Exclusive interview with Jennifer Allnutt, 3rd Prize Winner, RAYMAR Painting Award in the 2025 Beautiful Bizarre Art Prize by Bella Harris
Plant a seed, nurture it and watch it grow. This is a fundamental concept that shapes our lives as we can all acknowledge the garden within each of us. There is a quiet, subterranean rhythm in the work of Jennifer Allnutt that mirrors the pulse of our own existence. As the 3rd Prize Winner of the RAYMAR Painting Award in the 2025 Beautiful Bizarre Art Prize, Jennifer does not simply paint; she documents the delicate architecture of a soul in bloom.
Her canvas is the fertile ground where the seeds of the subconscious take root, stretching upward until the boundary between ideation and the soil of imagination dissolves. It’s a striking visual meditation on the fact that we are never finished—we are in a constant state of flourish. In this conversation, we explore the transformative cycles that define Jennifer Allnutt’s technical mastery and her connection to the natural world.
We peel back the many layers of the creative process to look at the elements underneath, and then move into the quiet, often fierce resolve required to stay rooted while the world demands we move too fast. Jennifer invites us into her internal space – where emotionality isn’t just a feeling, but a material used to build something lasting. It is an exploration of the ‘why’ behind the ‘what’ uncovering the sacred momentum that drives an artist to keep planting even when the seasons feel uncertain.
Delve deep beneath the surface of Jennifer Allnutt’s award-winning aesthetic to find the heartbeat of her work. What you discover is a soul-tending truth that defines her artistic journey. You’ll see that intentionality becomes the compass for her creative evolution, while a beautiful, heavy sentiment fuels every brushstroke.
Exclusive interview with Jennifer Allnutt
When I look at your work, I almost feel a sense of preservation, protection, melancholy, and acceptance. Your figures are complex, embracing their sensibilities – vulnerable and often encased in a comforting natural beauty. How does the act of painting help you navigate that creative, psychological space between what your subjects feel and you’re your own self-possession?
The subjects are like a psychological conduit; they exist in a dream realm or from my unconscious mind. Then I try to turn these dreams into a material tangible form. The act of painting becomes a kind of introspective examination of sadness, anxiety, peace or comfort. Whatever is going on at the time. Transmuting the half-realised idea or emotion from my head, through my heart and to my hand is a kind of alchemy that is endlessly fascinating and challenging.
Similarly to other artists I suppose the paintings are like a diary entry. For example, from a young age I have been told I was often daydreaming or getting lost in my thoughts. I now know that what I am doing is a sort of disassociating and this is something I try to capture in my works. The figures covered in flowers echo that feeling for me of losing the sense of being in your body, of time and space dissolving.
The density of your paint creates a visual history. All the gentle hues breathe life and make it impossible to forget. If a viewer could read the emotional residue of those layers, what unspoken narrative would be discovered about your process or the subject?
There is a special relationship hidden in there because I build the works up with many layers of scumbling and glazes over weeks and months. The artwork has changed and evolved as I have changed. I’ve sat with the painting in the quiet hours of the morning, afternoon and night; it has seen me overwhelmed and frazzled to joyous and content. Many different moods and moments have contributed to the work and the painting is something that has grown alongside me.
I believe this sort of painting, which is laborious and lengthy, contains a myriad of the artist’s personality compared to say an alla prima, impressionist painting that is like a snapshot of the artist and their impression. Both are valid and insightful; however, it is the indirect painting method that experiences the changing faces of the artist.
“The subjects are like a psychological conduit; they exist in a dream realm or from my unconscious mind. Then I try to turn these dreams into a material tangible form. The act of painting becomes a kind of introspective examination of sadness, anxiety, peace or comfort.”
Medium & Dimensions:
Oil on aluminium, 58 x 39 cm
You mention being “fascinated by those in-between grey areas… intangibles and ambiguities and then fusing these into the physicality and language of paint” Without divulging your deepest intentionality, what does this statement mean to you and the way your art is consumed and processed?
As Baudelaire said, ‘the beautiful is always bizarre’ and I find there is such truth to be found in the juxtaposition of opposing ideals or elements. For example, some of the most well-known love stories, like Romeo and Juliet, are tragedies’ which you might assume would be the antithesis of romance i.e. ‘Happily, ever after’. Yet that work is so synonymous with archetypes of love, and I would argue this is because rather than the tragedy diminishing the story it conversely elevates it to a new transcendent level. The tragedy amplifies the love and thus the bizarre expands the beauty.
To explore this further I am very influenced by the theory suggested by the poet John Keats called negative capability. This refers to an artist’s ability to exist in uncertainty, mysteries and ambiguities without the need for irksome reason. Being in this realm of vagueness in turn leads to greater visionary truths being revealed.
I suppose I am asking the viewer to hold this tension and uncertainty created in the paintings, notice its odd fusion and embody a dual emotional stance. I hope that perhaps there is a secret or truth which may be revealed to them during their contemplation.
The botanical elements in your work are never just decorative; they live as part of the narrative often bruised, visceral, and strangely internal. What is the symbolic function of these organic forms—are they a site of growth, decay, or a commentary on the body’s fragile internal state? Maybe even a combination of these emotions?
