A Layered Space: Outside (v.5)
Objects, architecture, and nature in and around her home inform Jennifer Arnold’s work. She translates close observation into photography, collage, and sculpture through a process-driven practice centered on a technique she developed called the Canvas Peel.
Beginning in 2007, Arnold’s photographic work led to the development of this photo-transfer process, in which an image’s pigment is suspended in varnish and released from its canvas support. Each subject—leaves, articles of clothing, or everyday objects—is photographed individually, printed on canvas, and then peeled away, resulting in a transparent, archival image-object. These pliable forms are arranged directly on the wall or attached to wire armatures, creating works that exist between image and sculpture, the real and the surreal.
Paper-thin and often double-sided, the Canvas Peel images resemble sheets of pliable plastic, transforming three-dimensional objects into floating, weightless forms. In large-scale installations, these elements come together to create immersive environments that viewers can move through—playful, disorienting spaces where familiar objects lose their expected volume and solidity.
A Layered Space: Outside (v.5) expands this approach by transforming plants and trees into elaborate, hybrid forms. Arnold combines real branches with Canvas Peel leaves and flowers from multiple species, alongside unexpected materials such as scraps from her Closet Series. Wedding dress satin, plaid, and denim are reimagined as foliage, collapsing distinctions between the natural and the domestic. Acting as a horticulturist of this strange landscape, Arnold aims to “almost overwhelm the viewer with a landscape totally twisted up—like elements our minds develop while we sleep, with blended memories and objects.”
Sometimes I want to just talk about plants.
It’s honesty I can trust, it’s truth I can see. A plant cannot lie to you; it’s either doing well, or not. Growth can be stimulated. Trimming, fertilizing, toiling, shading, exposing, moving, watering .... when sharing ideas with neighbors and friends, when we talk about plants.
Is this a metaphor? It is, but I just want to talk about plants.
I first uttered this statement at the beginning of lockdown in 2020. There was so much uncertainty in the world. I was stressed about my workstation at home, navigating the technology, reassuring and advising students, 24-hour news, the virus, the healthcare workers, Black Lives Matter, Me Too, the administration, (did he say to drink bleach?), masks, hand sanitizer, Hurricane Hannah, my family separated across the country, my friends, this girl I rented a room to (was she staying safe?), groceries, freezer paper, eggs...
What helped, was leashing up the dogs, and going for walks. I encountered neighbors and we chatted about plants. They were watering, or tending, I was walking and complimenting. Offering advice and receiving it. Upon returning to my driveway, I was thankful for the distraction. Happy to just talk about plants.
HEB, my church, was selling fiddle leaf figs for $10, if I recall. I snatched two and they became my muses. During lockdown I was busy working towards (v.4) when the plant pieces emerged. It was the breakthrough I had been seeking, fueling a pivotal turn.
I began to see the closet, and what it represented fading further away from my peripheral vision. Plants were the priority, but understanding what they meant, or represented, took some time. (v.4) opened in Dallas in 2023 in its largest format. The collection included all the elements of previous iterations AND expanded into the outside elements. Even during its run, I felt the importance of the closet mattered less and less to me and gave all its value away to the viewers. (Ya’ll, the feedback is incredible...what people say to me, what they share.....it’s incredible how this really hits the mark for people!)
By 2024, I began incorporating real branches and twigs into the plants marking another pivotal moment in my creative journey. Accidently trimming back the Esperanza one day, pulled out some branches too big for the bin. As I carried them to the side of the house, I thought....mmm... this could be a trunk. Branches along with Canvas Peel leaves and flowers from different species and elements that have nothing to do with plants at all: scraps from the Closet Series transformed into leaves: blue puffy coat/plaid/denim patterned leaves, etc. As horticulturist and producer of this bizarre and surreal space, I want to almost overwhelm the viewer with a landscape totally twisted up, like elements our minds develop while we sleep with blended memories and objects. Truth, memory, time, all a little bit funny, a little bit fleeting, a little bit fucked up.