Jodi Hays (b. 1976, Hot Springs National Park, Arkansas, United States of America) is a painter whose work is partly influenced by a southern/rural vernacular. Her work has been exhibited internationally including at the Wiregrass Museum, Michael Price Contemporary (Boston) and The Brooks Museum (Memphis). In addition to her work as a painter, Jodi was a founding member of COOP curatorial collective.

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“A tree is a resilient fighter.

Likewise poets, single mothers, and teachers.”

- CD Wright

Meridian, 24x18, oil on stretched fabric, 2020, Jodi Hays, To be shown in a project with Zieher Smith, date TBA

My work is rooted in abstraction and informed by landscape. I come from gardeners, teachers, believers, moon-lighting loggers, makers, healers, pharmacists and grocers--back when the kitchen and pharmacy were the same room. In many ways, I see my work as that “same room.” My studio is where ideas conflate, paintings rest and let me take a look at them over time, I read, I write. Thanks to the first month of quarantine (and a January 2020 visit to Eames Case Study House No. 8), I have a patio outside the studio door that greets the (now seldom) visitor.

Stumps and stacked work on paper circles (shown in Outskirts)

Hilton Als’s advice to young writers is true for all of us. “Think before you speak. Read before you think. Do the work. Do not react. Shut up. Don’t react. Read. Do the work. Think. Do the work.” My studio for now is a full twenty-two-pace commute from my home’s back door. Sometimes I walk out the front for a longer walk that stretches around the fig tree, the flowers, my attempts to attract hummingbirds and goldfinch, the rock path, my neighbor’s steps, the janky chainlink and trampoline, some trash.

entering my backyard studio, spring 2020

Quarantine has furthered an already immersive practice. I am grateful to be an artist, not only for the kind of processing it involves, but for communities around ideas and hope. Though I have loved the “flattened” spaces of virtual fairs, studio visits, artist talks and lectures via online, I miss the shared experience of reckoning with a work of art in my body, in the world, with my community. Als again, “My voice was always there, but I didn’t know what the story was. Or I was afraid of what the story was... And when you grow into your voice and find your voice, there’s your joy.” (Slidell, West Memphis) His is a reminder that my work is my joy, the best long-term commitment.

Text and Script collection (kid writing, hat patch, recipe)

I have a few quaint collections; artist books, Arkansas memorabilia, heirloom plants, textiles and family ephemera. I file through them and see what kind of mark making language is in there, and also in my hand and facture, and seek out connections and habits. If the flourish of a giant and beautiful Ab-Ex paint stroke is permissible, then so is the drag of a red pen through a discreet, left-handed home cook’s scrawl. Though I am sympathetic to Modernism, I am empathetic to letting it all in. As Mary Weatherford says of Eva Hesse, “Content is infinite”. I am learning how this can be, which means I am teaching it as well in a course round at studioELL.org, reminding myself how to be a painter.

Reader (pop. 98), dye on paper and fabric, 48”x48”, 2020

My next steps is to complete work for Teachable Moments, an exhibition at Stoveworks Museum. The work will combine ideas surrounding teaching, piles, shelves and detritus and a lot of what I have written here at Southern Heat Exchange. All other shows are backed up or cancelled, so I am open to suggestions.

VOTE reminder courtesy of Paul Collins, proof of a Goldfinch obsession courtesy me

Thank you, Catherine, April and the rest for the opportunity to write, to think, to do the work. I really, really, appreciate it. Should you want to follow along with my work and upcoming exhibitions you’ll find me @jodihayspainter or jodihays.com.