Jeff Terasek

I draw with oil pastels and Sharpies, but really, I’m painting with mood, movement, and a little bit of magic. I love the mess of it—the way color smears and sings, the way a marker can be as bold as a trumpet or as quiet as a hum. My hand moves like it's dancing, guided more by feeling than thought, chasing gestures as if they’re fireflies.

My work lives in the in-between: between solitude and connection, chaos and calm, the natural and the abstract. I use expressive color and a geometric framework to explore ideas of isolation, hope, and beauty—the strange, tangled kind of beauty that grows wild in the corners. I want each piece to feel like its own little world, vibrating with a kind of inner music, a secret rhythm that doesn’t need to be decoded—just felt.

Music is a big part of how I work. I let songs bend the mood of the page. Sometimes it’s a soft, dusky chord that opens the door to a forest of spirals. Other times, it’s a beat that cracks open a sunburst. I follow where the sound takes me, hand first, mind second. It is all connected, anyway. 

At the heart of my work is a belief that perception is alchemy. The way you see the world is your world. Reality is not fixed; it’s interpreted. If your life doesn’t look how you want it to, maybe you’re holding the wrong brush—or maybe you haven’t dipped into your brightest color yet. My art is a whisper, or maybe a laugh, telling you: you’re the artist of your own reality.

Each piece I make is a mirror and a window at once. I don’t offer answers. I offer spaces—wild, colorful spaces where emotion and intuition are free to play. Come look. Come feel. Come dream with your eyes open.