​Hello Art friends!

I am so excited to announce the pre-sale of my hybrid art/kids book is LIVE. If you have ever loved my art, (or me!), I ask that you support this little book! The link to purchase is here and also at the bottom of the newsletter. I am so darn proud of this project!

So, a little background. When I was little, I used to draw these little creatures with fuzzy hair and eyes and legs but no arms. I called them Pillowpuffs and imagined that they lived outside in nature. Now and again as I grew up, I would find myself doodling them (including on my law school notebooks! Ha!). A few years ago when my first daughter was two, I started reading to her a lot. As she became a three-year-old and a four-year-old, our tastes in books sometimes diverged. It was always so magical when we both wanted to read the same book – a beautifully illustrated book that held appeal for adults and children. Around this time some people were asking me if I was going to create books with my art in them. I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready for a large scale “serious art book”. And then the crazy idea occurred to me that I should merge these little Pillowpuffs with my art, so that children and adults alike would hopefully find delight, peace, and calmness in a book.

​Henri Matisse said “art is an escape from reality” but wouldn’t it be great if art just reminded us to shift our reality to the now? To stop worrying about what could happen and instead focus on the small and the beautiful? I need to do this as much as anyone! But here’s to trying. Reading this book – my book! – should help :)
 
Oh! And for the next two weeks my site is taking credit cards for smaller pieces! You can see them below. After ordering you can contact me directly about framing (which I offer) and shipping options.
 
As ever – thank you to those who read this! And to those who read this and respond! Very kind of you.
 
Much love,
Julia 

Hello Art Friends!
 
As I write this, the air quality in my hometown, Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA, is “unhealthy” and the sun is eerie, beautiful and golden-orange. Several weeks ago, it’s likely that you heard about the smoke that covered New York City and much of the US Northeast. Wildfires in Canada drifted down and a toxic veil of smoke created a spooky, dystopian scene. On one day (maybe several), NYC had the worst air quality on earth. The event marked the first climate-linked extreme weather event to hit both New York and Washington DC at the same time since Hurricane Sandy in 2012, presenting bankers and lawmakers in the country’s economic and political centers with an in-your-face look at the impacts of climate change.

Then of course just last week Vermont was inundated with rain and experienced massive flooding.

And nearly one-third of all Americans - over 100 million people - were under extreme heat warnings just this past weekend. In Phoenix alone, nearly 60 heat-related deaths are being investigated. Deaths due to extreme heat as a result of climate change are not part of some abstract, futuristic scenario - this is happening right now.

Now of course billions of people across the globe are dealing with the impacts of climate change on a daily basis, with floods, droughts, storms, and other extreme weather events disrupting their lives in ways that are often a matter of actual life and death. But we don’t hear much about this.

Climate change represents and perpetuates a massive global injustice. The chair of the United Nations Development Program explains that “while climate change is a global phenomenon, its impact on countries and communities will be very different.” Although wealthy G20 nations have emitted 75% of all greenhouse gas emissions, the impacts are disproportionately felt elsewhere. Africa as a continent contributes (by far) the least to climate change, but is the most vulnerable to its consequences. According to the World Bank’s projections, the effects of climate change could push another 100 million people into global poverty in just the next seven years. By just 2070 (!!!!!) one-fifth of the planet could be too hot to be habitable.

The media pays more attention when the victims are wealthier and lighter-skinned. It’s why we got non-stop coverage on the New York smoke blanket but didn’t hear a word about the cyclone in Mozambique earlier this year that killed thousands and displaced hundreds of thousands. This is really a microcosm for much of how our world functions, and it’s incredibly unjust and wildly unfair.

But perhaps things are changing? Many Americans are now experiencing the direct effects of climate change. Maybe this will impact which politicians they elect. It’s so important to think of this personally, concretely and not abstractly. Look outside. Walk outside. Breathe outside. Think of what we stand to lose. Look at your partner, your children, your grandchildren, your friends. Everyone who is young now will suffer the effects of climate change. The question is whether those effects will be little or big.

For the next five weeks (through the end of August), I will be donating 25% of all print sales AND 20% of all proceeds of the original paintings below to support Earth Justice and their incredible efforts in using the "power of law and the strength of partnership to protect people’s health, to preserve magnificent places and wildlife, to advance clean energy, and to combat climate change." 
 
