easel and well-worn stool. Jeanne sits. My eyes adjust.

"Wow," I finally comment, sitting and drinking my water. "May I take a better look?" I point at the work. Her cat jumps on her lap and they smile.

ADA: I noticed that in your work there appears to be distinct and quite diverse personalities.

JH: Yeah, there's a few up on those walls.

ADA: Do they have names?

JH: Well, ya know...let's see. There's the Bag Lady. There's Mulva. She's the extrovert that might go to an erotic art show, me when I get all dressed quite fancy. And then there's Quirky Bimbo, when I'm goofing around with my friends. But since I've moved here I don't really socialize as much. So she doesn't really surface often. Or let's see. There's Sylvia Pathos who lives in a world where everything is very heavy and dreary. All these different selves come from reading Julia Cameron's books in which she writes about unblocking your creative self by naming those different selves and discovering how they work together.

ADA: Which is the most comfortable?

JH: Well, then there's Natural Woman, who I guess is who you're talking to now.

ADA: I've noted that a lot of people misconstrue your art as primarily sexual.

JH: Well, yes and no. It's all perceptual. Yes, that is a part of my work, an energy that comes through with who you are. A beautiful thing about creativity and/or the appreciation of it is that it all comes from some sort of sublimated sexuality. It's not just all hormones. It is a driving force in life but there is so much more to everything.

ADA: OK, let's talk influences.

JH: Well there's Balthus, the way he moves between two worlds. From decorative dreamscapes to colorful paint on paint...Yeah, the richness of color. I also love Van Gogh's exploding landscapes and Hopper's sense of mystery. That I really love.

ADA: Well, do you go through modes in which you say, "OK, now I'm going to paint abstract, now I'm going to do self portraits"? How do you approach your process?

JH: Sometimes just the act of picking up a brush or pen brings out its own direction. Like take my Dreamscape series. They appear safe in their size. I can get intimate and close to them because of their size. But by being so intimate, deeper things come out in their pen, ink, wash and sometimes oil medium. I don't always know where I'm going in these works. It's a lot like automatic writing. I'll be working on a little piece and be shocked when I discover the hours that have passed.

ADA: And do these Dreamscapes sell?

JH: Yeah, well my work over all is just beginning to sell.

ADA: What type of person is drawn to your work?

JH: People are more drawn to the oils, the vibrancy of the colors.

ADA: The vibrancy in the people?

JH: I guess. I still haven't found a market for the Dreamscapes though.

ADA: And yet you seem to do more of those than even the self-portraits.

JH: Oils take more time, and you know, I think all art is self-portraits, in one way or another.

ADA: We all walk around in a dream-state?

JH: Well, I certainly walk around a lot.

Jeanne Hospod's work can be viewed at the 503 Coffee Bar and Gallery Lombardi in August and at the F8 Gallery in October.