I like to combine symbols like growth and decay to heighten the charge of emotion held between them. Expressing the anxiety and tragic beauty of the passage of time is very important to me. Everything is constantly changing, and it is scary and thrilling and beautifully overwhelming. I believe the special thing about symbolism is there are multiple levels: there are universal tactile qualities that suggest meaning, cultural associations and personal symbolism. My chosen and recurrent subject of flowers have all these qualities that cross borders, languages and time. That is perhaps why I am obsessed with painting them.
For example, this year I painted some hands cradling a poppy which was growing from the wrist. The poppy, among its many associations, is indicated to be a symbol of remembrance. Unfortunately, there was time in the past when I was self-harming, so I painted the poppy growing and blooming from the wrist, like a beautiful scar. The idea is that scars from the past should be remembered and learned from, but it is also about protecting and nurturing yourself too. It is a reminder that no feeling is final.
Traditional still life elevates inanimate objects, but your figures are often embedded with “living” elements. Do you consider your works to be a form of embodied still life, capturing a moment of intense, fragile existence?
I like for the works to feel like they are living and alive, yet time is eerily suspended. I always want the works to be luminous and embody a living presence that is outside of me like a kind of animism. I am also very focused on capturing the physicality and sensualness of my subjects. A tulip bending gracefully under the weight of its bloom or butterflies and bugs crawling in the dark spaces. Sometimes I try to build the impasto of the oil paint to mimic the ridges on a petal in a similar way to the Dutch masters.
In many ways because I work intuitively during the process, with a penchant for drastic changes, I feel like the subjects are a force who realise their intentions through my art.
However, I know that there is a genuine connection there between the mind and the body and my myriads of emotional states influence the outcome of a painting.
“I like to combine symbols like growth and decay to heighten the charge of emotion held between them. Expressing the anxiety and tragic beauty of the passage of time is very important to me. Everything is constantly changing, and it is scary and thrilling and beautifully overwhelming.”
When you walk into your studio each day, how does the physical environment—the light, the smells of the materials, the arrangement of your tools, décor, sounds—immediately impact your mental state and dictate the very first, often unconscious, action you take with the paint?
I like to treat my studio as a sacred space and somewhere I must spend time each day to feel normal. I have adorned it with beautiful and meaningful objects that resonate with me. I think this influences the work and myself unconsciously. I’m an avid collector of books. I have many classics, collections of poetry, gothic literature and many, many arts related books. My studio also doubles as the library that I share with my partner and artist Scott Breton. I’ve started collecting insects and butterflies and have a decent collection of oddities and artwork from friends and artists.
At first, I sometimes feel resistance to starting but I find if I go into my studio and interact with the objects, books or just look at my paintings, I’ll know how to begin, and it’ll flow quite naturally and unconsciously. I’m very grateful to have a dedicated room as an art studio that I can alter to make my own.
Let’s delve into your Beautiful Bizarre Art Prize-winning piece, “Disintegration.” What is one key element or narrative detail about this particular painting that is completely unexpected to the viewer, but which now resonates deeper with you personally?
The unexpected part in that painting I think is the horse’s eye. It is the only part of the horse that is showing, and the rest is entirely made of flowers and bugs. The horse who modelled for pictures and sketches was my partners mum’s horse called Costa. He is a gorgeous chestnut with the most beautiful eyes. Interacting with horses up close is quite an experience and I found myself profoundly inspired looking into their eyes. There is depth, personality and sensitivity in this part of a horse and so I had to include the eye as a point of connection amidst chaos and perhaps disconnection.
The process of creating that work was a bit of a struggle too. I did studies and sketches of horses to get a feel for their muscles and structure. Then I constructed an armature out of wire, based on my composition mock-ups. Then it was a matter of assembling a collection of living flowers around the armature, work out the lighting and photograph a reference image. I wanted the flowers to be chaotic with subtle references to the form of the horse’s head. I really enjoyed the sculptural, floristry element part of the process- it was another way to use my hands and think in three dimensions.
Why did you enter the Beautiful Bizarre Magazine Art Prize?
Many years ago, a friend advised me to follow Beautiful Bizarre online and it was a revelation! It exposed me to a world of art I had never seen before. I remember the moment that one of my paintings was shared on Beautiful Bizarre socials for submission Sunday! It was an amazing moment for me, I remember falling to my knees in excitement! I really believe in supporting an alternative publication like Beautiful Bizarre because they champion artists who are different! I’ve entered for several years because I want to support this magazine and their community but also to get my work in front of people in our industry.
What do you feel you have gained from this experience?
It’s an achievement that ten years ago would’ve been only a dream! It’s given me a new level of self confidence in my work. I would’ve kept painting anyway but an acknowledgement like this, from my peers and judges, certainly inspires me to paint even harder and aim for the astonishing. To ultimately dream bigger.
Would you recommend it and encourage others to enter? If so, why?
I think it’s a fantastic prize to enter as in the lead up your artwork has the chance to be shared in their email newsletters and articles on their website which has a huge audience of artists, gallerists and collectors. Furthermore, having a deadline to finish artwork to enter is a great way to give yourself limitations to accelerate your creativity. If you struggle with finishing an artwork, this prize can be a catalyst to get it done.