Los Angeles Artist Shares How She’s Rebuilding After Devastating January Fires [Interview]

Los Angeles Artist Shares How She’s Rebuilding After Devastating January Fires [Interview]

Creativity is not a linear process. As we move through life and have new experiences, our inspirations change. Our desire to make art waxes and wanes. Creativity is both an exciting and a daunting prospect, and it takes consistent work to distill the fabric of our being into a body of art. Los Angeles-based artist Olivia Jane practices this; as a creative in flux, she uses her extensive travels and life experiences as powerful opportunities to inform her paintings and writing.

When it comes to art, Olivia Jane was a self-proclaimed “slow bloomer.” She admits that while she likely didn't show great artistic promise, she was dedicated to her craft, choosing to pursue it in college and earning her bachelor’s degree in art. After college, she took some time off to travel abroad. Venturing to the global South was a burst of inspiration, and she felt compelled to paint upon her return.

“I see my work as a crossroads between something incredibly ancient and the pulse of today,” she tells My Modern Met. “It’s not just about pretty images—it’s a conversation with the past, a dialogue with that raw, primal energy our ancestors tapped into, and merging this with some of the refinement of the great master figurative painters.”

In one striking piece, a woman wears an animal skull on her head. Her face is obscured, and the skull wears a veil. The figure is painted realistically, but the stylized backdrop—a halo behind her with lines radiating from it—evokes religious paintings of many centuries ago.

Olivia Jane feels grateful to have paintings to share today. On January 8, her studio burned down in the devastating Eaton Fire in Altadena, California. Thankfully, her paintings were spared as she had stored them in her home, and she was able to retrieve them the following day. They survived despite other great losses suffered by her and other people in the Altadena community and the greater Los Angeles area.

We had the opportunity to chat with Olivia Jane about how traveling is a constant teacher and how she’s rebuilding after the fires. Scroll down for My Modern Met’s exclusive interview.

How did you come to making art?

I wasn’t particularly gifted as a child—plenty of other kids outshined me in every possible way. I was truly a slow bloomer. My college professor tried to dissuade me from pursuing art, even though I can admit that I didn’t show great promise, but I was dedicated. I loved spending long nights in the college art studios by myself. I eventually earned a bachelor’s degree in fine art from a liberal arts college, but I had no idea if or how an art career was even possible. I totally gave up on art for a few years after college because I needed to figure out not only how to survive on my own but also how to fund the traveling abroad that I craved. After a nine-month expedition through the South Pacific and Southeast Asia, I was too inspired not to get back into painting. I started learning from my first mentor, Jack Shure—a remarkably dedicated painter based in Boulder, Colorado. This was a big turning point for me, and that was a decade ago now. While at times it feels like I’ve been in a long relationship with art, I know that in the big picture, it’s still very much the beginning of my creative life. And that excites me, because it means my art practice has plenty of room to grow, evolve, and change as I do. I expect my work will continue to shift as I listen for what the world needs from me.

How would you describe your work to someone who had never seen it before? What piece (or pieces) feel quintessentially you?

I see my work as a crossroads between something incredibly ancient and the pulse of today. It’s not just about pretty images—it’s a conversation with the past, a dialogue with that raw, primal energy our ancestors tapped into, and merging this with some of the refinement of the great master figurative painters. I often depict figures that are inextricably linked to their environment, like a woman emerging from a coral reef, but she is clearly a part of the ecosystem. Touching on our dire need to rethink and reshape our relationship with the natural world through these extractive and violent times. Our relationship to femininity is mirrored in the way that we treat our planet.

I’ve always been mesmerized by cave paintings. I love thinking about the earliest humans feeling compelled to create art. As soon as they had their basic needs met, they painted their stories on stone, some hidden very deep within cave systems. Many of these murals include depictions of hybrid creatures: part human, part conglomerate of other animals. Perhaps as an ode to transformation, perhaps attempting to depict “God.” We will never know for sure, but I do believe these themes are deeply embedded in our collective memory. Nudity, death, and rebirth are commonalities in my work—the kinds of topics that still unsettle our Western comfort zones. But rather than shock for shock’s sake, my hybrid figures—part human, part animal—are a tribute to a time when art was a ritual, a way to honor the ever-changing nature of life. In a world that often feels disconnected, I hope these images remind us of that deep, animistic bond we share with our ancient past and that this timeless wisdom is something we desperately need today.

Travel is a big part of who you are. How has it informed your artwork and creative process?

Travel has been a constant teacher in my life. Growing up as a global nomad meant constantly adapting, absorbing, and learning from every new environment. Each place I’ve been has left its mark on my work—whether it’s the vibrant textures of a bustling city or the quiet, introspective landscapes of remote regions, or learning from tribal elders in the Amazon. Travel has sharpened my observational skills and deepened my understanding of transformation, both cultural and personal. That exploration of change—of fleeting moments of beauty and loss—runs through everything I create. Having my worldview challenged over and over again, being exposed to so many different ways of perceiving truth, forced me into my own deep exploration of what I believe and what I choose to give my energy to. From 2017 until the end of 2019, I was backpacking around the world painting murals. I really hope to revisit some of those murals someday—they’re in desperate need of some touching up—but it’s wild to think that my work exists in all these different places, still interacting with people years later. So in that way, my work has both been shaped by travel and has come as a direct result of it.

