Jen Dauberman

Year of birth: 1983.
Where do you live: Conway, SC.
Your education: Undergraduate in Art Studio from Coastal Carolina University.
Masters of Art in Teaching from Coastal Carolina University.
Describe your art in three words: Curious, Connected, Earthy.
Your discipline: Multi-disciplinary Artist/Teacher.
Website | Instagram

Your work often incorporates natural materials like twigs, leaves, and fabric. How do you decide which materials to use for each piece?

I let the day, the hike, and my discoveries guide my work. When I explore nature, I collect a variety of natural objects like twigs, leaves, or other interesting things that catch my eye. Kayaking is one of my favorite ways to gather materials because it allows me to slow down and notice the small details in my surroundings. Once I’ve gathered my collection, I lay everything out and start experimenting. I let the materials themselves inspire the direction of the piece, often pairing elements based on textures, shapes, or colors that feel right together. I enjoy playing with these contrasts and combinations, allowing the tactile qualities of each material to guide my decisions. Each item I use holds a memory of where I found it or what I was doing that day, making my artwork deeply personal. These materials serve as both creative inspiration and a way to preserve moments from my time spent in nature. When I look back on my finished pieces, they become a kind of visual journal, reminding me of the places I’ve been and the things I’ve seen along the way.

Jen Dauberman | Threads of Cyan & Earth | 2024

“Threads of Cyan & Earth” highlights connections between nature and human stories. Can you share a personal story or memory that inspired this piece?

A memory that inspires some of my woven pieces in general is the connection I long to still have with my mom, who I lost to breast cancer in 2011. She had a deep love for our ancestry and preserved every family heirloom you could imagine. After she passed, I found myself looking at these items with fresh eyes, appreciating their stories and the hands that made them. Among them were quilts meticulously labeled with notes like, ‘Your great-great-aunt Fanny made this in 1901.’ My mother was buried with a quilt her own mother had made from pieces of her childhood dresses—a gesture that felt like a tangible connection between generations.

When I weave, I feel like I’m continuing that tradition, threading together stories of love, loss, and resilience. Nature often intertwines with these pieces as well, representing the cycles of growth, decay, and renewal that mirror our own human experiences. This piece, ‘Threads of Cyan & Earth,’ feels like a bridge between those personal stories and the larger, universal connection we all share with nature and our ancestors.

Jen Dauberman | NatureWeaving | 2024

Cyanotype is a unique medium. What drew you to this technique, and how does it contribute to your storytelling?

I’ve always loved working in a darkroom and learning about photography and the chemical process. There are so many alternative processes to explore, but I was especially drawn to cyanotypes because of their rich, deep blues. I also love how simple the process is—you don’t need a darkroom since it’s sensitive to UV light, which means I can create almost anywhere. Using the sun as part of the process, leaves me feeling connected to nature, which is a big part of my work.

I enjoy working with negatives I make from found objects, and the flexibility of cyanotypes lets me experiment with printing on all kinds of surfaces. That’s perfect for me because I’m not someone who sticks to doing the same thing over and over. Cyanotypes allow me to keep exploring and growing as an artist.

Of course, there have been plenty of funny challenges along the way. One time, I was teaching a cyanotype workshop in Seattle, and it was snowing and overcast—not exactly ideal conditions for a process that relies on UV light! We had to improvise and borrow UV flashlights from another group just to make it work. It was chaotic but also a great reminder of how adaptable and creative you have to be with this process.

Then there was the time early on when I was experimenting with cyanotypes and dyed a bunch of fabric for a piece. I was too impatient to let it dry overnight—it was dripping everywhere and making such a mess—so I thought putting it in the dryer would speed things up. Let’s just say I learned my lesson when I accidentally dyed my entire dryer blue! Even now, my impatience gets the best of me sometimes, and I end up with blue-stained hands as a little reminder of how hands-on (literally) this process can be. Moments like these make me laugh and keep me grounded in the joy of experimenting and learning.

For storytelling, cyanotypes are a natural fit. They allow me to combine my love of mixed media with endless experimentation, which means every piece has its own unique voice. I use found objects, photographs, and even hand-drawn elements to create negatives that act like fragments of a larger narrative. These fragments come together to tell stories about connection, memory, and nature.

The rich blue tones of cyanotypes feel timeless, almost like they hold a piece of history. That’s important to me because my work often explores themes of ancestry and the natural world. By layering different materials or printing on unconventional surfaces, like fabric or wood, I can add depth to the story I’m telling. Each layer becomes part of a conversation between the past, the present, and the materials themselves.

Cyanotypes also encourage spontaneity, which is key to my storytelling. The process is hands-on and unpredictable at times, with the sun and weather playing an active role. That element of chance mirrors the way stories evolve naturally—through unexpected twists, found moments, and new discoveries. This flexibility allows me to approach each piece with curiosity, weaving together materials, textures, and emotions in a way that feels honest and authentic.

Jen Dauberman | Blue Kyanite ring | 2024

Weaving and fiber arts play an integral role in your creative process. How do you see these crafts connecting to tradition and innovation?

