Soulful Chickpeas
60 Irresistible Recipes with a Side of Humor, History & Heart.
Multidisciplinary artist
Jaqulin Joseph works across painting, sculpture, mixed media, photography, and wearable art—building a visual language of memory, identity, spirit, and survival.
Enter the exhibition
01
“I create from the places where memory, culture, and imagination meet.”
Each work is allowed to hold its own atmosphere. The materials change, but the human presence remains—faces, bodies, symbols, histories, and the energy carried between them.
02
Selected works

Original mixed-media painting
A Statement on Voice, Color & Becoming
Suddenly Sassy is the moment a woman realizes she no longer has to make herself smaller.
The faces emerge from one another—sometimes bold, sometimes hidden, sometimes looking directly at you. They overlap because we are never only one woman. We are who we were, who we have survived being, who others thought we should be, and who we are still becoming.
Color became my language here.
The reds carry heat. The yellows refuse to whisper. The greens and blues move through the painting like another thought arriving before the first one has finished.
And then there are the eyes.
They look outward, inward, and across one another. They see. They question. They know.
There comes a point in a woman’s life when something changes. Maybe she has earned it. Maybe she has survived enough. Maybe she simply wakes up one morning and realizes that she likes the woman looking back at her.
She becomes a little louder.
A little freer.
A little less interested in permission.
And suddenly—sassy.

Painting
Two blue faces inhabit the space between expression and silence—the invisible conversation of intuition, memory and emotion.

Painting
There is beauty in the ordinary when we allow ourselves to truly see it. Familiar bottles, fruit, vessels and shapes gather until everyday things become something else. Form becomes rhythm. Color becomes movement. Objects that might normally sit quietly on a table begin to communicate with one another. I was interested not only in painting what was there, but in discovering what else I could see within it. A bottle can become architecture. Fruit becomes echoes of color and energy. The space between objects becomes just as important as the objects themselves. That is one of the freedoms abstraction gives me as an artist: I don’t have to reproduce the world exactly as it appears. I can take what is familiar, turn it slightly, and invite you to see it again.

Original mixed-media painting
A meditation on belonging without sameness. Each color keeps its own voice while contributing to a larger whole.

Original painting
A private landscape between memory and becoming, where love, loss, gratitude and former versions of ourselves remain in color.
03
Material, memory, form

Mixed-media assemblage
There are places built from lumber and brick, and there are places built from refusal. We Built Anyway gathers branches, bark, sticks, wire, and found materials into a city that looks weathered but unwilling to disappear. Against yellow—a field of warmth and possibility—the structures lean, reach, and hold one another. The work honors the determination to make shelter, community, and beauty from what remains. It is about survival without surrender: when the ground shifts, when the plan breaks, when the world says no, we build anyway.

Mixed-Media Assemblage
This work is about the body of a woman as a vessel of memory.
The red is blood—blood spilled, blood inherited, and blood that continues to give life. Its burned holes and jagged edges speak of wounds: violence, loss, sacrifice, and suffering women have carried for generations. Yet the cloth remains.
The dark form above becomes both body and barrier—armor built from what we survive. The strings are what still bind us: memory, ancestry, love, pain, and history.
But this work does not end with the wound. Red is also cleansing. It is fire. It is transformation. Within one woman’s body can live vulnerability and tremendous strength.
We carry their wounds. We carry their blood. We carry their strength. And still, we rise.

Mixed-media assemblage
Photographic film becomes memory: what we have seen, what has been done to us, what we have carried and what refuses to disappear.

Mixed-media relief painting
Created in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, this work reflects loss, upheaval and survival. Cloth, layered surfaces and material memory carry floodwater, debris, wounds and history. The water receded. The memory did not.

Mixed-media relief
A portrait engaging questions of African strength, sovereignty, independence, dignity and self-determination.

Mixed media
An unbroken gaze meets a dense accumulation of line, texture and material.

