Surprises can be life-changing. When we launched our inaugural Art Awards competition last fall, we set out to discover and recognize amazing new talent in the art world.
We were delighted with the outstanding entries of the artists who entered and are happy to celebrate each and every one. And while we planned to feature the winner with a story like the one you will read here, we were so impressed with the winning entry that it now graces the cover of this issue, an unexpected gift for us, our readers, and artist Jill Brinser who rediscovered her talent as a painter after her life took an unforeseen turn.
As she wrote in her artist’s statement, her entry “Beautiful Things combines all my loves – reflections, transparency, dramatic light and colorful shadows. I enjoyed painting the special little details you only find when studying something for hours. This collection of pink and gold objects includes a bottle of Michael Kors perfume (and my love of branding), my Ray Bans (in my favorite color), and a pale pink box of handcrafted artisan chocolates from Spence Candies (delicious, from my hometown). It’s about indulging in the finer things, appreciating tiny details and finding them in ordinary everyday objects and sharing that joy and beauty with others.”
“Brightly colored photorealistic still life paintings invite the viewer into my world. These larger-than-life paintings are “designed” using a fresh perspective that highlights the quirky details in everyday and pop culture items. With a special focus on metal, glass, and food, the compositions purposely break rules of conventionality. At close look, bits of underpainting show through, revealing layers of saturated paint. Weird reflections, unexpected colors in shadows and highlights, soft and hard edges and detailed textures work together to bring the objects to life. My intention is to share these slice-of-life interpretations and bring inspiration and a connection to the viewer and their space. Real joy and satisfaction come when my art stirs a good memory or simply makes someone smile.”
Not only does her art make us smile, her story, a portrait of courage, resilience, creative determination – and heart, is equally uplifting. After a successful 30-year career in graphic design for leading consumer brands, Jill Brinser took a leap of faith. It was 2018, a time when the advertising world she knew was shifting to a new digital-based reality and the agency she called home for over a decade closed its doors.
“I was crushed,” Jill told us. “I really loved what I was doing.”
A former art director who meticulously choreographed picture-perfect photo shoots and designed innovative print-based branding campaigns, she recalled having two choices at the time. Look for another agency position and ace the new online technologies that were redefining traditional media or reinvent herself. Her children were grown. She and her husband were redecorating their house and it seemed like the right time to create a new reality for herself.
“I wanted some artwork for the walls but didn’t have the budget to buy any,” she recalls. So she dug out an old canvas and paints from her days as an aspiring artist, and copied a surfing painting for her stepson. Pleased with her work, she painted a giant portrait of their cat for her daughter’s room, experiencing a familiar passion for creating hands-on art long hidden by her agency career. That’s when everything clicked.
What seemed like a setback at the time became the opening she needed. That first painting of her cat, Hermione, was the inspiration behind her first solo venture as an artist. Working under the pseudonym, Hermione Paints, she specialized in pet portraits, a serendipitous moment as it turned out. Friends took notice. An opportunity to show her work in a local exhibit garnered more attention. And commissions began to roll in.
Timing is everything. Within a year of her newfound career painting pets, COVID closed the world down. People hunkered down in their homes, selectively opening their doors to vetted, masked guests and incredibly opening their hearts to countless new pets.
It’s perhaps no coincidence that the rise in pet portraiture dovetailed with the pandemic. More than 23 million American households – nearly 1 in 5 nationwide – adopted a pet during the pandemic, according to the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA) and many dog owners spent the pandemic pampering those pooches. Dog lovers are doters, loving their pups with all the adoration that comes with familial bonds. While photographs, Facebook and Instagram posts teem with pet pictures, painted portraits became immensely popular during the pandemic and beyond. Jill, with her new artistic venture, became busier and more inspired than ever to pick up and profit by her paintbrush.
It wasn’t long before she realized that her passion lay in painting still lifes and in 2023, she changed her Instagram handle and kept the account, rebranding her online presence under her name. That’s when she started to paint in her own voice.
So why still lifes?
“There’s a lot of beauty in the everyday. Objects might not evoke strong emotion by themselves, but they can trigger a memory, awaken a sense, or invite the viewer to imagine a time or place.”
Food and drink recall family celebrations. A vintage toy conjures childhood afternoons when the world revolved around play. A classic car invites nostalgia – and maybe even the scent of old leather seats and summer road trips. “Even the larger objects I paint are still objects,” she says. “They’re slices of life.”
Some paintings hint at a story. Others are studies—simple explorations of color, form, and feeling. “Many of the items have meaning for me. But I hope viewers connect with them in their own way.” Although her style might flirt with photorealism, she doesn’t strive for a pixel-perfect copy. “I use the photo as a reference. The result is a mix—maybe photorealism, maybe Pop Art. The humor is often in the subject itself.”
She doesn’t name-drop specific influences—though a recent visit to the Andy Warhol Museum brought back fond memories of college. “In advertising, we were always told to think outside the box. That idea stuck.” Design principles – emphasis, balance, contrast, flow – still guide her hand, even as she steps away from commercial work. “Design creeps into everything: your home, your wardrobe, and definitely your painting.”
