Jeanelle Myers of Sag Harbor finds inspiration in the forgotten: items that were once cherished, valuable, and useful but have since been left behind, given away, or discarded. They still deserve "a place of honor," she said. "They had significance."
Both natural and man-made, these things find that place of honor in Ms. Myers's works of assemblage and collage, reconstructed figures, tapestries, and quilts. She's been known to use cicada shells, tree roots, fallen leaves, and fragments of wigs alongside old lace, jewelry, clocks, tools, dried flowers and leaves, and toys.
"I value things that people made, especially when they had to study and practice and learn how to make something," she said.
Closer looks reveal layers of detail -- lines of handwriting, jewels tucked into corners, panels that lift to reveal other patterns and pops of color -- all organized for an aesthetic. The work evokes an old-world kind of feeling, but it's not intentional.
"I don't start out with a plan or a drawing -- I start out with something. A thing. And then I go hunting around the studio for other things to go with it," Ms. Myers said when asked about her process. "I make them intuitively. They are very personal. I don't make them with a viewer or selling them in mind. If I did, I certainly wouldn't make what I do. It's a very personal form of expression."
In a free-form, upstairs space where Ms. Myers maintains her home studio -- and which she shares with two cats, Mike and Steve -- the piercing, inquisitive faces of doll-like figures peer out from underneath protective plastic sheets that, once lifted, show their detail. Some of their torsos are treasure chests filled with the same kind of trinkets and ephemera that encompass Ms. Myers's assemblage pieces -- tiny jars filled with leaves or pebbles, a long, gold-painted metal coil, a row of sewing needles stuck forever in a parallel, upright formation. The word "creepy" applies, but not in a negative way -- they fascinate the viewer with a frozen-in-time kind of energy.
Ms. Myers is originally from Nebraska. She came to New York in 1970 after studying pottery, sculpture, and art history at the University of Nebraska, which is much more of an agricultural-industry training ground than it is a fine-arts school.
She had been interested in science and happened to sign up for an art class -- and stumbled upon something she was not only good at, but also passionate about. "From there I was off and running," she said.
Her present-day endeavors combine both. "I'm a plant nerd. Always have been. I thought I would be a potter and a farmer. I kind of did that -- I did art and became a gardener."
Thinking back on her days in Nebraska with a wistful look, Ms. Myers recalled a line from a Brooks and Dunn country music song, minus the honky-tonk. "You can take the girl out of the plains, but you can't take the plains out of the girl," she said.
In 1970s and '80s New York City, Ms. Myers managed a pub while working as a commercial potter. "I said to myself if you're going to make art you should be in New York, so I stayed and made pots for a long time. And I loved making pots! I'd do research on antique pots and dishes and cups -- all that stuff. I loved that stuff."
She had been using a gas-fired kiln, "and that was a very rare thing," she said, but when the rent got hiked by a factor of 10, that all changed. She moved, bought an electric kiln, and began doing earthenware -- but change had already been set in motion.
"It wasn't a conscious decision to stop making pottery," Ms. Myers said. "When we moved out here I brought my kiln, two wheels, and my glaze and chemicals, and they sat there. I didn't use them. I gave it all away."
Ms. Myers and her husband, Terry Sullivan, a writer and photographer whose current project is a film about Levittown, bought their Sag Harbor house in 1991 and moved in full time five years later. She started out working for Marders as a gardener.
After several years working there and for other gardening businesses, she struck out on her own. She was in her 60s at the time. "My clients talk about next year. 'What are we going to do next year?' I don't plan on retiring," she said.
One of her most profound influences is folk art -- "but real folk art, not the kind of folk art people make to sell," she said. "It's another instance where somebody made something because they had to. And that's why I make art. I'm compelled."
The Covid-19 pandemic cast a shadow over her artistic instincts that has been a bit difficult to shake, Ms. Myers acknowledged. Her most recent assemblage reflects those dark days -- and may wind up being a finale of sorts for that form. She's open to new art forms, but is intentionally not searching for one. She knows something will come her way that just feels right.
"I don't do anything on purpose with a conscious mind. I just kind of move into something," she said. "I don't know what's coming next."
But then there are the quilts, a comfortable and fulfilling art that Ms. Myers returns to even when she's shifted away from another medium. She said she often finds herself buying pieces that another quilter started but never finished. There's something satisfying about that, she said. "When I finish a quilt using their blocks, it makes me feel good. I finished their work, plus it became my work."
In Sag Harbor, where an entire community exists around a thriving arts scene, Ms. Myers said she feels "comfortable being who I am and making what I do here."
She doesn't show her work frequently, but for those who are curious for a peek, she now has several pieces on display at the Old Town Arts and Crafts Guild on Main Road in Cutchogue.
"It's a different kind of work. It's so personal . . . or maybe people relate to it better than I think they do," Ms. Myers said. "You can put your heart self in there and your head self in there, and it's allowed, because art is weird and artists are weird."
