Josh Jensen is an abstract painter whose work has evolved from figurative oil to mixed media painting focused on color and movement, informed by his career as a marriage and family therapist. Jensen finds that his work as a psychotherapist influences his artistic process by making him focus on a balance between chaos and order, spontaneity and intention. His painting involves a balance of intuitive exploration and intentional application as he aims to create pieces that are both aesthetically pleasing and meaningful. In his current painting practice Josh favors work with acrylics for their vibrant colors and versatile flow.

Q:  What is a day in your studio like? 

A:  A typical day in the studio begins with a cup of coffee and a journaling practice similar to what Julia Cameron suggests in The Artist’s Way. After that, I turn on some music and usually try to start something new rather than refining or reworking a piece that’s already underway. After a couple of hours, I might shift to working on a different piece that’s in process, whether it’s in the middle or later stages. I find that starting at 70 mph and then moving to a slower pace throughout the day gives me the best momentum. As my energy naturally fades, I can focus on tasks that require more refinement. Depending on the day, I might also work on my online course, which involves editing, filming, and writing. About two-thirds of the time, I’m fortunate enough to finish the day with a long walk and a sauna session with my wife in our backyard.

Q:  Can you take us through your process and how you make choices as you paint?  How do you know when a painting is finished?

A: I tend to make decisions only one or two steps ahead of where a piece currently is, so I rarely know where it’s going at the beginning. It becomes clearer as the work evolves.

I may feel excited about trying a new paint, tool, strategy, or combination of things I’ve used before, so I try to let curiosity lead the charge and allow myself to be as impulsive as possible. Once I make a particular set of moves or marks, I consider what I like about them and how to continue in that direction. I know a piece is finished when I like it. This involves experiencing it from many different angles, moments, viewpoints, and spans of time. I ask myself questions about the composition and color, what it evokes, how I imagine it hanging in a space, and whether I could make it any better without transforming it into a different painting. I look at the piece on the ground from every angle, on my phone, under low light, from twenty feet away, six inches away, and so on. The greater the variety of experiences I have with it, the more clarity I gain about whether to keep working or move on. I also work on roughly six to ten different pieces in the studio at a time. I may not work on all of them in a single day, but rotating between them gives me the most energy and helps me get stuck the least.

Q:  How do you determine the color palette of a painting?

A:  I don’t determine full color combinations ahead of time. I’ll use reference books if I’m stuck or unsure how to balance combinations that aren’t quite working. 90% of the time, I start with a color I really like and that feels versatile. Blues, for example, tend to be easy to move in many directions, whereas reds or purples are often more difficult to make work.

Q:  Do you have a favorite artist or artists?

A:   There are many artists from history, as well as artists working today, whom I love. Historically: Mark Rothko, Cy Twombly, Helen Frankenthaler, and Robert Motherwell have been especially influential. All are associated with Abstract Expressionism, but artists like Edward Hopper, M.C. Escher, and Matisse—though quite different—will always be among my favorites as well. Contemporary artists I admire include Richard Whadcock, Richard Claremont, Jason Craighead, and Benet.

Q:  What inspires you to keep painting when there are so many mediums and options to choose from?

A:  It’s often suggested that to become an expert, you need to hone in on one craft and push it to an extreme, like building a skyscraper straight up into the heavens. That approach doesn’t align with my natural temperament, and I’ve found it can lead to burnout and a lack of the broader skillset needed to continue exploring and pushing the work forward. I think of my creative development more like a pyramid, with a very wide base. This means dabbling in many things I’m not particularly good at. As you move upward, painting sits at the top. Over time, those other pursuits begin to build on one another, and very gradually the top of the pyramid rises as well—just at a slower pace than it might if I were devoted solely to painting.