• Work

About

Jenna Clark is a maker of mixed media, textiles, drawings, sculptures, and soundscapes. Her work has been performed and exhibited nationally at such places as: Gadsden Museum of Art, AL, AEIVA, Birmingham, AL, Boca Raton Innovation Center, FL, ATHICA, Athens, GA, and MadArts Museum, Dania Beach, FL. She is a current MFA candidate at FAU where she has been awarded the Florida Atlantic University Presidential Fellowship, Sheila Ivory Award, and Friedland Grant.

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• Artist Statement

Straddling the spheres of fine art and craft, my work investigates storytelling as means of placemaking. My current works highlight the fragmentation of interpersonal and communal relationships that occurs from living in a productivity-driven society and interacting digitally through social media interfaces. I collect and depict stories from in-person interviews, oral history collection, and conversations from my own relationships that illustrate the identities of a place or time. These stories act as grounding and orienting reflections, in a dissociated and socially siloed culture. Each story centers on real life experiences that reveal attachments to place, people and the divine.
These works take the form of sculptural drawings and collages, projected installations, thematic soundscapes, printed and quilted textiles, musical performances, and found-object assemblages. From the gathered stories, I depict different motifs that physically represent imagery communicated as memories, thoughts, and experiences on different fibers and paper substrates, and I often use stitching as mark-making to embed the images in the material.
Through depicting the experiences of myself and others, I not only tell stories, but allow audiences to experience them visually, spatially, and sonically, expanding on the intersection of both visual and auditory senses in art, to create a memory-like atmosphere and interactive experiential spaces. Rather than privileging conversational brevity, the stories I tell encourage audiences to spend time reflecting on connection points to personal and interpersonal histories, shared cultural memory, and the potential hereafter. And, in so doing, uncovers personal and communal histories that may be otherwise overlooked as mundane or forgotten.

• CV

Education
BA. Studio Art, magna cum laude, University of Alabama at Birmingham
MFA. Studio Art, Florida Atlantic University (Expected) 2027Exhibition Record
2026 - Micro/Macro, T-10, Boca Raton, FL
2026 - SHAPE III, Callanwolde Fine Arts Center, Atlanta, GA
2025 - A Common Thread, The Bells Galley, Dothan, AL
2025 - Radical Imperfection, Athens Institute For Contemporary Art, Athens, GA
2025 - Displacement-Placement-Replacement, Mad Arts Museum, Dania Beach, FL
2025 - MFA Exhibition, Boca Raton Innovation Center, Boca Raton, FL
2025 - CAST Party, Delaire Country Club, Delray, FL
2025 - Juried Student Exhibition, Schmidt Galley Public Space, Boca Raton, FL
2024 - Feminine “I”, A & M University Art Gallery, Huntsville, AL
2024 - STofART UAB, Gadsden Museum of Art, Gadsden, AL
2024 - Montgomery Art Guild Members Exhibit, Montgomery Art Center, Montgomery, AL
2024 - West Alabama Juried Show, The Arts Council Gallery at the DW Cultural Arts Center, Tuscaloosa, AL
2024 - Sweet Wreath Speaks, Railroad Park, Birmingham, AL
2024 - 48th Annual Juried Student Exhibition, AEIVA, Birmingham, AL
2023 - 57th Annual Montgomery Art Guild Regions Bank Exhibition, Montgomery, AL
2023 - Curative Plants of Alabama, Mervyn Sterne Library, UAB, Birmingham, AL
2023 - 47th Annual Juried Student Exhibition, AEIVA, Birmingham, AL
2023 - West Alabama Juried Show, The Arts Council Gallery at the DW Cultural Arts Center, Tuscaloosa, AL
2022 - Double Vision: Paintings and Videos by UAB Students, Art Lab, UAB, Birmingham, AL
2022 - Sweet Wreath: Spring Fling, Clubhouse on Highland, Birmingham, AL
2021 - The Salon, Art Lab, University of Alabama at Birmingham, Birmingham, AL
2021 - Foundations Exhibition: Death and Transformation, Art Lab, UAB, Birmingham, ALPerformances and Installations
2026 - HOME ONCE. MAKEBHM, Birmingham, AL (forthcoming)
2026 - HOME ONCE, Sumac Collage, Greensboro, AL
2025 - Frame of Connection, Hulsey Center for the Arts, Birmingham, ALAwards and Fellowships
2026 - Friedland Grant, contributed by the FAU VAAH Awards & Scholarships Committee
2025 - Friedland Grant, contributed by the FAU VAAH Awards & Scholarships Committee
2024 - Florida Atlantic University Presidential Fellowship (2024-2026)
2024 - Sheila Ivory Award, contributed by the FAU VAAH Awards & Scholarships Committee
2024 - West Alabama Juried Show, Cash Award, contributed by The Arts Council of TuscaloosaPublications
2026 - Burnaway DIY INDEX, (HOME ONCE featured in Sumac Cottage Article)
2022 - Aura: Ex Nihilo! Volume 49, Issue No. 1, pp. 74-75Commissions
Public
2021 - Retro Speakers (10x11ft.), Latex paint on sheetrock. The Modern House, Birmingham, AL
2021 - Greenery Latte (3x3ft.), Latex paint on sheetrock. The Modern House, Birmingham, AL
2021 - The Modern House…Community (6x5ft.), Latex paint on wood lap-siding, The Modern House, Birmingham, AL
2018 - The Building (24x36in.), Acrylic paint on canvas, Clay Public Library, Clay, AL
2017 - Cherry Blossoms (6x4ft.), Clay Public Library, Clay, ALPrivate
2022 - First (12x12in.) Acrylic paint on canvas, Birmingham, AL
2020 - Colored Hex (9x12ft.), Latex paint on sheetrock wall-face, Birmingham, AL
2019 - The Quilts (13x35ft.), Latex paint on tin lap-siding, Oneonta, ALProfessional Service
2025 - Graduate Teaching Assistant, Florida Atlantic University, Boca Raton, FL
2023 - Ceramic Design and Production, Susan Gordon Pottery, Homewood, AL
2022 - Computer Service and Graphic Design, Homewood Public Library, Homewood, AL
2022 - Website and Graphic Design, Sweet Wreath, Irondale, AL

