About Jill

Jill Steenhuis, an Atlanta native, is a French Impressionistic Painter who lives in the south of France. Jill earned her Bachelor of Fine Arts at Sweet Briar College in 1980. Following graduation, she enrolled in The Leo Marchutz School of Painting and Drawing in Aix-en-Provence, which follows in the tradition of Cézanne.

As one of only a few artists in the world with access to the privately owned Chateau Noir (where Cézanne painted from 1865-1898), Jill works from many of the same scenes as the great Master: the pistachio tree in the courtyard, Chateau Noir seen from the olive grove, Chateau Noir seen from under the pines, and Mt. Ste. Victoire seen from Chateau Noir, to name a few. Jill also hosts week-long workshops [LINK] near her home in Aix-en-Provence, rounding out her schedule with two annual trips to the United States for charitable shows, exhibitions, and lectures.

Jill, who has appeared on “Good Morning America” and served as the Cézanne specialist for the Smithsonian Institute at the 100th anniversary of this Master’s death, has sold more than 2300 works to private collectors, museums, and art enthusiasts alike. Art, Soul & Destiny is her much-anticipated book debut and can be preordered here.

Jill has exhibited solo shows in New York City, Greenwich, Atlanta, Chicago, Washington DC, Dallas, Aix-en-Provence and Paris. Noted collectors include Mr. Peter Jennings of ABC Evening News; Mr. and Mrs. Douglas C. Billian, former owners/publishers of Art and Antiques Magazine; the late Mr. Robert Shaw of the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra; Mr. and Mrs. James A. Baker III of Houston; the late Mr. Roger Milliken of Milliken Textiles; Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Hardaway III (Master of American Foxhounds Association); The Federal Reserve Bank of Georgia; Mr. and Mrs. Dikembe Mutombo; Mr. Brad Martin of Saks Fifth Avenue Stores; Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Amos of AFLAC; Mr. and Mrs. A. J. Land; and others.

The artist resides in an old country house in Aix-en-Provence with her husband and their three sons.

Artist's Statement

Since I was a child, I have loved art and the act of creating above all else. Because my mother died when I was only 8 years old, creating filled a void for me while also becoming a concrete and spiritual activity. My father had a passion for Shakespeare and art. He gave me a book of Cézanne's paintings by John Rewald for my 16th birthday, sparking my interest in Cézanne.

In 1980, I graduated from Sweet Briar College in Virginia with a degree in Studio Art. For four years, I studied art history and had extensive technical training in all mediums of expression (painting, drawing, printmaking, sculpture). By age 21, I felt more like a scientist than an artist. The summer after graduation, I entered The Leo Marchutz School of Painting and Drawing in Aix-en-Provence—a school that taught me painting in the tradition of Cézanne. What I learned in this school changed my life. I painted "en plein air devant le motif" (outdoor painting on the site) in order to listen to nature and use my eyes to see, engaging my senses to perceive the parallel between nature and eternity. Drawing and painting like this became a way of life. My eyes began to see all things in terms of light and dark, warm and cool. I learned the discipline of painting on a daily basis and the necessity of approaching nature in a humble way. I also learned to let go of the intellect and the self, letting the brush strokes go on rapidly, uncalculated, in an organic dialogue.

By the end of my summer studying at the school, I had fallen in love—not only with the man who would become my husband, but also with my new way of life and devotion to painting and drawing. With my father’s blessing, I stayed in France and have lived here ever since. The spirit and philosophy of The Leo Marchutz School continued among those of us who remained in Aix-en-Provence through daily drawing and painting sessions at Chateau Noir. Seminars and critiques also took place out of a need to search for our own vision and to remind ourselves of the truths that Leo Marchutz had given us as a foundation. At this time, I realized The Leo Marchutz School was more a movement like Impressionism or the Barbizon School than it was an institution. It is vital to the art of this century; it is here to stay.

I was fortunate enough to maintain a studio at Chateau Noir, which is now privately owned and not open to the public. I lived and painted in the very spots Cézanne had painted, as well as in Arles where Van Gogh had been. How intimidating it was and still is to make my own contributions. The more I paint, the more I see, and the more I understand that the only way to arrive at one's own vision is through work—driving myself to go beyond my limits, stretching myself to listen, feel, smell and taste nature with my paints and canvases.

Now, with over 30 years of living and painting here in the Aix countryside, I continue to work steadily outdoors. I feel a strong attachment to the small farmer. There is nothing more exciting to me than painting a group of workers gathering garlic from the fields: the smell of the garlic and the sun-baked soil while my eyes and heart engage with the scene of garlic pickers bobbing up and down like musical notes; their straw hats like halos making them into saints—the humblest among us. My heart is in it during these moments.

As I look back on my work from recent years, I see a certain energy in it. I see that I am still attached to my influences—the great masters and all that I learned from The Leo Marchutz School—but I also perceive a step forward in my own vision. Day after day, I bring home wet canvases and hang them on the walls until there is no space left. Seeing all the work gives me courage to discover a new poetry in nature through my next painting, work that is my own and at the same time "dans la ligne d'art" (the lineage of art), as Leo put it.

Jill Steenhuis

About the Creative Process

Here is a glimpse into my process as a painter:

My soul should be showing me the way. Nothingness stares at me straight on. Where is the fertility of my creative spirit? In my painting, the catalyst is nature. Being immersed in it, my soul is moved to create. A multitude of elements envelope my being, embrace me, enter my soul. Through this act of painting, my soul engages in a dialogue with nature.

The mystery is before me. Silence—I must enter the realm of silence. Listen: not to pre-conceived notions, not to voices of the to-do list, but to the sounds of the reeds swishing together in the breeze. Smell the earth, notice the movement, like brush strokes zigzagging across the page of sky and earth in a calligraphy that shows the way to my soul.

I must render, not state; suggest, not complete; remain sensual, not intellectual; pure, not literal; courageous, not safe; and never misuse the powers I have been given.

There are so many choices. Focus on one. Which one? The one you love. How do I start: from the inside out, or from the outside in? I begin from within, placing shadows to give birth to the light.

In my silence I can hear. In my blindness I can see. In my spirit I can touch and taste the mystery. It is not what I expect. For if it was, it would be calculated; it would be safe; it would not be created because it would not be unknown. It would not be my “blue peninsula,” as Emily Dickinson calls it. The true mystery reveals itself as I work, as I let go. It is a gift. There, the blank canvas exists. It exists to make one taste the eternal.

A passage from Dante's Paradiso that says it all:

“Within its depths I saw ingathered,
bound by love in one mass,
the scattered leaves of the universe: 
Substance and accidents and their relations,
as though fused, so that what I speak of is one single flame.”