If you’ve ever thought about purchasing one of my prints in the past, perhaps consider doing so now as we can collectively contribute to an impactful project.

At the very least, I hope this inspires some interesting conversations with friends or a self-reflection on our changing climate, its disproportionate impacts, and actions we may be able to take in our daily lives to create change.

Enjoy the summer months!

With love.

Julia

See a painting you love? Click on the 'contact' links below to email Julia an inquiry on the piece. There are prints available for some of these paintings as well, and if you are particularly interested in a print that doesn't exist yet, Julia may be able to make one for you. 

Price Range: $800 - $2,700
​

Hello art friends!
 
It’s March! If your corner of the world has been chilly, hopefully it’s starting to get warmer. Early Spring is a time of growth and rebirth. Plants and flowers are beginning to bloom and animals are emerging from the dormancy of winter. Two birds (maybe five, who knows) wake me up around 5:23 every morning just to mess with me. Then they stop chirping about three minutes before my baby wakes up. Sigh. The beauty (and noise!) of the world.
 
I’ve been thinking about the many balances of motherhood, specifically about time & energy and chaos & peace, and I wanted to share some thoughts in the hope that they may resonate.
 
One thing I’ve been thinking about is how and where to focus my time and energy. Parenting young children (and especially single parenting in my case) is many things, one of which is: relentless. The relentlessness of protecting, cuddling, serving, bathing, soothing, carrying, changing, holding, answering, securing, feeding, transporting, guiding, modeling. The relentlessness of the pull I feel towards each child, the pull towards painting, the pull towards self-care (have I read this week, have I done any meaningful exercise, when did I last shower, shouldn’t I meet some other thinking adults outside of my house now and then). And throughout all of this, I’m confronted with the worry around giving up precious work time (yes, I should meet my friends for a glass of wine just this once, but wait, I also need to paint for five hours so I can finish that piece and try to sell it to pay for my daughter’s summer camp). When you’re a parent and when you solely support your family, everything you do has an opportunity cost. The scarcity of time and energy heightens the importance of time and energy. The idea of simply sitting outside on a sunny day and looking up at the clouds seems preposterous. Who has the time?
 
But of course, we all have the time. And if we don’t, we must make the time. We must find some peace within this chaos. I mean for goodness sakes the reason I paint what I paint is to soothe and slow, to help people quiet the noise around them.
 
Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about Fred Rogers, or “Mr. Rogers”. When I was a kid, I didn’t like his television show, Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood (and I’m not even sure why), but I always liked him. When I was older, I read about him and learned that he’s this amazing, brilliant individual who should have been President because he would never abuse his power and he was just so good – but of course he never would have won because he’s too kind.
 
Anyway, he has the perfect quote: “I’m very concerned that our society is much more interested in information than wonder. In noise, rather than silence…how do we encourage reflection? Oh my, this is a noisy world.”
 
My world is noisy. That’s okay and it’s also a bit hard to control right now because little ones are all about noise, metaphorically and actually. The world is also noisy, very noisy, and that’s also okay, but also easier to control (as in it’s easier to drown out). There are so many small, even unremarkable, things that we can do to find peace amidst the chaos, to push away the noise. Activities like painting (and looking at paintings!), gardening, drawing, making music, all have a meditative effect that grounds us in the moment such that we temporarily transport to a place of calm within the noise of our surroundings. A refuge from the noise, of sorts.
 
With that, I am just thrilled to announce a partnership with Jiggy Puzzles to showcase my paintings on two 500-piece jigsaw puzzles! This makes me particularly happy as I feel puzzling provides the same sort of slowing and soothing effect as looking at paintings, helping one get lost for a while. You can check out the puzzle with one of my Flower Fields paintings here and the puzzle with one of my River paintings here.
 
I can’t think of a better Mother’s Day present than that! wish you all some quiet amidst the noise and a lovely, warm Spring. As always, you can check out some of my latest pieces below and feel free to reply to this email with any questions or thoughts.
 
With love.
 