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MadArt Installation

Hulsey Center Performance

HOME ONCE

Installation and Performance at Sumac Cottage, Greensboro, AL

Home Once explores four stories centering on ideas of home, shelter, and places of belonging. Part musical performance, part visual installation, this body of work features four story quilts & simi-improvisational musical scores that highlight the fragmentation of interpersonal and communal relationships that occur from interacting through digital interfaces, by displaying different personal stories in both part and whole. These stories act as grounding orientations, abstracted reflections, and vignettes of place/landscape within North and Central Alabama.

Story Quilts
Each double-sided quilt was created using a combination of site specific naturally made dyes and found fabrics. Each quilt correlates to one of the four stories and contains imagery drawn from an individual story.

• Photographs by Aliza Scott

Story Scores
Each story has a corresponding musical score. These scores are performed simi-Improvisationally and contain sounds depicting scenes found within each story. For example, the soft floating melodies of an early morning, soaring/swooning notes that fade into bossa nova rhythms, bird chirps pared with sounds of heavy machinery, and reverent chimes mirroring a conversation.

_{Jenna Alyse Clark - Harmonium/Vocals
Jasper Lee - Pyraharp
Ryan Brown - Upright Bass
Sam Herman - Percussion}

• Photographs by Aliza Scott

Stories

New Red MoonWhen I was in middle school I had some close friends with some very lax parents. I was born and raised in Alabaster, AL. We were a cow town for many years, but you'd only know by the street signs and remarks from older folks suddenly stricken by memory. "Oh! Did you know this all used to be pastures out here? Ms. Nina, from church? Her daddy owned all this before it became the Publix. That's why it's called Kent Dairy Road, for Ms. Nina's daddy. Nina Kent. Isn't she sweet?"
I lived there in a time when town first became city; my elementary school was built just before I started attending. The grocery stores were either old or new. Everywhere was suddenly half-developed, a recipient of immediate change followed by a slump of inconsistency or over-spending. Parking lots were built and abandoned. Freshly poured concrete driveways led only into the red dirt & brush. Real estate signs with different smiling faces went up and down while the plants grew.
In that half-developed world I found myself quite often, marvelling. Green & brown gave way to the red & orange clay. The massive yellow machines sat on the fringes of their new creations. Their blast zones. Craters of profit-to-be.
These places were so numerous and so quickly erected (and left alone) that my friends and I found them great places to get away. Who would be there if no one was working? There was nothing to steal or watch over. A perfect place for imagination. A red blank slate.In Central Alabama one is never far from a hill or mountain. They are constant companions, watching your back & looking over your shoulder. It's a funny feeling then, when suddenly, at the top of a large hill, you can no longer feel them. This is not like being on a plain, where the level horizon leads on forever, and it's not like the peak of a mountain, where the steep slope can easily reveal the ground below and the surrounding peaks. This, only in the foothills of the Appalachians, is like being on The Moon. Or perhaps a popular interpretation of the heavenly body. A small and walkable sphere, here covered in trees that get shorter in the near distance with the curve of the earth. You can see that the ground around you slopes down into the unknown; only the tops of the trees and the blue sky serve as orientation. The crests of the surrounding hills are surely just below, but there's no way to tell. Here you are, space walking. Looking up to the sky, expecting the Earth to appear as the blue marble far below.This is where I found myself at the age of 11, alone with 3 other children on the back of a newly named All Terrain Vehicle. We would speed along the trails behind the newly built subdivisions until we found it: the red clearing. We had found the new world. We stayed there for a while. Gazing around at the New Red Moon.- Ryan Brown

