Check Out Jennifer Way’s Story

Today we’d like to introduce you to Jennifer Way

Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
I had a beautiful life that ended when my husband died at age 48. We met at eight years old on the first day of camp. I think a lot about how my identity was formed in relation to that place. Camp was our sacred space, so we returned to marry there, and when he died, I held his memorial service there as well. With his death, I lost my future and my past along with everything I thought I knew about my life.

I reached depths of sorrow I didn’t even know were possible. Grief deepened me. Grief broke me open. I discovered that grief greatly expanded my emotional depth and range. I saw more. I felt more. I was compelled to use art to reflect this increased emotional capacity, a way to communicate and share what I was learning. Art took on a whole new priority in my life.

That spiritual and creative process birthed my most recent book, The Mysterious Gifts of Grief. This book blends my poetry, abstract paintings, and even notes I wrote to myself at 3 am while sitting in the ICU.

When it came time to launch this project, I felt called to lead a pilgrimage to camp, where my old life started and ended. I wanted to hold a vigil, something intimate to honor what grief taught me and to celebrate healing and new life. I wanted to birth a new identity, there on that dirt. I wanted to share this experience with my dearest friends and patrons as witnesses.
Choosing such a remote location for my book launch and art show was risky. This is an incredibly expensive and difficult place to get to. It’s very rural, off two dirt roads. You must fly in and then drive for hours to find this place. We didn’t know if the weather would hold up, and there’s no heat at a summer camp. The chapel itself needed a renovation.

Over 70 people showed up. People flew in from Houston, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Nashville, Indiana and more. Some people drove 4-5 hours each way. Some dear friends and some strangers, but we all felt the need to come together to honor grief and celebrate healing–not just my healing, but all of our healing.

Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
Grief is a terrible, overwhelming experience that rendered me powerless. I was so afraid of it. But after living in grief, I very slowly started to learn how to listen to grief, to decode it and recognize and accept the gifts it was giving me.

Grief freed me from all fear of consequences. The worst thing that could possibly happen to me happened, and I still woke up the next day. I realized that nothing could touch me. It brought me wildness and solitude, intimacy and certainty, with-ness and witness. I began to find incredible beauty in these gifts, which inspired me to express them in poetry and art.
Obstacles and challenges lead me to dive deeper into my creativity. I seek resources from unexplored or unfamiliar sources. Time and time again, the process rewards my patient curiosity and exploration.

How I live is absolutely reflected in how I paint. There’s certainly intention and skill, but then things just happen, paint just moves. I’ve learned to recognize and value the beauty of the organic – to simply respond to what is happening and keep going until I create a piece that speaks to me. It’s a balance of intention and happenstance. There’s immense beauty and deep satisfaction in sharing my inner experience through my art.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I am driven to document and express what we share as the most vulnerable human experiences–where we find joy and sorrow, a sense of faith and awe. My art lives in the center of nature and beauty, faith and love. It serves as a sort of compass for me.

I am in awe that the energy of my internal and emotional work can live outside my body. When I paint, that emotional energy travels down my arm and through my brush where I mark a canvas. That energy becomes accessible for others to see and feel. Even people I’ve never met or had any experience with can walk up to that painting and sense the energy I expressed there. Through the lens of their own experience, they can sense my energy that now lives independently in that painting. It’s a communion of sorts.

I got to see this in action like never before with this show. It was beautiful, and so much bigger than me-–bigger than just the sum of my work as well. It is such a profound shared experience. Visual language is incredibly intimate and powerful.

How do you think about happiness?
I chose new life. I gave it the time and space it needed to develop around me. I moved from Nashville, Tennessee to a rural town in northern Michigan and remarried. My life became much smaller, but my world got so much bigger. I spend 95% of my time within 5 miles of my home, which breeds an interesting familiarity. My streamlined lifestyle gives me time and the presence of mind to notice things.

I found that I love knowing where the patches of cattails are, which trees the eagles prefer, and how many deer are in the local herd. I love knowing which beach has the best stones or the best morning light. I work in alignment with the seasons, which gives me a freedom I’ve never had before.

I tend to chase things that inspire feelings of awe. A starry night, the fish running the river, stumbling onto a gorgeous view or unexpected scene, a color or an organic brushstroke–these things make me feel grounded and fill me with goodness. I notice that I cannot schedule, plan for, or conjure awe. I must discover it.

For me, joy comes through a feeling of community or connection. I find a lot of joy in small acts of ordinary kindness like sharing a batch of soup with my neighbor or delivering a bouquet of flowers from a farm stand to someone who may need some brightening.

We all walk different paths, but we come together over shared experiences. That is what I love so much about abstract art: it lets us capture a specific feeling or energy and visually communicate it to others. We all have our unique experiences and perspectives and by sharing that through art, we are less alone. I am endlessly fascinated with the power of that phenomenon.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://wayofjen.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/wayofjen/
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@wayofjen
• Other: https://www.wayofjen.com/products/p/the-mysterious-gifts-of-grief

Image Credits
Ashley Oliver