Mixed Media on Canvas · 11 × 14 in
They Could Not Take the Crown lives somewhere between royalty and ruin.
The figure emerges through scraped paint, broken surfaces, darkness and blue. Above the head is a form that may be a crown, a headdress, a burden—or the remains of something once magnificent. I do not need the viewer to know whether this person was born a ruler, made a servant, conquered, forgotten, or simply survived.
I want that uncertainty.
History has repeatedly changed the names given to people. King becomes captive. Free becomes enslaved. Human beings become property. Cultures are renamed, languages are taken, histories are rewritten, and identities are buried beneath someone else’s version of the truth.
But something remains.
The blue is that something. It is spirit. Memory. Bloodline. The part of the self that cannot be owned. The white running through the face may look like tears or scars, but the eyes are still open. The figure is still looking back.
Perhaps the crown is no longer made of gold. Perhaps survival itself has become the crown.
You may strip away the kingdom.
You may rewrite the history.
You may even call the ruler a slave.
But you cannot take the crown that lives within.
They could not take the crown.

Mixed-Media Abstract
Some things can be understood without ever being translated.
In this work, fragments of printed language live beneath layers of paint, texture, earth tones, ochres, and green. The words are present, but they are no longer completely available to us. Parts emerge. Parts disappear. Meaning becomes something we have to search for.
I am interested in that space between knowing and not knowing.
The buried pages carry evidence of another voice, another place, another moment. By covering and revealing them, I am not erasing their existence. I am allowing them to become part of a new visual language—one created through color, surface, memory, and time.
The deep green form divides the composition, yet it also connects it. On either side are fragments that appear different, but underneath they occupy the same surface.
Perhaps people are like that too.
We inherit languages, histories, cultures, stories, and memories we may never completely understand. Some are spoken clearly. Others survive only in fragments.
And still, something reaches us. We may not know every word. But we can recognize the presence of a story.

Mixed-media relief assemblage
What the Body Holds centers a weathered form that hovers between vessel, torso, shield and relic. Its surface carries abrasion, drips and the dull glow of rusted earth, while a single wire crosses the work like a boundary, tether or line of endurance. The object appears burdened but not emptied. It holds the evidence of what has passed through it. Here, darkness is not absence; it is the space that allows the form to gather strength. The work asks what the body carries, what it protects, and what remains when survival slowly becomes armor.

Mixed-media abstract
In The Shape of Crossing, a broad red arc presses against a luminous field of gold as a thinner red line cuts through the composition like direction, warning and passage. The central form glows, but its scraped and scarred surface refuses decoration. Black gathers at the edges, holding the work between shelter and threat, closure and movement. Red becomes force and boundary; gold becomes memory, possibility and the light toward which we move. The work lives in the unsettled moment before certainty—the instant when a path opens, not because fear has vanished, but because crossing has become necessary.
04
Sculpture

Bronze sculpture
A solitary female figure occupies her own space with vulnerability, independence and quiet resolve.

Bronze sculpture
An angular form turns balance, tension and open space into upward movement.


Bronze sculpture · two views
Intertwined female forms create an intimate structure of protection, tenderness, recognition and strength.
05
Selected photographs

Photography

Photography · layered image

Photography

Photography

Photography · collage
06
Fine Funky Art · sneak peek
Jaqulin’s hand-painted purses turn the everyday accessory into a one-of-a-kind artwork. Each piece is individually painted—no two are alike.
Collection coming soon

07
Writing & publications
60 Irresistible Recipes with a Side of Humor, History & Heart.
An imaginative coloring collection created for grown-up minds that still like to wander.
Practical reflection, resilience and encouragement for navigating single motherhood.
A Jaqulin Joseph publication retained as part of her complete body of writing.
A reflection on the unseen choices, thresholds and possibilities that shape a life.
Writing on fear, release, courage and the difficult grace of moving forward.

08
About the artist
Artist, author, photographer, and creative force.
Jaqulin Joseph’s practice moves freely between disciplines. Her work is expressive and materially curious, guided by a commitment to tell the truth of lived experience through color, form, gesture, and image.
Across canvas, bronze, photography, found materials, and wearable art, she creates work that asks to be felt before it is explained.
Studio inquiries · exhibitions · commissions