Jelly Green

Jelly Green
jelly_green_1992@hotmail.co.uk
www.jelly-green.com


John Fowles: “Trees are like humans: they need their pasts to feed their presents”

Jelly Green
Leaves in an English Wood, watercolour on paper, 2015, 29 x 151 cm

I have always been drawn to woodlands. That sense of stepping into another world, another story: a place of mystery, bursting with a vibrancy and life that feeds the imagination and palette.

Jelly Green
Puzzlewood, oil on canvas, 2016-2017, 152 x 183 cm

As a child, I spent long periods of time in a native British woodland on my Grandparents farm in Suffolk. Over the course of the year I would watch the leaves change colour: the vivid green canopy of oaks, ashes and hornbeams in the summer months gradually fading away as the autumn approached, until all that was left were the bones of the trees, brittle against a grey sky, and the occasional drumming of pheasants battling with the branches overhead. The melancholy of winter then giving way to hope as tree buds begin to unfurl in the spring. British trees and woodlands are markers. They mark time and place. This is something that I try to reflect in my work. 

Jelly Green
Ancient Oak Glemham 2, charcoal on paper, 2015, 84 x 60 cm

I carried this woodland within me when in 2015 I went to Brazil to paint the rainforest. Nothing, prepared me for the explosion of colour and sound on my arrival. The denseness of light and dark, the sheer scale of the trees, was both breathtaking and humbling, and inevitably, hugely inspiring for my work. It is difficult to conjure that sense of ‘being' - of living and working in such an enormous ‘organism’ that sustains so much life. Each tree is an entire world in its own right, its trunk and limbs home to monkeys, bats, spiders, sleuths, moths, parrots …. Night as busy, if not busier than day. 

Jelly Green
Winter Rendham 1, oil on canvas, 2013, 13 x 18 cm

When beginning a piece of work I usually start by making several charcoal drawings and smaller oil or watercolour paintings with the subject in front of me. I then take these studies back to my studio to work from for a larger canvas. I find working in-situ incredibly important as it keeps a painting moving, there is a real sense of immediacy when painting outdoors. Landscapes change enormously throughout a day, one minute it can be wonderfully bright and then suddenly completely darkened by a passing cloud. This can at times be very frustrating but also very freeing, it helps to keep the paint fresh, which when working in the studio can have habit to become overworked.