When looking at Jill Andre’s art, we are invited to ask ourselves: Do I know her? Who is she? Is she me? The women in Andre’s current body of work are not in a relationship with anybody but themselves. Are they mothers, daughters, wives? We just don’t know. These are private moments that are being shared.
For the past fifteen years, Andre has been life-drawing models, performers, and dancers in motion. From these tens of thousands of drawings, only a few get distilled into paintings. Because she draws moving models, Andre captures her figures in those positions and spaces between poses that we often feel, but rarely see. She conveys the vulnerability of the model, the artist, and the viewer to create a shared and intimate insecurity.
Andre lures us into her square compositions by placing her childlike figures in a world of tasty color. Once within the painting, however, it is the emotional tension that holds and challenges the viewer. With luscious details in some situations, and obscured information in others, Andre’s narrative images, rather than feeling like short stories, feel like pages torn from a novel.
Growing up and painting in the Bay Area, Andre reveals the hidden underlying disquiet beneath the seemingly tranquil surface of suburbia.