FamiliarBy now I was heavily into playing bossa nova records at half speed while falling asleep, leaving the windows cracked to feel the damp electric air drift in. I call this music "unknown jungle." It was early April. Laying on the floor, I trace the space above me with my fingers, staring at the ceiling fan, thinking about three things: you, how to crochet a sunset, a song called space dog, and...let's just say "phantasms." Well maybe four things. I had spray painted my hair gold and the fumes were making me dizzy. Why did I do that. Oh, because I'd been reading Iron Hans and wanted to really "feel the story." I kept staring at the ceiling fan. The air was alive from a thunderstorm hovering around somewhere. It was like there was no temperature.
I heard a rustling outside and a familiar cry. I got up and opened the kitchen door. The black cat peered up from the brick steps in the dark.
"Do you want to come in?" I asked. Her eyes glowed. You know how animals can seem inquisitive but without emotion. A real pure way of looking.
"Well....maybe just for a little while," she said.
"I saw you at the edge of the yard earlier. I hope you've pissed to your heart's content."
"My work is never done," she sighed and padded into the kitchen. I put the kettle on.
"I heard you singing..." she said.
"Just trying to talk to ghosts. They never listen..."
"Why do you stay here, in this house?"
"I guess I'm more comfortable in old houses. Everything is worn in and the materials are...different. It's like there's a story already happening that you step into. You kind of take on a role...living in relation to a pre-existing history...palpable in it's texture..."
"Oh, I guess I've never done that," she murmured. "I just visit places..."
"If you're a human you have to have a place to stay. People call this 'home.' Home is where no one can find you."
"Well...I found you," she mewed. I paused as the music in the other room crackled and swelled.
"I mean...home is where no one can bother you. Think about it. You have to pay just to exist in a space. We're all living in borrowed space. You pay the landlord, and the power company people just to leave you alone. Alone to live. A paradox. I also realized at some point I have too many mirror neurons...very sensitive to other people's vibrations. I just mirror them back as a form of camouflage. So I definitely need a place to be alone. Is that how everyone is?"
She patiently looked at me with her luminous green eyes.
"I'd like to renounce my position if I may...can we switch places and you be the human?"
"No."
The kettle was whistling. I poured a cup of tea.
"Well, here's to marmalade & learnin' the hard way!" I said, kind of laughing.
"Bring out the butter and toast please," she cried.
I sighed, tapping a spoon on the table, looking at her.
But you you you, where are yew? I can't stay here forever... I thought to myself, quietly.
I set a plate of toast on the floor and sat back down, staring into space. I saw her eyes (not the cat's). It seems like where I belong, really really, is there....
The music had stopped. I flipped the record over. Quick clouds covered the moon. Thunder nearby. The door was still open. She looked up from her plate at me. I held the cup of tea to my cheek and closed my eyes. A whole string section swooned. So many sounds at once it's impossible to distinguish any single voice.
I want to make for the horizon like a little animal. I am hidden but I can't stay. The record spins and the sky spins and my mind spins. Out of all possible worlds I find myself in this one.- Jasper Lee

