Photography: Babiche Martens
The figurative paintings Jenni Stringleman creates are hypnotic. The vibrant colours, the fluid movements. Her figures are dancing and swimming and existing in ways that make you yearn for the world they inhabit. She is inspired by the lives she has lived and the challenges she has faced, and the result is breathtaking.
Tell us about your journey to becoming a full-time artist.
Having spent the first chunk of my life drawing and cartooning, then working in graphic design and animation, the birth of my second child gave me an opportunity to take up painting again. It was something I absolutely loved in school. Twelve years ago, I attended art classes taught by Robert Champion, and he was generous enough to share so much of what he’d learnt over his career. I started by painting figures but ended up working on a commission of hydrangeas for my mum, which led to hanging a few paintings in a neighbourhood cafe and getting noticed by a Ponsonby gallery. It was a real dream come true.
What does creating mean to you?
I’m mostly a visual person. As I walk around, potential subjects constantly draw my eyes in. My reference file on my phone has thousands of photos. Before I began to paint for a living, I drew all the time. Now I seem only to be able to paint. Creation is in a whisper of an idea but also in the hours of graft every day.
You have done a lot of club and dancing scenes inspired by your time abroad. Can you tell us a little bit about that and how it inspires you?
They emerged from a desire to expand after painting so many flowers. I’d done that for years and I felt like I’d somewhat exhausted the subject. But I loved the kaleidoscopic quality of those paintings, and I was trying to keep that style going in my figurative work. With the clubbing scenes in particular, the lights enabled me to fracture the characters in a way that felt fresh. As a young woman living in the UK during the height of rave culture, the music and memories run through me like a stick of rock [candy].
And what inspires your more recent swimming and seaside-related pieces?
In mid-2023 doctors diagnosed me with low-grade serous ovarian cancer. It’s a rare type, which is hard to treat, but relatively slower growing. For a couple of weeks, we were under the impression that it was possibly a terminal diagnosis. In that time, it was evident that all I cared about was spending time with my family and my friends, and jumping into the sea. I realised that all the years I spent caring about how I looked or what others thought of me meant nothing.
In the end, further surgery showed that some of the spread was a borderline form of tumour, which could turn cancerous but hadn’t yet. It was such a relief. As I slowly returned to painting, all I wanted to do was paint people. And most importantly, people at the beach relaxed in their bodies. Real-shaped regular folk. And that’s what I’ve been doing ever since. It really pays to be proactive with your health, no matter your family history or age.
What’s the best part about painting people?
Faces and bodies are so fascinating, and I could never become bored with that. I paint “old masters”-style portraits of kids on commission, loose sketchpad faces, nudes, and multifigure compositions. Sometimes I play around with landscapes or delve back into florals, but if I only have a limited time to paint, it’ll be people.
What do you hope people take from your art?
When people describe my work it’s usually that it makes them happy. I certainly love beautiful colours and textures, which helps. But if people were to remember me for having achieved anything with my art, I hope that it helps normalise seeing everyday people in art, relaxed in their skin and celebrating female friendship.
What do you have on the horizon for your art?
I have a few vintage postcard paintings on the go, which will lead to even larger versions. I’ve just finished a couple of paintings for Gallery De Novo’s 20th anniversary in Dunedin. A few more works will appear on the Flagstaff Gallery stand at Art in the Park at Eden Park later this year. And if my energy levels allow, hopefully a sixth solo show, early in 2026.
How can our readers find you and your work?
See my website or my Instagram. I also love to write, and my new Substack is Dispatches from the Studio. Hear me discuss my studio and practice on The Creative Kind podcast, and there are floral prints available at Fishmob. You can see my work in real life through my lovely galleries or by contacting me.
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