One of the best pieces of advice I got when I began collecting was simply “look at a lot of art.” Discovering Jillian Evelyn’s work was a great example of that advice paying off. Seeing an intriguing print by a different artist led me to an online gallery, which led me to Evelyn’s work–though not any of the pieces I now own. In fact, the first three times I attempted to purchase one of Evelyn’s works I was stymied by an early sell out!
I’m not normally attracted to figural art (nudes or otherwise), but Evelyn’s works immediately grabbed me in how they evoked some of the great pop artists of the 20th century–simple designs, a limited color palette, timeless subject matters, and yet a distinctive and immediately recognizable style that feels fresh and contemporary without being faddish.
“Summer Camp ’23”
28″ h x 22″ w, screen print (signed, numbered 7/50) (2023)
“Pool Side”
20″ h x 16″ w, screen print (signed, numbered 12/50) (2019)
“Stifled”
14″ h x 11″ w, risograph (signed, numbered 38/100) (2021)
My first successful purchase of a Jillian Evelyn print was “Summer Camp ’23”, part of The Jaunt series which sends artists to far-flung locales for inspiration to create a print. Completely by coincidence, Evelyn’s trip was relatively local to me: she attended a “summer camp” in Joseph, Oregon, where she experimented with a ranch/cowgirl style of living. The resulting artwork drew from her time horseback riding–the comfort/discomfort of the female embodied experience playing with the comfort/discomfort of riding a horse.
Not long after I acquired “Summer Camp”, I saw both two more prints available for sale at reasonable prices. I jumped all over them, and a collection was born. “Pool Side” and “Stifled” are outstanding representations of Evelyn’s work: contorted female figures in a limited color palette that reflect “the struggle of womanhood and the anxiety that arises from societal expectations.” “Pool Side” is a special favorite, as I purchased it from the Outre Gallery in Melbourne, Australia — not just my first international purchase, but my first purchase directly from a gallery, period. It made me feel like quite the jet-setter–appropriate, since I very much can see the woman in this print wringing her hair out beside a luxury pool at some fancy resort I could never afford to attend.
“When We Are Free”
40″ h x 30″ w, acrylic on wood panel (signed) (2026)
“During the Night”
28″ h x 20″ w, screenprint (signed, numbered 17/50) (2026)
“Don’t Come Looking for Me”
28″ h x 20″ w, silkscreen print (signed, numbered 33/50) (2026)
While “Summer Camp” was local to Portland, I missed the show the first time around. But when I caught wind she’d be returning to the Chefas Projects gallery here in town just in time for my fortieth birthday, I was elated (my wife was more sanguine — her first words were “RIP our wall space”).
This show was once again curated by The Jaunt (this time, the trip was to New Hampshire), but it also offered my first opportunity to see Evelyn’s paintings in addition to her prints. If “Summer Camp” et al are outstanding representations of where Evelyn has been as an artist, these works showcase where she is going. They still preserve her signature minimalism and limited palette, but add some interesting overlays that almost read like camouflage–obviously in “Don’t Come Looking for Me”, but more subtly in the other pieces as well. And even though it’s technically depicting New Hampshire, I also very much see the beauty of Oregon in “When We Are Free”‘s mountains and greenery–it feels very close to home. As the first painting by Jillian Evelyn to add to my collection, I cannot think of a better one.
Finally, I can’t overlook the impact, in 2026, of the title: “When We Are Free.” It will take more than patience, but the reign of the witches will pass, and we will be free again. It will be joyous and beautiful and serene and ecstatic, and I cannot wait for the day that it comes.
“Giddy-Up”
20″ h x 16″ w, screenprint (signed, numbered 75/75) (2024)
“Gloom Bloom”
24″ h x 18″ w, screenprint (signed, numbered 65/75) (2024)
Always on the prowl for new Jillian Evelyn works, I bought these as holiday presents for the end of 2024 (after losing an attempt to purchase one of her paintings at an auction a few weeks earlier). Both pieces dovetail nicely with work already in my collection. “Giddy-Up”, of course, matches up with “Summer Camp ’23” in the “woman on horseback” genre. But “Gloom Bloom” caught my eye because of how it paired with Kii Arens’ lithograph “Vote Joy”, which I purchased in advance of the 2024 election as my way of donating to the Kamala Harris campaign. “Because she’s crying?”, my wife asked? “Because of the 70s-style flowers,” I replied — though in hindsight, I’d say we’re both correct.
“Keen”
24″ h x 18″ w, screenprint (signed, aside from an edition of 200) (2023).
A friend saw this and quipped “I too like to make sure to match my nipples to my lipstick and nails.” I told her that she would make a very nice two-color screen print then!
“Contorted”
7.5″ h x 7.5″ w, archival pigment print on perforated blotter paper (signed, printer’s proof aside from ed. of 50) (2020)
The print is cool, but the perforations on the paper make me very nervous. I honestly don’t know why 1xRun chose to make it this way.
“I’ll Never Look at You the Same”
19” h x 13” w, archival pigment print on paper (unsigned as issued, numbered 115/250) (2019)
“I Need Space (Blue Variant)”
14″ h x 23″ w, screenprint (signed, AP aside from an edition of 50) (2018)
“I’ll Never Look at You the Same” was made for the Heliotrope Foundation, a non-profit which uses art to help heal communities afflicted by natural disasters or other social crises. Not long after, I acquired “I Need Space”, which was from a different publisher (1xRun) but obviously comes from the same series. The first person I talked to who saw the latter (other than myself) immediately said “looks like a Greek goddess!” Not the thought I had immediately but you know what? I kind of see it. What stood out for me, though, is I believe these are the only prints I own of Evelyn’s featuring a freckled visage.
David Schraub 