Studio Confessions with Jen Dixon

Behind every finished artwork are the experiments, setbacks and creative risks that shape it.

In Studio Confessions, we speak to artists from the Daler-Rowney Artists community about the realities of creative practice, sharing the mistakes, challenges and lessons that shape their work.

Our first guest is artist and educator Jen Dixon, a British-American multidisciplinary artist based on the North Cornwall coast. With over 30 years of experience, her work spans abstract and figurative art, drawing on influences from illustration, design, graffiti, printmaking and fine art.

Alongside her own practice, Jen has taught nearly 100,000 students worldwide, championing experimentation, curiosity and creative confidence.

In this candid conversation, she reflects on failed paintings, taking risks, overcoming self-doubt and finding her artistic voice, sharing why the work that doesn’t go to plan can be just as valuable as the finished piece.

“I had a big sheet of watercolour paper go weird on me recently. It was a gorgeous day in August, so I decided to go outside and paint abstract watercolour and gouache “vegetation”, but huge. There was a butterfly keeping me company as I painted. I think I spent five hours on it, and it really got to a point of stubborn obsession. I was so determined to make something out of it, but I really made a mediocre painting. It’s got all kinds of flaws that I could fix, but I’ve decided that I’ve invested enough of my life into it, so I’m thinking it’s going to be scanned or photographed, then used as a background for a digital animation project I want to try on my iPad. Makes me feel like it’s getting a second chance at finding its purpose.”

Featured piece: Untitled, unfinished mixed media on paper.
2026

“I had been selling works on canvas successfully for years, been represented by a couple of galleries, had solo exhibitions and many group ones too, but I felt something holding me back. I have always been interested in graphic design, posters, signage, graffiti, illustration, and printmaking. I started using scrap mount board with a gesso coating to crank out more ideas at the same time. They’re less bulky, and the board – plus more and more paper – could finally keep up with my rapid fire ideas. I started letting more of my internal thoughts out in combined works of imagery and writing.

Canvases still play a part in my art, but I use paper as my first choice more often in the last decade. It’s also so much easier to store in a small space. It was really difficult letting go of the “fine artist” idea of myself after experiencing success with canvases, but I made peace with the realisation that if a collector isn’t interested in my works on paper, that’s fine. I make the work anyway, and am far happier. Turns out, plenty of people seem to dig the paper stuff too.”

Featured piece: “Ascension” mixed media on A3 paper.
2024

“It took decades to realise this, but you gotta learn to listen and see things better. Find the reason that something turns you on. Pay attention to what you pay attention to, and figure out a way to bring some of that mojo into your work. After I moved to coastal North Cornwall, I felt like a puzzle piece slotted into a hole in me.

Lines, shapes, and colours I’d been using in my work for years suddenly came together like I had a decoder ring. I don’t typically create literal seascapes, but the energy and the palette were all around me, like a guide or a string that linked all of these instincts I’d been haphazardly trying to make sense of in my work, but only figured out when I started paying attention to what was around me. Nature is a great teacher, but there are clues and curiosities everywhere. Notice them, and then spend time learning how to use the input in your work. Some might call it a muse, or inspiration, but I think it’s more internal than external; like a projection or a reflection. You just have to pay attention.”

Featured piece: “Here they come…”
Graphite, sanguine oil on 95gsm 250x250mm sketch cartridge paper.
2023

“I don’t really think I ever did compare my art to others, not seriously. Of course it sucks being new at something, but I’ve always been deeply interested in nearly every medium and method there is, so I push myself to become competent at them all. I dream of a huge warehouse studio space where I can further indulge things like assemblage and sculpture. I have an Industrial Design degree, so dimensional work and model-building is part of my creative world.

I built a five-foot-tall lighthouse model for a group exhibition out of mostly recycled materials a few years ago. It took over 200 hours to build. It glowed in blacklight, and had its own rechargeable lantern in the top. Magnetic tentacles cling to it from an imaginary sea monster; it’s a haunted ruin, but still glows. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with comparing that to another artist’s work. If you struggle with comparison, figure out why. It’s probably a sign that you’re paying attention to the wrong thing…”

Featured piece: “Self-Portrait as a Lighthouse”.
Approximate measurements: 2’x3’ base (without magnetically attached tentacles), 5’ tall (with adjustable feet)
2023

“I keep most of what I make, even the things that stall or fail. Sometimes I find paintings and drawings years later that become useful parts of new work, and some things only make sense after time away from them. I have stacks of works on paper and board, and so many canvases too. The family-friendly version of what I call it all is “The Poo Pile”, but you can imagine a more vulgar description is what I truly call it all.

Just recently, I pulled a small oil painting from the canvases graveyard, and it’s getting a fresh chance on my treasured antique easel, which is the exact same model and vintage that Frida Kahlo used. It was given to me years ago, and though it is tremendously special, I use it for most of my work. Maybe this painting will finally get signed on it.“

Featured piece: Untitled, unfinished oil on canvas.

“So far, I’ve taught nearly 100,000 people in-person & online, and I could easily rattle off a hundred tips and a lot of fairly common advice for an art career. But, I think the most important guidance is to make art for yourself. I also have a tattoo of To Thine Own Self Be True on my left forearm. I have a silver bracelet with that inscription, but it kept getting caught on stuff, so I got it in ink.

My mom gave me the bracelet just before I moved to the UK in 2004 to start a new life. She’s been gone over 16 years now, but I made an encouraging sign for my studio to help keep me focused. It says “do it for her” with a photo of me as a child. I never really wanted to be anything else. Even if you come to art or creativity later than I did – and most do – remember that creative expression is your unique thing, so make art for yourself first, always. Do that, and you’ll be fine.

The photo on my sign is me when I was 5 years old, kindergarten school picture. I had already decided to become an artist by then, and taught my first drawing lesson to my class the following year. I’ve also included a recent photo of me on the swing I installed in my studio. I have gym rings and a swing to help me burn off energy, keep strong, and think. It’s also fun, and the swing is one of my old skateboard decks from my early skater years in the 1980s.“

Every artist has a story behind the work. Studio Confessions explores the experiments, setbacks and unexpected turns that shape a creative practice.

More artist conversations coming soon.