In my mind’s eye, I’m on the cusp of a realm of my own making; complete with its own air, light, and living beings. In my physical life, I’m stepping from a career as an artist educator to one as a full-time studio artist. This work is born from the excitement and risk of the radically new, the big swings and awkward firsts of standing on a threshold and gazing into the wilds ahead.

To map this visual journey, I’ve been teaching myself a new tool: the delightful and somewhat clumsy oil stick. It’s a medium that blurs the lines between drawing and painting: it’s capable of lyrical and decisive lines, but can also be fuzzed about for days after the initial application.

In developing my way of making “painterly drawings,” I’ve continued with my long-time interest in world-building..this time with a focus on capturing environments with a specific, evocative quality of light. An enticing vantage point to gaze into a world of unnamed beings and structures.

My process relies heavily on a thought experiment: if I encountered an alien world, how would I describe my surroundings when all existing points of reference are useless? I imagine myself as a cartographer way out of my league, or a biologist fumbling their samples. There is an inherent physical comedy to exploring the unknown—not unlike my first few attempts at scuba diving—and I actively nurture that sense of humor and openness in the studio.

My creative process in this series is heavy on the visual editing, and teasing out the forms from an initial flurry of marks and color. It’s not unlike the trial and error of becoming a full-time artist. There’s value in being methodical, but there’s a thrill to dipping your hands into the muck and fishing around for something shiny to cherish.

-Jamie Treacy, 2026