Despite watching art tutorials and reading plenty of art magazines, she resists imitating others. “I try not to be overly influenced. I like to push the boundaries and do my own thing.” And that’s the essence of her work: planned but open to spontaneity, rooted in memory but built on modern technique. They’re objects, yes – but never just objects. In her hands, they become vibrant conversations between the past and present, the mundane and the marvelous.
Introducing her new work to the public, she began to participate in outdoor art shows, small and local at first, before venturing to larger, more competitive exhibitions. In just two years, Brinser has exhibited at major juried festivals, including the prestigious Rittenhouse Square Fine Art Show in Philadelphia. “I applied to a lot of shows, thinking I might not be accepted in all of them,” she says. “But I got in, and I didn’t want to say no.”
Each show requires serious planning: tents, inventory, travel—and schedule coordination with her husband, who is also a dedicated Pennsylvania hunter. “We have to work around hunting season,” she laughs. Despite the challenges, she finds joy in meeting collectors and seeing her paintings find homes. “They’re all my babies,” she says. “But there’s no use making art if you’re not going to share it.”
Brinser’s work blends photo-realistic technique with bold, unexpected compositions. She paints familiar objects—candy wrappers, cocktails, chrome bumpers—with a pop-art sensibility and graphic precision. She didn’t have the opportunity to study the masters when she was enrolled at Temple University’s Tyler School of Art where she received her Bachelor’s Degree in Fine Art, she told us candidly, explaining that her graphic design major kept her busy. “There are so many great artists out there who do traditional still lifes very well,” she continued, adding that she does them in her own unique way. “I don’t try to emulate them. I just paint the way I see it.
Mostly self-taught, her still lifes are unapologetically saturated in color. “A lot of people like subtle, calm palettes,” she explains. “This isn’t that. This is loud, it’s in your face. It stops people in their tracks.”
Her painting process begins with abandoning the blankness: “I often put a solid color down so I don’t start with a white background.” Working large, she uses a grid to sketch the composition directly on stretched canvas, knowing full well it will soon disappear. “Once I block in the big shapes – the lights and darks – the whole sketch pretty much gets covered. I call this the ‘ugly stage.’” But that chaos has its charm. “I like to use weird colors in the underpainting, and I enjoy seeing unexpected hues peek through the layers.”
Layers are central to her technique. “I don’t know what other acrylic painters do, but for me, it’s definitely a layering process.” When the complexity threatens to overwhelm, she flips the canvas upside down. “Then I just paint shapes and colors. It’s actually fun that way. I can get lost in it.”
She frequently steps back – literally – to evaluate progress, snapping photos or checking reflections in a mirror. “It helps me see things I need to correct. It’s amazing how much clarity you get just by changing your point of view.”
While she sketches from life, her finished works are painted from reference photos. “There’s a lot of controversy around that,” she acknowledges. “But I work large, and keeping the lighting consistent over time is almost impossible.” An early experiment – painting the same subject from life and from a photo –helped her choose the latter. “I liked the photo-based result better. For now, that’s what works.”
Far from a mere crutch, the camera adds something unexpected. “I happen to like some of the quirkiness you get with camera distortion. It feels apropos, considering the time we’re living in. I shoot from so many angles that I feel like I really get to know the objects.”
Though her training in painting is minimal – three brief intro classes at a local art association during college – her years of experience as an art director shaped her eye. She stages her own photo shoots at home, experimenting with lighting, color, and composition. She often begins with a digital sketch, but makes creative decisions throughout the process. “You can manipulate reality, she explains, “and it’s exciting to bring something to life on canvas.”
Brinser paints exclusively in acrylics, which dry quickly and don’t allow much room for error. “Acrylic suits my style—it’s bold and precise.”
Brinser’s buyers are as varied as her subjects. Some are drawn to the vivid color, others to the nostalgia. “It’s not for someone who wants their art to blend in,” she says. “Someone once told me, ‘This isn’t couch art.’ And I loved that.”
Many of her still lifes carry emotional undertones – especially her series of cars, candies, and cocktails. “Sometimes someone will come into the tent and say, ‘This just brings me joy,’” she says. “That’s what I’m going for. In today’s world, we could all use a little more joy.”
For anyone considering a creative leap like hers, Brinser offers heartfelt encouragement: “Don’t wait for the perfect moment. I didn’t have a grand plan. I just started painting for myself. And now I can’t stop.”
Though she still gets nervous talking about her art – “I was voted shyest girl in my high school class,” she admits her paintings speak volumes. Her palette is anything but shy. “These paintings are bold, bright, and not dark or brooding. They’re for people who appreciate color, who want to make a statement in a contemporary or eclectic space.”
Loud, bright, and full of life, they reflect the unexpected second act of a woman who’s finally creating on her own terms – and winning cover-story awards as a result.
“There’s always a reason why things happen,” Brinser says. “If that agency hadn’t closed, I might never have started painting. And now I know—this is what I was meant to do.” ☐
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