Exploring the quirky world of Dumbo octopus and Blobfish as inspiration for my next underwater painting. Follow my creative process and sea creature discoveries!

Fantasy Coffins are hand crafted works of art from Ghana, designed to honor a life well lived. From flamingos to paintbrushes, the possibilities are endless. I am about to see the largest collection outside Ghana at Houston’s National Museum of Funeral History.

Matt once promised me we’d “live like kings.” At the Oklahoma State Fair, I realized his royal vision might involve pig races, turkey legs, and a band shell in 90-degree heat.

Apparently, my paintings have more of a social calendar than I do. This fall they’ll be roosting in libraries, braving the elements at an art festival, and rallying for an encore. Come say hi if you’re in the neighborhood—the art loves company, and so do I.

Perspective is a funny thing. What looks like a whale tail to me might look like a snail to you. In painting and in life, the smallest details like the catch light in a monk’s eye can completely change how we see things.

Flamingos, stingrays, octopuses, and more are officially on display at the Midwest City Library! Come see the colorful, quirky, and playful art of Jennifer Jones this September.

While hanging my art at the Midwest City Library, a child’s sheer delight over sand-crab volleyball reminded me why I create.

My Merry Men of Mount Rushmore painting is still wallowing in the ugly stage. Eyes are straight, heads are forming, and I’ve promised to keep at it—progress-ish.

As I wandered through the exhibit, I realized that most cooks (and creators) tend to fall into one of three distinct categories: The Recipe "Stickler" The Recipe "Guideliner" The Recipe "Free For Aller" Each style reflects a different mindset. And while they can evoke everything from anxiety to exhilaration—let’s be honest—sometimes they’re also a recipe for disaster.

Quirky museums remind me inspiration is everywhere — even in the smallest, most unexpected places.

The stingray’s background is fixed, the colors are flowing, and it’s happier than ever. The only problem? This little guy (or girl) has no name.

My art—and how it's interpreted by others—has especially taught me to appreciate different perspectives. Something I see as a whimsical robot might look like a propane tank to someone else. Or a rock shark to me might just be a pile of granite to another. And that’s okay.

Looking back at my earliest works compared to the newest, I was genuinely surprised. You know you grow as an artist but seeing it all side-by-side was like discovering my old middle school diary… a little embarrassing, but fascinating.

They say once a painting is finished, you should walk away. I say… let’s grab a brush and see what happens.

And yes, we actually have graph paper. Yes, I measure each painting to make sure the spacing is perfect. I like to think of it as equal parts artistic vision and gallery logistics… though it probably just looks like I’m playing art-show Tetris with a ruler in hand.

The orchids flourished for a while—but then their colors began to fade. They just didn’t look as vibrant. I figured they needed a little boost: some Miracle-Gro.

For now, the Royal Mail is doing its part to carry these mechanical wonders across the sea to my doorstep. I’ll be waiting, tea in hand, refreshing the tracking link like it’s my new hobby.

This blog was supposed to be about art. Just art. But rules—especially self-imposed ones—are made to be broken. So, I gave myself permission to write about whatever strikes me as interesting, funny, or just too odd not to share. A special section is in the blog for these off the art trail blogs - Life Behind the Easel.

After using up all the bags I (very discreetly) ordered, I figured it was time to restock. It’s a seasonal item (, after all. I can’t imagine going months without it. So, I hopped on Amazon with the plan to grab two... or three... or maybe four bags. You know, just to be safe. Only… it was out of stock.

Valerie was all in, hunting down the perfect mosaic design for her frame. Meanwhile, I decided that instead of working on my pad plant frame, I would swap out the window in my half-bath with a sea-themed mosaic instead. Matt’s only rule: “No flamingos, for heaven’s sake!” So naturally, I went underwater—sea turtles, fish, seaweed, and none of those pink feathered party crashers.