Jess Currier was born in 1989 in Monterey, California and grew up amidst the rugged beauty of the Central Coast. Through a great deal of time spent alone outdoors in childhood, she formed a deep connection to the botanical world that sparked her longing to create and would later shape the direction of her work as an artist. In adolescence and young adulthood, she dedicated herself to several creative pursuits, ranging in media from photography to graphic design, though none captivated her as much as painting.
Can you share where you grew up and how this place influenced you and your art?
I was born and raised along California's stunningly beautiful Central Coast. As an only child with working parents, I spent a great deal of time exploring and playing by myself outdoors. Looking back, I think that time spent in solitude as a child in such a beautiful setting had a profound impact on who I am today. I was constantly noticing little details in the landscape, collecting interesting rocks and plants, and developing a deep appreciation for the natural world. Even before I knew I wanted to become an artist, I was learning to slow down and observe. Those early years are where my imagination and creativity were initially formed.
Ever since, nature has remained a constant thread throughout my work. While my paintings have evolved over the years, botanical forms continue to play a central role because they carry so much emotional weight for me. Flowers represent beauty, impermanence, memory, and resilience all at once. They have become the consistent visual language for exploring those themes and continue to feel like the best visual and metaphorical container for whatever I need to say, even as it evolves further.
When did you first become interested in painting and did you have any early influences?
I've always been drawn to creative work. Growing up I explored photography, branding, interior design, and just about anything that allowed me to make something with my hands. I was always practicing art in some form, but was such a perfectionist that I often gave up when I wasn’t immediately good at something. It wasn't until college that I finally tried oil painting, and I loved it enough to finally let myself be bad at something. Thankfully, I also loved it enough to practice until I got better. And once I really started working with oils, I never looked back. It felt like home.
What captivated me most was how physical the medium is. Oils invite you to slow down, to build an image gradually, and to really see light and form. I loved that there wasn't a shortcut. Every painting asked me to become a better observer.
Early on I was inspired by a wide range of painters, from the Impressionists to many contemporary figurative artists, but I think my greatest influence has always been curiosity itself. Every stage of my career has been driven by asking, "What happens if I try this?". That mindset has led me through landscapes, florals, portraits, and eventually to the work I'm making today. I can’t wait to see where it takes me next.
Your floral portraits are so unique. Where did the inspiration for your first one come from and did you know right away this would become an entire niche?
I had no clue. If anything, my career has been a series of experiments that slowly revealed a direction I never could have planned.
My interest in florals and portraits has always been there. I spent years painting small studies of both, so it felt like a natural evolution to bring those worlds together. During graduate school, I began a series of large-scale figurative paintings set within lush garden scenes, but when I lost access to my studio during the pandemic, I had to pivot. I was forced to work smaller, but I also felt compelled to shift the work conceptually to process what we were all experiencing.
I began photographing painting references by placing my models behind layers of translucent floral fabric. I became fascinated by the way patterns could both reveal and obscure the figure. This eventually led to a practice of creating layered references digitally before translating them into paint, and that exploration and play remains a big part of my process.
Today the flowers still function as much more than decoration. They interrupt the image, conceal and reveal the figure, and become a way of exploring themes of identity, memory, resilience, and the parts of ourselves that are constantly being reconstructed.
Looking back, I can see the thread connecting all of my earlier work, but I certainly didn't know it would become my signature. I think style is something you discover by following your curiosity long enough to notice what keeps calling you back. The answers to what's next are usually waiting for you in the work itself.
What is the #1 Eco-tip you would recommend to artists looking to have a more environmentally friendly studio? What are your favorite Natural Earth Paint products and why?
Find ways to use every bit of material you can. In my own studio, I try to make sure nothing is wasted. I sand down old unfinished paintings to reuse my panels. I extend the life of my oil paint between sessions by placing an open cap of clove oil inside my sealed palette box, which keeps the paint workable much longer. After workshops, I gather all of the leftover paint from my students and mix it into a beautiful neutral color that I use to tone canvases for future paintings. It's become one of my favorite little studio rituals. As often as possible, I try to find creative ways to ensure that surplus materials get a new life.
I also love that Natural Earth Paint creates products that make it easier to care for both ourselves and the environment without sacrificing quality. Eco-Solve has become a staple in my studio because it allows me to work with a reliable solvent when I need to while minimizing exposure to harsher materials. I'm also a huge fan of the walnut oil medium for glazing, oiling out, and prepping finished paintings for varnish.
