Unveiling the Erogenous: The Power of Intimate Art

A Conversation with the Artist

Interviewer: Jessica, your work clearly turns heads. For someone just discovering you—perhaps not a typical gallery-goer—what is your new work fundamentally about?

Jessica Webster: My latest body of work is a rebellion from the conventional white cube model. It’s an intimate space where I share the playful, mischievous, and sensual elements of my creative process. These paintings and prints are free-flowing symbols of play, designed to connect with a broader audience. In my truly gleeful painting practice, I create satyric ‘glimmers’ that puncture the routine nature of the everyday, thus moving away from the rational regulation of modern life.

I: You mentioned a "rebellion." But your biography also speaks to a PhD in aesthetic philosophy and psychoanalysis, as well as a profound personal journey following a life-altering event. How does that intellectual and personal rigour inform your current focus on sensuality?

JW: My art is a powerful evolution. My intense academic era gave me an unparalleled depth of understanding of the human psyche and embodied experience. Now, my work transforms the narrative of personal trauma into one of pleasure, intimacy, and potent life force. Embracing the erotic is an act of reclaiming agency and sensuality on my own terms. My current practice is a distilled culmination—its healing made manifest.

I: Your focus on the miniature format is highly unusual for contemporary painting. Why the choice of small-scale over large-scale works?

JW: The small scale is intentional. It’s both a practical liberation, offering portability (especially for an artist who uses a wheelchair), and a powerful artistic strategy. Miniatures demand a heightened sense of focus and an extended period of looking, creating a profound, almost secretive, intimacy with the viewer. What appears small can suddenly feel immense, offering a compelling "god-like perspective" of discovery. If anything, I find that fun.

I: Your work uses erotic themes by a woman living with a disability in a South African context. Is this art inherently political?

JW: Absolutely. My independent approach prioritises genuine human connection over traditional conformity. Art about the body, especially erotic art by a woman living with a disability in South Africa, is inherently liberating. It challenges norms, subverts the traditional gaze, and carves out a necessary space for nuanced experiences. It’s about forging a unique path where lived experience and artistic vision converge.

I: It seems the work is made specifically for intimate home interiors rather than the gallery. How does this change the purpose of your art?

JW: It makes the work accessible and personal. My art is made in the spirit of the emotional, sensual engagement that can only take place in the intimacy of home. I avoid the "white cube" sterility. The prints and originals are designed to be building blocks for an individual's unique visual story—whether in a grid or as a powerful singular accent—transforming a space into a vibrant reflection of the self.

I: Your prints—acrylic and aluminium—are not simple reproductions. Can you briefly explain the relationship between your original paintings and the prints?

JW: The original painting provides the textured surface and embodied individuality. I then scan them at 8K resolution to capture every fine detail. I rework each image digitally, a lengthy, specific process of recomposition. The final prints—whether the glossy, vivid acrylic or the sleek, sultry aluminium—are technically and materially distinct artworks. They retain the intimate detail of the miniature but amplify it for modern display.

I: For someone new to collecting sensual art, where would you recommend they start?

JW: Start with what speaks to you. The work flirts with the taboo but is rooted in taste, composition, and theory. Look at the Broadway or Firmlight series for playful, visually lush introductions. Or, for moody sensuality, explore Blue Sappho and Slow Autumn. You don't need to be a provocateur; you need a penchant for visual intrigue.

I: What do you ultimately hope someone feels when they hang one of your works?

JW: A smirk. A tingle. A glimmer. A sense that their space—and their life—just got a little more interesting.