Jenna Gribbon
It's difficult to know where to start when discussing Jenna Gribbon, as she stands at the shimmering point of several convergences in my life. Many of you may be familiar with the textile images she's created for one of my favorite designers, Samantha Pleet. She is also one half of the wife and husband art duo who ran The Oracle Club, a surrealist wonderland / shared working space I was fortunate to be a member of before it tragically closed earlier this year. I mourn it daily, especially now that I'm in the throws of writing a book and have found that every other work space near me has a woefully astringent, IKEA-tech aesthetic. I long for its bookshelves, its green velvet chairs, its black and white harlequin floors, its giant plants.
Mostly, I long for Gribbon's paintings, which graced its walls in all of their creamy, dreamy glory. Each piece felt like a fragment from a feminist banquet, lavishly viewed through the female gaze. Her newest work celebrates friendship, motherhood, and woman as her own muse. I love the way she mixes styles and colors, throwing back to earlier art movements, while adding her own modern magic. Looking forward to whatever she makes next.
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