Packing the World- But the worst thing already happened.
- Okay, yeah, you’re right.
- So I don’t see why it matters.
- Yeah.
- And what are we supposed to do with all this shit?
…
- I can’t even think about it.
- We’re going to have to sort through it. Decide what we want to keep, what we want to sell. What just needs to be thrown out.
- I can’t think about it.
- It’s a lot.
- It’s too much.
- We’ll start with just this room. The bookshelf is really nice, and obviously someone will want the TV. We can get a box started for all the framed pictures.
- It’s too much.
…
- Do you remember when she used to take us up on Green Mountain in the summer? We would always see those huge snapping turtles floating around.
- I mostly remember catching frogs and bringing them back home to put in the garden.
- I was always creeped out by those turtles. The way their eyes didn’t move and there was like moss growing on their shells.
- Those tiny little blue and orange frogs. They probably didn’t live too long out there with Figaro and Lilly prowling around.
- Damn turtles just looked so angry.
…
…
- Her death wasn’t supposed to be a tragedy.
…
- But it was.
- Yeah.
- And now we have to do this.
- I can’t think about it.
- Why did she keep all this shit?
- I guess she liked it.
- How many cookie tins does one person need?
…
- It’s not like she used them. When is the last time you saw any of these being used?
- I mean I sort of like them. The one with the birds is really pretty.
- So do you want to keep that one?
- I don’t know.
- Can I throw the rest of them away?
- I don’t know.
- We have to do this.
- I really just can’t even think about it.
…
…
- How do you eat an elephant?
…
- One bite at a time.
- Fuck an elephant.
- I’m just trying to help.Two anoles were stuck to the window outside, looking in. The heat from the living room radiated through the glass and warmed the adhesive setae of their feet. One blinked softly, relaxed, and took a deep breath. The other was beginning to show patches of dull skin detach, preparing to shed.The moon was glowing, and its reflection danced like a vixen on the cool water of the creek below.- Sam Herman

Growing in GlassSunlight sneaked in through the eastward window (it seemed always very early in the morning as I remember it). The kitchen windowsill was filled with an array of tiny vases. These vases varied in size, style, and tent - but they were all made of glass. This is important because you could see right through them. Most importantly, you could see what was inside.There sat the tiniest of plant propagations. Each clipping suspended in water, cut from a mature plant, preparing to become a new thing from the old. Upon reflection, these propagations taught me two important things about observing life and how to be alive myself.1.) To see growth is to be patient.
2.) To grow is to be nurtured.In these tiny vases, before the sprigs (that would one day become proper plants) are housed in soil, they are first suspended in water. It is in this suspension that they begin to form the first of their infant roots.Each day I would wake up to see the sun beaming through the silhouettes of glass vessels that mesmerizingly backlit the forming roots. The roots, floating, often looked like loosely draping threads to me. Very few days, and distant in their succession, I would say to myself “they have grown so much since I last stopped to notice.” How could this be? I marvel at them daily. Morning, noon, and night. But growth often takes time; and, if you’re not careful you miss seeing it entirely.This is the benefit of growing in glass - you can see growth that is often so gradual, it goes unnoticed.There were also times when they did not grow… When the house was particularly cold, or tired, or simply sad - the tiny propagations were forgotten. The vases would become cloudy and murky around the walls. The sprigs persisted in their suspended life, yet their growth was stagnant. In order to flourish, they needed tending.This is the benefit of growing in glass - when adversity arises, someone can intervene to help kindle new growth.I recall this scene to my memory nearly every day. A humble kitchen windowsill that I’ve remembered, and undoubtedly romanticized, for much of my life. I remember it, yes, for it’s undeniable beauty, but more so for the questions it causes me to ask:What if the growth of people could be as visible as in translucent glass?
Would I extend more grace to myself?
More empathy to others?
Like the roots growing in glass, would I marvel at the complexity and resilience of those all around me?It is my sincerest hope and prayer.-Jenna Alyse Clark

• Photographs by Aliza Scott