Oils still often have a reputation for being unsafe to work with, but that myth is a remnant of a different time. There are so many safe, healthy materials we have available today! I love introducing students to products that help make oil painting feel more approachable.
Walnut Oil Medium, Eco-Solve, Natural Varnish
When did you decide you wanted to teach courses online? What has been your favorite part of teaching so far?
Teaching happened quite organically for me. As I shared more of my process online, people often kept asking the same questions, and I realized there was a real desire for thoughtful, encouraging education that helped make oil painting feel less intimidating.
I began with local workshops in Los Angeles in 2022, but eventually wanted to scale my approach to make it accessible to more people who loved the idea of working with oils but didn’t know where to start. I really just gathered and packaged all the guidance I wish I would have had when I started working with oils over a decade ago. This resulted in the launch of my Intro to Oil Painting course in 2025, followed by Expressive Portraits this last Spring.
The production process was a big learning curve and a lot of work, but I’m so proud of these courses. Creating them has been incredibly rewarding because I get to demystify a medium that many people assume is only for "real artists" or people with natural talent. I genuinely believe painting is a skill that anyone can develop through observation and practice.
My favorite part has been watching students surprise themselves. Seeing someone go from believing they "can't paint" to creating work they're genuinely proud of never gets old. It's a beautiful reminder that confidence often comes after showing up consistently, not before.
What does a typical “day in the life” look like in your studio?
My mornings begin with coffee and, most importantly, thoroughly snuggling my pets. I spend a bit of time tackling the necessary admin, answering emails, and getting organized before stepping into the studio. Some days I'm developing reference images, other days I'm working on a large painting, filming lessons for my courses, or preparing work for an upcoming exhibition.
No matter what deadlines are looming, I try to protect the few pockets of uninterrupted painting time I can get. That flow state you can reach while creating is the greatest treasure of a studio practice, and I do my best to keep it sacred. Painting asks for a tremendous amount of presence. Sometimes that looks like sustained effort and discipline. But it also often means sitting in stillness, staring at your work in progress and asking what it needs. Both are equally important.
How do you approach a new project or piece? Can you walk us through your creative process?
Most paintings begin with a question rather than a finished idea. I'm usually exploring a feeling, a concept, or a visual problem that I'm curious about.
From there I begin sourcing and creating references of models, flowers, and vintage fabrics before combining those elements digitally to build a unique image. The process gives me the freedom to experiment and play with composition, layering, and different forms of subtle abstraction while still grounding everything in observation.
Once I move to the canvas, the painting often takes on a life of its own. I work primarily alla prima, painting wet-into-wet one section at a time as I work my way across a large canvas. Even with careful planning, there's always room for unexpected moments, and some of my favorite passages happen when I respond to what the painting is asking for rather than trying to force my original plan.
What has been your biggest challenge as an artist, and how have you overcome it?
The biggest challenge hasn't been learning to paint. It's been giving myself permission to take up space and make the work I genuinely want to make.
Like many people, I've moved through periods of life where my sense of identity felt fractured by grief and loss. For a long time, I believed I needed to feel whole again before I could move forward. Painting shifted that understanding. It became a way of piecing things back together—of reclaiming agency and rebuilding a sense of self in real time, rather than waiting for some imagined moment of resolution.
That realization has reshaped the way I approach both my art and my career. Instead of resisting difficult emotions, I’ve learned to welcome them into the work itself. This is ultimately why I return again and again to flowers. For me, they embody the quiet decision to seek out beauty even in its impermanence. They serve as a reminder that hope is not something we simply encounter, but something we actively cultivate.
What advice do you have for artists who want to start their art careers but are unsure where to begin?
Start making art. Then make more art. So many artists wait until they feel ready before they begin sharing or pursuing opportunities, but confidence is usually the result of action, not the prerequisite for it.
Study the fundamentals. Paint often. Be willing to make hundreds of imperfect paintings. Every artist you admire has made far more unsuccessful work than you'll ever see.
And perhaps most importantly, don't rush to "find your style." Your voice isn't something you invent overnight—it's something that gradually emerges through years of consistency and genuine curiosity. It comes through focused, disciplined practice with a medium. If you keep showing up and making the work that honestly interests you, the patterns that make up your own unique perspective will emerge in time.
Where can our audience see more of your work?
You can find my paintings, upcoming exhibitions, online courses, and join my newsletter on my website at jesscurrier.com. I also share new work and glimpses into my studio practice on Instagram as @jesscurrierstudio, where I love connecting with fellow artists and collectors.
