How To Blow Up Your Life

When I first started the Vasari21 website, nearly a decade ago, my aim was to showcase exceptional artists who don’t often make it into the mainstream press (which grows daily more indifferent to culture). So I continue the tradition with this Substack from time to time, and am pleased to present an essay about the joys of dislocation from British-born artist Jane Barthès, now happily relocated to the Isle of Wight, about three hours southwest of London. Lucky girl! AL

While putting a few words together about why I made my recent move to the United Kingdom and how it has changed my work, I unearthed some pertinent themes that apply presently as well as to my entire life. I’ve moved a lot, and my art has shifted greatly too. Drawing, however, has remained constant, and line has provided the thread that holds it all together. Bouncing off my wife, Chris, the gist of the draft of my essay led to some clarity about my life in ways I hadn’t quite grasped. Much as I believe that my life had been molded by economic and political forces beyond my control, she reminded me that there is an additional theme I must acknowledge: I need to be free!

I started making art in the early 1980s because I wasn’t initially allowed to go to art school. There was to be no discussion on the matter. Frustrated, I began creating graphic tales in the evenings after work. I had a master’s degree in social anthropology but chose temporary secretarial work—again, to my parents’ chagrin—for several years, to reserve all the time and energy I could for my art. During this time, the persona, Mona, was born to star; she was reputedly a bit of a moaner, just as her name would have us believe. For years I would craft her adventures sitting on my bed, smoking roll-ups. At the time, I considered graphics secondary to the art I truly aspired to, so I eventually found the courage to go to art school—without parental permission—to obtain a degree in painting in 1994, in London, and never looked back...until now.

After graduating, I went to live in France, where I spent the next ten years breaking down my figurative work. I was fascinated to discover what lies behind form—matter and energy, as it turns out--only to reinstate it front and center in my work years later in Chicago. Someone once remarked that a bomb had gone off between my initial years of figurative and abstract work. The same might be said now

Briefly: I moved from France in 2004 to New Mexico, where I met Chris and spent five years exploring the energy of the desert before moving to Chicago in 2009—a necessary response to the Great Recession. Chicago became home for fifteen years.

Chris was able to develop her career in IT, while I set about soaking up my new environment: the city of Chicago, a stunning architectural jewel. Although fully occupied in other ways and unable to afford to paint for a while, a murky, creative little puddle at the back of my brain never went to sleep. I loved the architectural boat trips through the city and remember being suddenly quite disorientated for a moment on one such trip. The brilliant sunshine hit the gridded patterns of windows on the iconic high-rise buildings that line the river. The windows wobbled and bent in the reflections of each other, on the water and up into the sky. Nothing was still and everything weirdly became one—including me—a scintillating mass of patterns and energy. I call it a numinous experience. It encapsulated the essence of Chicago and formed the basis of a new language in my work.

The lyrical beauty of the geometric patterns and shapes soon became a metaphor through which to explore the growing political and social dissonance that was reverberating ever more loudly. Orange Turd came to power, not once, but twice during my time in Chicago. I painted enormous canvases with an intensity I imagine almost equal to that of Picasso painting the Guernica. The cracks, leaks and spaces that appeared between the solid, pristine forms spoke of the underlying fragility of society and warned of possible future chaos. I was sadly not mistaken.

Art isn’t created in a void and surviving the socioeconomic and political winds has been challenging at times. Covid arrived next in 2020 to knock the world a little further off its feet. Art institutions came to a standstill. I continued to paint, but my enthusiasm was waning as were my funds. One bright spot, however, was an invitation to contribute to an epic mural that extends an entire block in downtown Chicago, “The Oprah Mural.” I pushed myself to apply for the usual round of shows, museums and universities, and was accepted here and there, but I admit that I lacked all enthusiasm to pound on people’s doors anymore, and no one seemed to share my sense of urgency about the state of our democracy. Low on self-esteem, I tumbled into a period of inertia. With hindsight, I had exhausted my Chicago chapter. However, my last show and talk, given at the Illinois Governor’s State University, provided a fitting end. The audience was receptive and I walked away with my head high but not the will to continue. I hasten to add that I’ve never felt equipped to compete in this economy in ways required of an artist today. I find it exhausting at best.

In 2025, as a woman, and a naturalized US citizen in a same-sex marriage, I became frightened, watching in disbelief as my rights, everyone’s rights, began to dwindle by the day under the current administration. The reaction was visceral; I felt a constriction in my belly that never let up; it was becoming bad for my health. Having been subject to the whims of a violent, narcissistic father, I’m endowed with super-sensitive radar, and remain allergic to the idea of being controlled by anyone. I brought up the idea of leaving the US with my wife in early 2024, but she had other priorities: a mother of 102 and her impending retirement. I had to be patient. A year later, in 2025, she was ready. I was ecstatic! A return to England seemed an obvious choice, even after 31 years of absence. I’m so lucky to have options, although my heart is utterly squeezed when I think of all the people I love that I’ve left behind. I know Chris suffers this sadness too.

Further to this dystopian backdrop, a more personal reckoning was brewing. At 65, I was beginning to contemplate the inevitable question of how to age with a little grace. Knowing that a day would come when I wouldn’t want to be up a ladder all day working large, I turned my thoughts small. Thus, Mona, the persona born in the 1980s, has been resurrected; the difference is that she’s become unapologetically me this time around. Through this two-dimensional, rubbery, linear character operating in a three-dimensional and often abstract world, I can reflect and expound upon anything I choose: the art world, aging, life in general, and, overarchingly, what it is to be human…all with a little humor, I hope. I’m also interpreting a couple of fables, “The Red Shoes,” and “Bluebeard.” The artwork doesn’t betray my passion for drawing. Line can be used sparingly to get a point or emotion across, just as it allows me to thread my art into something new. I bring 40-odd years of fine art to this new work; nothing is wasted or lost. It will busy me for years to come. Weirdly, my life and art seem to be turning full circle, but it feels very new too.

Ensconced on the stunning Isle of Wight since December 2025, at once away from the fray snd yet connected to London and Europe, we’re creating a garden, a home, and a studio with a view of the sea. We walk on the beaches and cliffs daily and I’m at peace. We can’t quite believe our newfound joy. Orange Turd’s decisions affect us all, so nothing is certain, but we’re sliding into our new life with curious ease. Our environment is worlds away from Chicago city vibe. The art made there would make no sense here. Rupture was inevitable.

I’ve learned that every geographical port of call presents an opportunity. I’m curious and deeply sensitive to my surroundings. Change can be daunting, but it seems that I keep inviting it into my life. My wife points out that I’m always looking to upend ways of doing everything—even a recipe! Perhaps I do need to blow up my life and my art every now and then. Curiosity sends me down some fine, deep burrows of enquiry which inevitably lead to more. That’s a precious freedom I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Leave a comment

If you have an idea for an essay you’d like to see published here, I’m all ears…and eyes. I might even pay you a small honorarium and for sure I will feature your work. Just email me at ajlandi33@gmail.com.