Crafts like weaving, sewing, and quilting connect me deeply to tradition, particularly to the women in my life and history. These practices remind me of the skills and creativity passed down through generations. I think of quilting circles where women gathered, not just to create, but to build community and share their lives. That sense of connection continues today when I have art nights with my friends. It’s a modern version of those circles, a place where creativity and friendship come together.

At the same time, I’m deeply inspired by innovation and how technology can reimagine traditional art forms. For example, in my cyanotype work, I use digital tools like Photoshop to manipulate and design negatives before printing them in this historic photographic process. Photoshop allows me to adjust contrast, layer textures, and even combine multiple images, creating complex compositions that wouldn’t have been possible with traditional methods alone. By layering and experimenting digitally, I can push the boundaries of what cyanotypes can communicate, blending past and present in a single piece.

I also see digital tools as a way to personalize my work and make it unique. Whether I’m designing custom negatives for cyanotypes, or digitally enhancing my photography, these tools help me take traditional methods and make them my own. This process feels like a dialogue between history and the future, where I honor the roots of these crafts while exploring new possibilities.

For me, art is about this balance—respecting tradition while embracing innovation. The weaving of past techniques with modern technology allows me to tell new stories, share new ideas, and connect with both the history of craft and the evolving world around me.

As an art teacher, how do you balance your personal art practice with teaching and inspiring your students?

It all started with a commitment to growing as an artist. I signed up for classes to challenge myself and develop new skills, and this journey led me to transformative opportunities like Wild Acres in Little Switzerland, NC. I discovered the Redux Contemporary Art Center in Charleston, which hosted weeklong art retreats for adults, and without hesitation, I signed up for jewelry-making. That experience changed everything for me. Since then, Wild Acres has become a sacred refuge where I reconnect with my creativity every summer. It’s a bubble of inspiration, free from distractions, where I spend two full weeks immersed in making art from sunup to sundown. It was there that I rediscovered how much my soul craves creating.

While teaching is my greatest passion, nurturing my students’ voices and helping them develop confidence in who they want to become, I also recognize the importance of being a lifelong learner myself. Staying curious and open is essential to my growth, not just as a teacher but as an artist. I am deeply grateful to the incredible mentors who have guided and inspired me, such as Sandi Shackelford, Catherine Cross Tsintzos, and Olivia Ruxton Cramer. These women helped me step out of my comfort zone, embrace my potential, and thrive as both an artist and a teacher. I believe everyone deserves to have mentors who lift them up, challenge them, and encourage them to dream bigger.

Balancing teaching with my personal art practice means finding grace for myself and letting go of rigid expectations. Creating should never feel like a chore, so I make it a priority to protect time for my art. One of my favorite traditions is a modern take on the old quilting circle: I meet up with friends every Saturday at a local coffee shop, where we work on whatever creative projects bring us joy. It’s a sacred time to connect, create, and recharge, reminding me that art is as much about community as it is about individual expression.

Sometimes, I’m fortunate to work alongside my students in the studio. I think it’s essential for them to see me as not only their teacher but also a working artist who continues to explore and grow. These moments of shared creativity help demystify the artistic process and encourage my students to see art as a lifelong journey.

In our area, we are lucky to have supportive galleries that exhibit student work alongside professional artists. This collaboration not only validates their creative efforts but also shows them how their voices are part of a larger artistic community. Watching my students step into these spaces with pride is one of the most rewarding aspects of my work.

Ultimately, the balance comes from making room for both roles—teacher and artist—and understanding that they feed into one another. By pursuing my art practice, I model for my students what it means to live a creative life, and by teaching, I find endless inspiration from their energy, ideas, and potential.

Jen Dauberman | Wet Cyanotype of a luna moth “Luna” | 2024

Your exploration of jewelry making combines wearable art with metalsmithing. How do you approach designing these pieces compared to your mixed media works?

Designing jewelry feels very different from creating my mixed media works, but there’s a shared foundation of storytelling and experimentation. Since I’m still early in my metalsmithing journey, I approach each piece with a beginner’s mindset—open to learning and embracing the process. Jewelry requires me to think differently about form and function, especially how a piece will move with the body or be worn comfortably. Unlike mixed media, which often occupies a fixed space, jewelry is wearable and personal, which adds an exciting new layer of intention to my designs.

How does living and working in South Carolina influence your art, especially regarding the materials and themes you explore?

Living and working in South Carolina has had a profound impact on my art, especially in how I connect with materials and themes. Being close to the beach and spending time kayaking allows me to immerse myself in the natural beauty of the area. The textures, patterns, and colors I find in the ocean, marshes, and coastal landscapes often make their way into my work, whether it’s through cyanotypes, mixed media, or jewelry. The act of being out in nature—watching the way the light changes on the water or finding small treasures like shells or driftwood—deepens my appreciation for organic forms and reminds me to stay curious and observant.

South Carolina’s vibrant artistic community and rich traditions also inspire me. Local artists and makers here have such a strong sense of connection to where they’re from, and their work encourages me to explore my own roots and stories. There’s a deep appreciation for craftsmanship in this region, and it serves as a reminder of the importance of honoring heritage while innovating. Living here has taught me to celebrate the beauty of the everyday and find ways to weave those moments into my art. Whether I’m experimenting with materials influenced by the landscape or pulling from the spirit of creativity that surrounds me, South Carolina is always present in what I make.