Jessica Farrell

How has your nomadic lifestyle influenced your artistic approach and the materials you use in your work?

My nomadic lifestyle has shaped every part of my artistic approach. Traveling through so many different cultures, from the Caribbean roots of my father, to my time in Hawaii, the Maldives, Australia, and all across Europe has given me a deep appreciation for diversity in aesthetics, storytelling, and materials. I’ve always been drawn to things with history: vintage magazines, old comics, second-hand clothes,  objects that already carry a story.

Because I moved around so much, I started working with what I could find: paper, fabric paint, old prints, forgotten books. I began making collages using materials I picked up along the way, and experimenting with techniques that didn’t require a studio or expensive tools,  just curiosity and imagination. My art is deeply connected to movement, memory, and transformation. I love turning overlooked or discarded things into something new and meaningful. It’s like giving fragments of the past a new voice.

Jessica Farrell | Horse Cinema | 2024

Can you tell us more about the connection between your Caribbean-Indigenous roots and the themes in your collages?

I’ve always been a seeker, searching for places, experiences, belonging, and ways to express myself. That inner search has deeply influenced my art. My Caribbean-Indigenous roots are not always visible in a direct or literal way, but they’re part of my inner compass. They show up more emotionally, intuitively. Like an undercurrent guiding me.

It’s less about specific cultural symbols and more about a feeling, a connection to depth, to history, to something greater than myself. In my collages, I assemble fragments, paper, color, texture. Much like how identity is built when you come from multiple worlds. That layering, that sense of in-betweenness, is perhaps the strongest reflection of my roots.

So my work isn’t necessarily a direct expression of where I come from, but more like an echo, quietly woven into everything I create, alongside all the experiences I’ve gathered on my journey.

Jessica Farrell | Beachwalk

Your work often incorporates vintage materials like old newspapers and comics. How do you select these materials, and what stories do they carry for you?

Most of the materials I use, old newspapers, comics, sewing patterns etc, come from flea markets, classifieds, or platforms like eBay. I love the treasure hunt aspect of it. Each paper, each book or comic I find, has its own story — and sometimes, I get to hear it directly from the people letting it go. There was a woman whose mother had kept decades of sewing magazines, and after her passing, she wanted them to go to someone who would make something meaningful out of them. Moments like that stay with me.

Many of the materials I use come from former East Germany, or from the 60s and 70s — and it’s fascinating to see how much of history lives in these pages. Ads, language, layouts, even what was considered important back then — sometimes it’s deeply political, like articles on environmental issues from 1972, and other times it’s playful or naive, like the comics from childhood. Both sides interest me. They show how people dreamt, feared, loved, organized their lives — it’s all there, between the lines.

I’m also drawn to typography and the visual character of text itself. I often choose materials not just for what they say, but for how they feel — the color of the paper, the fonts, the way the ink has aged. My process is intuitive: sometimes I find the story in the material, and other times, the material finds its story through the collage.

Jessica Farrell | Espresso | 2024

Sustainability is a core theme in your art. How do you feel your work contributes to the conversation around repurposing and memory?

Sustainability is present in my work in a very organic way, not just as a practice, but as a mindset. I work almost exclusively with materials that already had a life. These were never meant to be “art,” but they carry stories, emotions, and traces of the past. By reusing them, I’m not just recycling, I’m honoring memory, and inviting it into a new conversation.

Repurposing, for me, is a way of slowing down. In a world that constantly pushes us to consume and move on, I choose to pause and look at what’s already here to find value in the overlooked. There’s a real beauty in what has aged, been folded, scribbled on, or forgotten. These marks of time are part of the soul of my work.

I think that’s where sustainability and memory meet: in the act of transformation. It’s not about preserving things in a museum-like way, but about keeping them alive by letting them change. My hope is that my work reminds people that everything, even what seems outdated or broken, can be part of something new, meaningful, and beautiful.

Jessica Farrell | Horse On Horse

How do you balance the nostalgia of the past with the creative reinvention you aim to achieve in your collages?

For me, nostalgia isn’t about looking back with longing. It’s more like a soft filter through which I see the materials I work with. Old paper, vintage comics, forgotten texts, they all carry emotional weight, echoes of another time. But my goal isn’t to recreate the past. I use it as raw material, as texture, as voice, but I rearrange it, disrupt it, reimagine it.

There’s a fine balance between honoring what something was and letting it become something else. That’s what I find exciting in collage. it’s a conversation between past and present. I don’t just collect. I intervene. I might cut a page from a 1960s sewing magazine and pair it with a manga scene from the 80s, then dye it with textile paint and layer it into something completely new. The result often feels familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Like a memory you can’t quite place.

So the past is always present in my work, but it’s not fixed. It’s fluid, playful, sometimes ironic. I think that’s where the transformation happens. When nostalgia becomes a springboard, not an anchor.

Jessica Farrell | Cactus (Desert Series) | 2025

Could you share the process behind transforming old materials into new narratives through your collages? What is the most rewarding part of that transformation for you?

When I start a collage, I usually begin with an idea or a theme. Right now, I’m working on a “Western series”, it’s playful and a bit ironic. I’ve always loved the aesthetics of old cowboy films. The colors, the attitude, the sense of drama. Once I have a concept in mind, I make a rough sketch and think about the color palette I want to use.

I always keep rolls of hand-dyed paper ready. Magazine pages, comics, vintage prints, all tinted with textile paint. From there, the process becomes intuitive. I often discover new ideas while I’m working. Even though I’m quite a spontaneous and energetic person, this kind of work has taught me to slow down, to focus, and to be precise. It’s a meditative process of cutting, layering, stepping back, changing direction.

The most rewarding part is that final moment when I look at the piece and feel surprised how it came together. It’s as if the fragments have found their own rhythm, and I’ve just helped them meet. That feeling, when chaos becomes harmony.

Jessica Farrell | Horse (Desert Series) | 2025

How do your travels across Europe continue to shape your creative output? Are there specific experiences or places that have particularly impacted your art?

Travel has always been essential to my creative process. Each place I’ve lived or visited has left a mark. Visually, emotionally, and energetically. The landscapes around the Salton Sea and Palmdale in the California desert had a big impact on me. The textures, the light, the rawness. Hawaii in the early ‘90s also shaped me deeply. The surf lifestyle, the beauty and connection to nature, the laid-back energy. All of that still echoes in my work.

But it’s not just the iconic places. Every journey, even small ones across Europe in my van, feeds into my work. It’s the people I meet, the stories I hear, the objects I find. They all become part of the layers I create.

Lately, I’ve been thinking more about turning inward. I feel a strong pull to explore my own story more openly. The complex parts, the imperfect chapters. Like every good story, mine has had its struggles, but it’s made me who I am. I think my future work will reflect that more. Not just the places I’ve been, but the emotional landscapes I’ve moved through. For me, that’s also part of the journey and maybe the most meaningful one.