"To view an Amanda Jones painting is to step into a world where storytelling, poetry and paint become one. Her works have a quiet way of giving shape to feelings we often carry but rarely find the words to express. They invite us to pause, to linger and to see ourselves somewhere within their layers.
Her latest collection, The Colour of Water, is no different.
Created across the islands of Greece, this body of work draws us further into Amanda's imagination, weaving poetry through every brushstroke while inviting us to journey alongside her.
These paintings were not simply inspired by Greece; they were made with it.
From rooftops washed in the glow of the setting sun to hillsides scattered with Spring wildflowers, and emerald waters where sheets of canvas floated gently upon the Aegean, Amanda painted in constant conversation with the landscape. Volcanic ash found its way into pigment. Salt settled into canvas. Light became colour.
Every painting feels like it remembers the place that made it.
The result is more than an artistic body of work. The Colour of Water is a personal journal, a meditation on presence, and an invitation to witness a season of creation shaped by sea, stone and light."
- Kylie Fechner
THE STORY - PART ONE
It began in the penthouse of Mona Athens.
Four days of writing my unfolding words,
surrounded by the creative frequencies
of young Athenian artists.
This is where the colourscape crested,
as it always does whenever I listen.
We traveled to a village of abandoned cave homes, preserved in volcanic ash rock from centuries ago, with a monastery covered in mysterious Inca designs. One of these caves became our home for a time, the rest a playground for painting in. I spent my days mixing white volcanic rock with pigment from Marrakesh, spilling it into my canvas. Nights were for walking up to the ridge of the island where the locals would serve their bootleg raki and cook us a feast of their daily catch.
Pigment mixed with volcanic rock and acrylic paints folded into the canvas, kissed by gentle rain. These soft pieces marked by the ancient memories of the land that made them.
