Jennifer Anderson
From her brave approach to sourcing sitters to her unconventional compositions, the Scottish portrait artist does things differently in her shared studio, as REBECCA BRADBURY discovers
Portraits are painted for a multitude of reasons. Maybe the aim is to depict a subject’s power and prestige or perhaps to capture the more elusive inner essence of a person. Some artists use them as a means of social or political expression, while others are more concerned with exploring how their own psyche connects to those under their gaze.
For Jennifer Anderson, one of the main motivators for painting portraits is the opportunity they present to create a connection between her subject and the viewer – an intention that has led to a variety of unconventional compositional choices.
From off-kilter figures and unresolved edges to forms left unpainted and large expanses of empty background, her various trademarks not only add a visual simplicity to the piece, but also remove the subject from a specific time and place, something she hopes makes for a more relatable artwork.
“By taking the detail and information out of the environment the figure is in, the figure becomes timeless,” she explains of her intentions. “There’s not that societal flow around them that causes us to make judgements. That adds to the connection you can have with a figure [in a painting], as you’re not in an obviously different place from them.”
For Jennifer, deciding what not to include in a portrait is just as important as figuring out what to keep in. Yet there is no sense of lack
or incompleteness in her works. Instead, the “less is more” mantra makes the quietly alluring expressions of her delicately rendered faces even more magnetic.
Take Downtime, for example, a portrait selected for the recent Royal Institute of Oil Painters’ Annual Exhibition 2021 [which runs until 5 December at London's Mall Galleries]. The lines describing the body are somewhat scratchy, brush marks are visible in the background and the head, squished up against the knees, is slightly cropped out of the frame. The tension this creates in the top left-hand corner of the painting draws us into the longing, ethereal gaze of the sitter.
Having painted portraits since her student days at Dundee’s Duncan of
Jordanstone College of Art in the mid-1990s, Jennifer believes this emotional connection she craves (and so adeptly creates) for the viewer begins with her own reaction to a subject. That thirst for authenticity leads her to bravely approach strangers who strike her as interesting when she is out and about in her native Glasgow, hoping they will agree to model for her in a photoshoot at her studio.
Jennifer’s studio forms part of a three-room flat in an old tenement building in Finnieston – an area of the city that was, she says, pretty rundown when she bought the property 15 years ago but is now considered to be one of the hippest enclaves in the UK.
Working in the other two rooms respectively are her brother-in-law and artist sister and, as it turns out, having a sibling on call across the hallway is extremely beneficial: “Sometimes you can go ‘canvas blind’ – in fact, in every painting I do – so it’s really handy to have somebody who knows what they’re talking about say, ‘That bit’s right and that bit’s wrong’. I can do the same for her too and we’re not going to take offence.”
Painting between the daily school runs with BBC Radio 4 for company, Jennifer sits at her easel on a paint-spattered office chair, regularly checking the reflection of her latest piece in a full-length mirror behind her to spot any mistakes it throws up. Also indispensable is an old chest of drawers with wheels attached that acts as a moveable storage solution
For Jennifer, deciding what not to include in a portrait is just as important as figuring out what to keep in
for her brushes and paints. One thing missing from here, however, will be a full spectrum of hues, as another standout feature of Jennifer’s portraiture is the limited colour palette from which she never deviates.
Narrowing down her colours was never a conscious decision. Back in art school, she simply only ever reached for the same three colours and has relied on them ever since, proving French Ultramarine, Yellow Ochre, Cadmium Deep Red, plus a white, are the only hues needed to capture the subtle tones of human skin. But how does Jennifer make the flesh of those she paints look so realistic?
“You’ve got to really look at your source material,” she advises. “There’s not much ‘flesh colour’
White fabrics have been a theme of my work for a long time now… You get such beautiful colours in white, like lilacs, pinks and greys
in flesh, it’s all different colours…
And when you break it down into those little patches of colour and get those on the canvas, when you step back it will look like skin.”
The same approach applies to the white fabrics that are another regular feature of her portraits. “That’s been a theme of my work for a long time now,” she agrees. “It’s really subtle but you get such beautiful colours in white, like the lilacs and the pinks and the greys. It’s about getting the colours down to such a minimal point, but still finding the range within that.”
It’s not all crisp white cotton, however. From Breton stripe tees to dresses adorned with abstract motifs, clothing is a tool Jennifer uses to define a shape or figure. Adding a big, structured collar in Saskia, for example, imparted an element of dynamism to that painting, while the saturated patterns of an outfit can also make a simple composition zing. Patterns often expand across the entire frame, obscured only by a figure.
Not content to solely commit her work to canvas, she turns to more off-beat materials for supports, sometimes choosing plaster for its unique texture. A time-consuming process, what with the priming required (using rabbit-skin glue), it can take up to a week to prepare a plaster board for painting.
On the other end of the scale are metal supports, which offer an element of spontaneity not usually known to oil painters. Jennifer glues thin sheets of brass, copper or aluminium to a wooden backboard, and the surfaces only need a quick clean and light sanding before paint is applied.
Cutting down on preparation time is not the only benefit: “Metal has a sheen, a warmth, a shine. If you work thinly in the shadows, this comes
through – you get a lustre that you don’t get on other surfaces.”
“The way you work on it as well must be very different as paint reacts differently, whether it’s a slippery surface or one that absorbs the oil,” she adds.
But aside from these factors, her process remains very much the same no matter what surface she uses. Working from her own photographs, she lays down the first layer quite roughly, blocking in the essential colours and shapes before leaving it to dry for a few days. Another layer follows, progressively getting more accurate with tones and colours before finessing the detail in the third and final layer.
Sketches rarely take place in the planning stages, as she prefers to resolve the drawing directly on the support. Jennifer does make an exception for commissions, as oil sketches provide a chance to share ideas and collaborate with her clients.
The artist avoided commissions for 15 years, as she found that they caused anxiety and stress that she was keen to avoid as a graduate fresh out of art school. “You’re painting something somebody else has an idea of in their head,” she explains, “and trying to live up to that is an entirely different prospect from painting what you want to paint for a gallery.”
After becoming more confident and comfortable with her approach, she returned to commissions in 2005 and she’s not looked back. “I actually quite enjoyed it, so I decided I would do one or two a year,” she recalls. This year alone she has been commissioned to paint the Nobel Prize-winning mathematician Sir Roger Penrose and the first female president of the Isaac Newton Institute, Professor Ulrike Tillmann. “You get to meet interesting people and it’s a different way of working,” she says. “It’s a challenge and that’s good for me.”
Finding joy, forging connections and flourishing outside of your comfort zone: these are even more reasons to paint portraits. www.jennifer-anderson.co.uk