Julia

See a painting you love? Click on the 'contact' links below to email Julia an inquiry on the piece. There are prints available for some of these paintings as well, and if you are particularly interested in a print that doesn’t exist yet, Julia may be able to make one for you.

Last week, I was invited to chat with Jennifer Brown, director of BACA Wines. In what has now become a common interview platform in this age of COVID, we spoke over Instagram Live. After talking about my professional journey (and talking about wine with Jennifer!), we opened the chat up to questions. Some of the questions kept me thinking long past the initial discussion, so I thought it would be fun to explore them further, particularly those questions pertaining to reinvention and regret.
 
When I was younger, I never felt like I was meant to be an artist. I grew up in an environment with a heavy focus on academic success, and although I painted as a hobby, the idea of painting professionally was never considered. I went on to study history at Yale (which I loved – often I wonder if should have been a history professor), then law at Stanford, and I began a career as a lawyer in NYC at a white-shoe firm shortly thereafter. Although not forced upon me, it felt as though this was the path that was expected of me, and I followed accordingly. 

I would paint watercolors on the side, whenever my career afforded me the free time to do so. I even painted some wedding and baby shower invitations for friends and family. But that was really the extent of it. 
 
Eventually I moved back to Boston and worked at a smaller firm with a boss I adored. Although I had a nice career with a fancy-looking CV, I was unhappy. I felt as though I was not making my mark on the world, whatever that meant at the time. And, day to day, I didn’t always love what I was doing. 
 
Then my brother bought me an easel and oil paints and canvases for my birthday and Christmas (they are five days apart) and told me I had talent (very nice of him since I had never painted in oils … ) and that I should really try to see if I liked the medium.
 
So I tried it. And I liked it. And then I loved it. I read so many books on landscape painting. I looked at YouTube and most of all, I experimented ALL the time with different techniques. I did not paint well when I first started. I wasn’t sure about perspective. I didn’t know about gesso or underpainting or how to clean my brushes. Almost from the beginning though, I cared about color. And texture. The colors and the layers had to be “right” on the canvas. And I kept layering and layering until I was satisfied. I was working all the time – practicing law and then painting in the evenings and on weekends. And it just sort of started to click. My friends were meeting men and having babies. I wanted to meet someone but more often than not I ended up just working on how to become a better painter.
 
My two older brothers bought all of my early works, which were probably (mostly) garbage but showed maybe some early eye or talent for color. And I always had my own voice when painting. I didn’t care really in the beginning how my stuff looked because I wasn’t “supposed” to be a painter after all. I wasn’t trained! I think that gave me a lot of freedom to break some rules. I wasn’t bound by shoulds. Now of course, as a full time artist, I am much harder on myself and much more aware of how my work is perceived by the average viewer and by more traditional art gatekeepers (art advisors, curators, jurors). But still, what a blessing. I know I am very lucky. This is a career I had never even entertained as an option in my teens and twenties. 
 
I am often asked, and I often think about, whether I regret the path I was on prior. If I wish I could take back the decade of schooling and working I spent without taking a single art class. If I wish I could have just jumped into painting sooner – in high school even. If I think putting myself into massive debt to go to law school, only to then quit the profession altogether, was a massive mistake. No, no, no. no. I have few regrets. And I don’t see those choices as mistakes at all. Everything I’ve done in my past has made me who I am today, every step I took was, in fact, a step in this direction, even though it may not immediately appear so. To regret what you cannot change is just wasted energy. 
 
As you move forward, and you enter a new career or you otherwise reinvent yourself or leave a relationship, you come to realize that everything you’ve done along the way has gotten you to where you are now. You are you. Now. With all the layers. Every choice I made simply informs who I am now, and I think about that in my art too, as I paint multiple textured layers, one on top of the other, to create some of my favorite pieces. Every mark and color and form I add to the canvas is not a mistake, even if it is entirely painted over, as the texture remains and informs the next layer. Most of my best works are three to five full paintings painted on top of one another - in essence, each layer informs the next, both in my works and in my life.
 
Across my website and Instagram (and below in this post!) there are several paintings that have multiple layers of paint informing the final layer. Can you spot them? Hint: click on each piece to find out! 
 
