January 2025: Jules Ahern

Jules Ahern was born and raised in Victor Rochester, New York. She uncovered her love of painting at ten years old while attending weekly art classes at the Mill Art Center. After graduating from High School in 2020 she received her BFA in painting at The Cleveland Institute of art. Through her studio practice Jules explores her experience as a woman, decay, fertility, and materiality. Jules’s work has been exhibited as part of a self created group exhibition with Isabella Dombrowski and Danielle Larson called Pretty Flesh (2023), as well as in SHED Projects recent curation at Duck Rabbit Coffee (2024).​

---

JULES AHERN'S ARTIST STATEMENT
The home I grew up in was beautiful and deeply flawed. My mother was tender and cold, my father loved me dearly and ruined the girl I was, my sisters, my breath, that chair, that bed, those sheets kept me in my body, grounded me in reality. What happens to us as children, our formative years, our core memories, our Freudian stages of development significantly impacts who we are. Were you born through c-section or naturally? Were you cut from your mother’s womb and cord or did you pass through her vaginal walls slowly emerging into the light? Did you get dropped on your head? Did you play outside in the dirt and ants? Was the garage full of rusty tools? Did you have a little pink shirt and ankle socks with frilly lace?

In my work I come to terms with my family home and sensitive memories, I turn shit into cake and fucking eat it. I pick up objects that remind me of myself: abandoned, ruined, discarded–the used and abused–and then I care and love and adorn them. I dress them up real pretty, I put them in shapely boxes, I re-contextualize what’s left behind, what was deemed as useless. Viewers are confronted with unpleasantness that I soften with aesthetic delicacy. I stain, I scrub, I pick, I pull, I cling, I hold on to, I melt, pour over and blow up.

This work is immersive, it’s of this world, it’s my sincere attempt at honesty, a physical representation of the horrific and precious feelings there are no words for. My work is the personification of objects and conversely the objectification of people. I see myself in this forgotten “garbage”, in this rusty metal, in that bed of springs”, and in what cannot be repaired but only accepted and loved despite it all.

My body is my home and my home is my body, people move in and out, paint peels, carpet molds, cracks begin to form in the foundation and in my skin and I can’t keep filling them with spray foam or adding another layer of paint. Beauty always had to seduce and pretty always had to be clean, to be flawless, perfect, pure, innocent and untouched. My work is none of that, I am none of that, my work is unique, it’s dirty, it’s intense, raw, complex, ephemeral, imperfect, it’s pretty and it’s ugly, it’s authentic and it’s human, it’s you and it’s me.

In this work beauty gets twisted and redefined, an alternative allure is born in the same light. Pretty things are cherished, never abandoned, they’re held tight to your chest, they’re valued, they’re loved. But you can’t just put rusty things in a box, paint them pink, and call it pretty when it’s really an abyss, it’s a pit of anger, hurt, sadness, and disappointment. But maybe you can, maybe it will actually help…

​I use my work as a conduit to talk about how my personal experience is not exclusive to me, how the white capitalistic, pedophilic patriarchy unjustly attempts to control our view on age, beauty and value. My work redefines what it means to be beautiful and to serve purpose. I find pretty in the ugly.

Tell us a bit about your background. How did you come to embrace the life of a visual artist? Was there a pivotal moment or influence that sparked your journey into art?
I was born Juliet Eliza Ahern in 2002 in Victor, New York. I learned to paint when I was 10 years old at the Mill Art Center in Honeyoye Falls. When I graduated high school in 2020 it felt like the world was ending, I made a commitment to spend what I believed would be my short life immersed in painting. That year, I truly became a painter. Attending art school has been one of the most formative experiences of my life—it has given me the time and space to engage in both the making and the critical analysis of art, while introducing me to artists whose work and work and words have been transformative. Women like Tracey Emin, Louise Bourgeois, Lee Bontecou, and Ana Mendieta have been instrumental in helping me discover my own voice as an artist and have provided me with the tools to explore the complex layers of my personal and artistic identity.

Every artist draws inspiration from somewhere. Can you share a little about the influences, artists, or experiences that have shaped your creative vision? Are there particular themes or stories that resonate with you deeply and appear frequently in your work?
In my practice I am constantly looking to and referencing the feminist artists who have come before me. My work carries a clear message, one that aligns with the humor of Meret Oppenheim, the rage of Louise Bourgeois, the profound depth of Lee Bontecou, and the ephemeral quality found in the works of Ana Mendieta and Eva Hesse. The struggle for women’s rights is a contemporary issue, the fight for autonomy, the white supremacist, pedophilic, patriarchal foundation that America is built upon compels me to make work that is loud, visceral, angry, methodical, and beautiful.

Walk us through your creative process. How do you approach a new piece, from the moment an idea forms to the final detail? Do you follow a routine, or does each project develop differently? 
Many of my pieces revolve around found objects, though they are not directly inspired by them. I am drawn to objects or fragments of things that carry a particular energy—whether from their age, wear, rust, history, abandonment, or context. I live with these items for a while, allowing them to resonate with me before they find their place within the framework of my current ideas. I work quickly and impulsively, often not permanently adhering objects to one another because everything is in a constant state of flux. For me, the material itself is the message. When using recognizable materials, I approach them conceptually: What does it mean to make people more aware of their own bodies and environments? How can I make the viewer feel what I feel?

Artistic journeys often come with both challenges and triumphs. Can you share any memorable challenges you’ve encountered in your career, and perhaps a breakthrough moment that shifted your perspective or approach to your work?
I’m 22, and my artistic journey has been shaped almost entirely by struggle, with doubt—both from others and within myself—being the greatest challenge. I found my voice as an artist about a year and a half ago, but I know I still have a long way to go.

Your work has a unique style and presence. How would you describe it to someone encountering it for the first time? Are there particular materials, colors, or techniques you find yourself returning to?
My work operates through metaphor and association. I carefully select materials, colors, and techniques that carry rich, layered histories. Shades of powder blue and dusty pink, forms phallic and vaginal in nature allude to gender. Abandoned domestic objects, rusted chains, hardware, and children's clothing evoke an unsettling sense of innocence. I find myself returning to the process of rust dying, the irreversible impression of an object made unto an the substrate and the binding of pigment within the fibers strengthen my message. The aesthetic of my work is post-industrial, bodily, and feminine. I create to remind people of the things they touch, love, and break.

As an artist working in today’s rapidly changing world, how do current events, social themes, or new technologies impact your work? Have you felt compelled to address certain issues or explore new media in response?
The social and political climate of today drive my practice, I find motivation in the pain I have experienced and in the words of other women. Most recently those of Gisèle Pelicot and Tracey Emin.

What's next for you as an artist? Are there upcoming projects, exhibitions, or dreams you’re particularly excited about? And how do you envision your work evolving over the next few years?
Since graduating, I have been creating a series of menstrual prints and working as an art teacher. I plan to pursue an MFA in the coming years to further develop the themes I'm exploring and to incorporate alternative processes, such as focus groups, into my work.