Meet the Artist

We asked Jill Richie to bring her environment-based watercolor practice to two of our Flow State Collection prints - Bentley and Granite Camo. Needless to say, she delivered.

We caught up with her to learn a little more about her process, influences, and what it's like to juggle parenthood, outdoor hobbies, and a lively creative practice.

Tell us about yourself: Who are you, where do you live, and what do you like to do in your free time?

I’m Jill, an artist, archaeologist, and mom rooted in Fairbanks, Alaska. In this phase of life my hands are eager to paint, my head is doing its best to facilitate collaborative archaeological research, and my heart is brimming with family. Oh and my legs! They’d love to be scrambling up a mountain or gliding across corduroy, but they regularly settle for dog jogs through the neighborhood boreal forest.

My pursuits can feel disparate at times, but they’re all grounded in human interactions with the natural environment - past, present, or future.  

What about this collaboration with Skida excites you?

 Skida’s headwear has been my go-to for nearly half of my life, so it’s a dream to turn my 2D paintings into wearable products that I know and love. I’ve always felt a kinship with folks wearing Skida and have struck up many great conversations as a result - in airports, on the trail, at breweries. What a joy to be part of such a kind, cool community.

What were some of your inspirations for this print design?

Both designs are watercolor observations of ice in Alaska, though the phenomena they depict occur around the world. Bentley is inspired by my favorite shoulder season activity, nordic skating. Out on the ice, frost flowers form when water vapor in the air turns directly into a solid, resulting in a delicate, feathery texture. Granite Camo is an interpretation of cryoconite dust - small particles of wind-deposited mineral and organic material - that land on glaciers, among other things. I love that the organic pattern also mimics mineral mash-ups in rock, or lichen growth on boulders. Camouflage indeed! 

Growing up in Alaska, how did your environment shape your artistic perspective?

In my experience of Alaska, nature was - and is - an ever-present companion. Our lifestyles shift with the demands and opportunities of each season, and now, so does my creative practice. Being in tune with the rhythms of nature has made me comfortable with the time required to grow as an artist, the balance between bursts of intensity and periods of hibernation. There’s value and beauty in each season, and in knowing that another one is right around the corner. 

Parenthood seems to have sparked a shift in your creative journey. How has becoming a parent impacted your approach to art?

I’ve dabbled in visual arts for as long as I can remember, but lacked a medium and focus until becoming a parent in 2019. Eager to maintain outdoor hobbies with a body in recovery and a baby in tow, I started to include a small watercolor kit in my bag when we’d venture out as a family. Painting, it turned out, was a great thing for me to do while taking a break on the skin track or nursing a newborn in the foothills. I didn’t always make it to the top of every mountain, but these sketches, pauses, and observations laid the foundation for a stable creative practice and a new relationship with nature.

Now, with a 1 and 5 year old, I have to be very intentional about making time for art (and, you know, sleeping and eating), but I love that my kids get to be part of the creative journey.

Reading about how your art can be an act of reciprocity, how does your art create conversation with nature and contribute to environmental advocacy?

Embedding my painting process in nature encourages an intimate relationship with the environment. Some days my brushes study the physical characteristics of a landscape, other times they let me
explore curiosities beyond aesthetics. Always, the resulting works are influenced by the environment in which they were created. Local streams activate my palette, sun, wind and rain dictate drying times, a squished mosquito occasionally makes its way into the composition. I think of these paintings as a visual interpretation of being in conversation with the environment.

Individual pieces then have the ability to connect with the wider world; to communicate information, support a cause, amplify a message. I dream of my little paintings having an impact on the big picture - and I’m always learning new ways to step towards that goal. 

Can you share one piece of advice for others looking to develop their own creativity?

A reframe that I regularly revisit is quantity over quality - which feels counterintuitive, but hear me out. Instead of trying to make one perfect sketch, I aim to fill up the sketchbook. Rather than saving a tube of paint for a special project, my goal is to use it up and learn how that color works. When I’m more invested in the process than the outcome, I end up happier with the experience and the resulting work.

What projects or themes are you currently exploring, and what can we expect to see from you in the future? Are there any upcoming exhibitions or collaborations that you're excited about?

I’m endlessly curious about the Circumpolar North and am especially interested in using art as a tool for observation and education around environmental change. I look forward to diving into these themes through group exhibits, science and art collaborations, and artist residencies in the coming years.