happenings. They are like movie stills of observed and imagined events.
Images that span centuries are contained within the pages here, with references as wide-ranging as Henri Matisse to Kim Kardashian. They are sexy and coy, voluptuous and intriguing, and compellingly colorful. Take for instance the art on the cover: “Reflection Photo.” An Asian lady with wildly painted fingernails aims her camera at the viewer. What does she see? Do you know her? The painted collages contain puzzles, both straightforward and mysterious. But Jeanne’s titles often offer clues: “A Weekend Retreat” takes the viewer to Matisse’s “Interior at Nice” (“Intérieur à Nice”). “Relax by the Pool” invites one to sink into a sumptuous red velvet divan. Pathways to unknown destinations and music of the universe are contained within “Hidden Pool Hour.” Over her career, Jeanne has cut a wide swath of achievements across feature films, theater, and decorative and fine art. Everything is fodder for the artist’s prismatic collages, which she describes as “mini stage sets that tell a story.” She is always on the lookout for material. “Making art is an unconscious and conscious practice. I rely on my work to inform me of my reality, and not the other way around.” But while some pieces are culled from her subconscious, others seemingly “drop down from the jet stream of universal knowledge.” The latter totally surprises Jeanne, who says she feels as though she is being asked to be a messenger. The body of work in this book takes on contemporary society and its “outra- geous record of social velocity, the likes of which we’ve never experienced be- fore. Sometimes the mood is creepy,” she adds. “Other times it is amusing. The more twists the better! A humorous title helps explain my vision. Levity as an antidote to everyday living.” Having once spent a year with her husband and son on the Basque coast, Jeanne listens to Spanish podcasts instead of music in her studio. “Listening to podcasts not only helps me maintain my Spanish—it also quiets my inner critic. There’s no room for music in my workspace; the only rhythm I want
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