In the next few months, I’ll be breaking ground on my dream studio (more on this soon!), a goal I had set for myself early on along this path. To me it was an indicator of success, one of the key moments that would tell me I’ve made it as an artist. I expected it would take 15-20 years or more, yet here we are less than ten years later. Less than a decade after my brother gave me an easel and oil paint for Christmas and believed in me enough to set me on this journey. 
 
And finally, along that note, that is my real big advice to all of you out there. Surround yourself with positivity. My own voice may be negative at times – we all have a bit of imposter syndrome or doubt every now and again – but when I listen to my friends or family or see how my daughter looks at me (or witness my dog looking at my work haha), all of it is overwhelmingly positive. You have to surround yourself in life with people who think you’re amazing! It’s one of the best ways to respond to the small voice that sometimes tells you you’re not good enough.
 
I will be speaking at Lesley University as part of its signature Strauch-Mosse Visiting Artist Lecture Series on the evening of April 14 (https://lesley.edu/news/lesley-announces-spring-2021-speakers). More on that through my Instagram account @juliaspowellart, website, and my next newsletter. My talk will delve deeper into regret and reinvention and roads taken and not taken! And there will be lots of time for questions.
 
Can’t wait to chat more! Thanks for reading – and responding. I appreciate you all so much!
 
Julia

Seven and a half months ago I gave birth to my daughter, Auden. Three months ago, a deadly infectious virus sent the world into a mad, physical distancing frenzy. Needless to say, it’s been an interesting time in my life – and in all of yours as well, I’m sure.
 
It’s been quite some time since I’ve reached out to share thoughts or new works or little ideas and tidbits of inspiration. This period has allowed me to reflect on several aspects of my life and art, and I hope that in sharing these reflections and new works, I can help spark some joy in your lives right now.
 
I had a bit of a revelation the other day thinking about a (the?) unifying theme in my work, whether it be water reflections, looking up at trees, waterlilies, birches, flower fields or sunsets/sunrises. All of these images resonate strongly with childhood. What if all I am doing is trying to get back to that feeling of wonder and freedom we all felt as kids interacting with nature? I remember gazing into the deep blue of a lake or a pond as the light jumped across the water. I remember lying on my back on the grass, looking up at trees or out into wildflower fields. I remember staring out over the abyss of the ocean as the sun set across the horizon, watching the water and the sky meld together. I remember being bored at times, and also amazed at times. Bored and hot and lost in thought in summer as frogs or flies skipped across the water. Bored but also filled with wonder. Time would slow down, and yet at the end of the day I wondered what had happened to all of that time. And I realize that there is nothing more wonderful or calming than watching the natural world around me sing, dance and occasionally, remain still.
 
This morning I watched my daughter pick up a roll of paper towels, fascinated by the texture, softness, patterns, bounce, and shape. This simple household item that so many of us never really think about managed to entertain her for forty-five minutes. I’m struck by her wonder at everything and everyone – she has a deep appreciation for even the most mundane things because it is all new to her. As I reflect on the beauty of this, particularly when framed in the context of the current global situation, I realize that we, too, can remind ourselves to return, every now and then, to this childlike state of unburdened wonder. So many of us right now are finding deep gratitude for family, friends, neighbors, and colleagues, realizing just how much we miss contact with others. We hope we will never take anything for granted again. Just as everything is ‘new’ for Auden, so many experiences will *hopefully feel ‘new’ to us when we emerge from this period.
 
Perhaps this time of uncertainty, forced separation and total elimination of so many events and happenings will help us all think about childhood. Perhaps it will help us remember the slow pace of life, the beauty of a lily pad or the changing colors of a tree, and give us an appreciation for the simple and quiet things that make life wonderful.
 
My Flower Fields Series (and others I will share in the coming weeks) is inspired by memories of childhood, looking out into fields or gardens and watching the colors and bees and the wind fly and flutter about. Perhaps today you will notice the flowers on your way to take out the trash, appreciate a sunset or sunrise just one day this week, or pause to look up at the trees above you as you take a walk. Perhaps you will feel unburdened, if only for a brief moment. And with each of these little moments, perhaps you will remember what it was like to be a child on a hot summer day when you had nothing to do but dip your toes in the water and watch the breeze lazily wave through the leaves.