Opening January 22 at David Kordansky Gallery in Los Angeles, “Plants and Animals” presents Jonas Wood’s latest body of work, full of allusions to others. Ahead of the show, the artist speaks to Cultured about the power of storytelling in his paintings.

Opening January 22 at David Kordansky Gallery in Los Angeles, “Plants and Animals” presents Jonas Wood’s latest body of work, full of allusions to others.

WORDS

WORDS

DATE:

SHARE

Twitter
LinkedIn
Facebook
Email

SHARE

Facebook
Twitter
LinkedIn
Email

Think of paintings of dogs, and what springs to mind? Something by Edwin Landseer or George Stubbs, perhaps? Dogs playing poker? The genre is not known for its artistic depth or profundity, but Jonas Wood has never been afraid of inauspicious subject matter.

Early on, he became known for paintings of basketball players, tennis courts and even golf courses, which he showed alongside domestic interiors, still lives (often including potted plants), portraits and landscapes. Wood is a stridently contemporary painter who is simultaneously beholden to tradition and the history of his craft.  

man painting from photo
Jonas Wood in his studio painting Hanalei Bay (2021). Photography by Aubrey Mayer, courtesy David Kordansky Gallery.

Wood’s new exhibition at David Kordansky Gallery, “Plants and Animals,” opening January 22, is his first in his hometown of Los Angeles for four years. Of the various fauna that feature in these new paintings, drawings and prints—including gharials, a deer, a leopard, giraffes and cats—the most frequent are dogs.

“I just like dogs,” Wood explained when I met up with him at the gallery during the show’s installation. None of the dogs depicted are Wood’s own, Robot, who has featured in many of his paintings in the past and sadly passed away last year. Wood found most of his reference photographs of the canines on Instagram.

painting of five dogs
Jonas Wood, 5 Dogs, 2019. Photography by Marten Elder, courtesy David Kordansky Gallery.

There is a temptation, when looking at Wood’s work, to hunt for biographical insights and private narratives. Many of his pictures are extremely personal—such as C.M.Z. House on M.V. with Ptolemy (2021), based on photos taken 40 years ago by the artist’s father of the family’s cat. Others are not. There’s no way, really, to tell the difference.

“I'd like to think that it's all sort of real. But painting's not real,” Wood says. Patterned Interior with Mar Vista View (2020), for instance, doesn’t show his living room, although he has added a view through the window of his old house. The rest is appropriated from a photograph from the 1980s. Except for the plant. That’s Wood’s.

I ask if the dreamy Ravello, Italy (2021) was painted during a magical pandemic escape? Far from it, Wood replies. The scene comes from a picture his cousin sent him about 10 years ago, when he was getting married in Italy, asking Wood to make a watercolor for the invitation. Wood saved the image (which he does a lot) and revisited it for this painting in acrylic and oils. Only later when Wood did a reverse Google image search did he discover that the photograph is a generic and widely reproduced shot that his cousin didn’t take, and likely never even saw. He doesn’t mind.

painting of floral view
Jonas Wood, Ravello, Italy, 2021.
man in studio posing
Jonas Wood in his studio in Los Angeles.
painting of rice field and mountain
Jonas Wood, Hanalei Bay (2021).
Jonas Wood, Patterned Interior with Mar Vista View, 2020.

“It's the poignancy and the excellence of the composition and the subject matter that I choose, and how it's all balanced together,” he says. Wood is an artist who is committed above all else to what happens inside his pictures. Maybe that’s why his work is so often self-referential, as in the mise-en-abyme of BBall Studio (2021) which includes a glimpse of Patterned Interior with Mar Vista View hanging on the wall.

“I'm like a storyteller,” he says. “Some of the stories are true. And some of them aren't true.” The important thing is that they feel true.

Generic selectors
Exact matches only
Search in title
Search in content
Post Type Selectors

Not a Doomscroll. A Deep Dive.

Subscribe now for print that informs, inspires, and doesn’t get lost in the feed.

You’ve almost hit your limit.

You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.

You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.

GET ACCESS

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

Want more in your life?

For less than the price of a cocktail, you can help independent journalism thrive.

Pop-Up-1_c
Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here
Pop-Up-1_c

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

Want more in your life?

For less than the price of a cocktail, you can help independent journalism thrive.

Pop-Up-1_c
Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here
Pop-Up-1_c

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

You’ve almost hit your limit.

You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.

You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.
Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here
You’re approaching your limit of complementary articles. For expanded access, become a digital subscriber for less than $2 a week.

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

Want more in your life?

For less than the price of a cocktail, you can help independent journalism thrive.

Pop-Up-1_c

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

Pop-Up-1_c

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

We have so much more to tell you.

You’ve reached your limit.

Sign up for a digital subscription, starting at less than $2 a week.

Already a Subscriber? Sign in Here

Want a seat at the table? To continue reading this article, sign up today.

Support independent criticism for $10/month (or just $110/year).

Already a subscriber? Log in.