Your studio and home were devastated by the Eaton fire in Los Angeles earlier this year. Can you talk about what it's been like to start over? 

On January 8, my studio burned down in the Eaton Fire in Altadena. Miraculously, my home was spared, though it was completely filled with toxic ash—everything inside had to be thrown out. It was one of the only houses left standing on a block that was once a gorgeous, lively neighborhood. The personal loss has been profound, but what’s been even harder is the loss of community. An entire town, generations of memories wiped out overnight. I was still new to Altadena, having only moved in September 2024, but it already felt like home.

How have you leaned on your community during this time?

I really hope that in the wake of these fires, Los Angeles and the international community don’t forget about Altadena—a working-class, historically Black neighborhood where artists have long found refuge and built something beautiful together. It just breaks my heart what we have been through, it’s still too painful to look back. Though it’s been beautiful to watch the community come together, it’s so important to also remember that many of these generational Altadena families need our help and support for years to come. The devastation to generational wealth as well as the artists who lost years of their work stings deep.

And how are you doing now?

I’ve since moved into a new place, still in Los Angeles, and I’m slowly beginning to piece my life back together. But losing all the materials I’ve collected over the last 16 years has definitely forced me to pause and reassess. I was incredibly lucky that my paintings were stored in my home at the time of the fire. On January 9, I hiked back through my burning neighborhood wearing a respirator to save my paintings, not knowing if anything would be left. My dear friend Nina came with me, we parked at the National Guard barricade, and for what felt like an eternity, we walked through an unrecognizable dystopia of charred fireplaces, still spewing flames. After about a mile, the first house standing we passed was my own tiny little wooden rental. It didn’t make any sense, it was a miracle. I was able to recover nearly my entire collection of original oil paintings. That’s something I hold onto, though there have been so many challenges in the wake of this fire. It’s been a process of starting over, of figuring out what this all means for my work and my life moving forward. But I’m still here, and as time goes on, it brings new opportunities to rebuild, reimagine, and rediscover what comes next.

You wrote that losing your studio to the fire “happened in the midst of a major personal transformation.” What inspired this shift? What does this mean for your creative practice moving forward?

Even before the fire, I could feel myself going through a creative shift. I moved to Los Angeles last summer, before that I spent nearly three years living on the edge of a ghost town in New Mexico—a place with a population of only 200 people. It’s a quirky town, and my time there was steeped in disciplined dedication to my work. There weren’t many distractions, which allowed me to pour myself completely into painting and teaching. Though the great wheels of change keep blowing, and eventually I realized I couldn’t keep hiding out in a ghost town waiting for life to happen. I needed to get back out into the world. I needed to share my collection of 35+ large oil paintings created in the high desert with a larger audience. And then I landed in East LA with nothing but my dog, a van, a suitcase and rolls of canvas. I’ve since shown my work at Raven’s Gallery and Echo Park Art, and will be co-curating a big show at Lucky Cat Labs in DTLA this summer.

Since 2022, I’ve been working on a memoir about the years I spent backpacking, hitchhiking, and painting around the world. Writing has taken on a bigger role in my creative life, and I’m realizing that storytelling—whether through painting, murals, or words—is at the core of what I do. I’m also deeply passionate about murals, interior design, street art, activism, and community organizing. Living remotely made it hard to feed all of these interests, but coming back to city life has reignited an old fire. Los Angeles, with all its energy and contradictions, has pushed me to think about my work differently. I feel a strong pull toward being part of meaningful change, toward the rebirth and restructuring of systems that don’t serve us. Maybe the best way to do that is through art, or maybe there are other avenues that will prove just as powerful. Either way, I’m feeling open—open to new forms, new collaborations, and new ways of creating. These are exciting and sometimes terrifying times to be alive, but also such an important moment for visionaries and dreamers, for those of us who can paint, write, or imagine a more beautiful future into existence.

Is there anything you'd like to share that we haven't covered here?

I just want to give a huge shout-out to everyone who has been supportive during this devastating time, especially those who contributed to my GoFundMe. A special thank you to Andrea Guzzetta, who generously organized a raffle on my behalf. It’s been deeply moving to witness how my art community has rallied around me, even though many of us only know each other through the internet. I can’t emphasize enough how important it is to have this kind of support. It’s been a reminder that connection is powerful, and community can show up in the most unexpected ways. Thank you to everyone who’s been there. Your support means everything.

My Modern Met also spoke with Olivia Jane at The Other Art Fair Los Angeles 2025. See her talk about why it's important to share your work with the world:

 

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My Modern Met granted permission to feature photos by Olivia Jane.

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READ: Los Angeles Artist Shares How She’s Rebuilding After Devastating January Fires [Interview]