Claire Jefferson aka Stella Wulf
Artist’s Profile
Claire Jefferson moved to France from North Wales in 2000. After several years of intense house restoration which she undertook with her husband, she was finally able to turn her attention back to painting.
A qualified Interior Designer, Claire has also studied Illustration and Fashion & Textiles (winning the Fashion Prize for best student in year). Her work as an Interior Designer has been featured in several magazine publications including 25 Beautiful Homes and 25 Beautiful Kitchens. Her paintings have sold across Europe.
Claire is also a writer and poet. She is the author of the children’s books The Song of the Froom (4Word Press), And the Sea Whispered (Runcible Spoon Press), and two pamphlet collections, After Eden (4Word Press) and A Spell In The Woods (Fair Acre Press).
Claire writes under the pseudonym Stella Wulf
Artist’s Statement
I am very fortunate to live in South West France where the stunningly beautiful countryside offers an endless source of inspiration for my work. The spectacular majesty of the mountains, the ever changing agriculture and the luminosity of the landscape never fail to captivate. Through the use of colour and composition I seek to evoke the beauty and diversity of this amazing backdrop
Where painting is the poetry of sight, poetry is the painting of insight. An image is an evocation; whether elicited through words or colour, it requires structure, composition, meaning and passion. I strive through my paintings and my poetry to encapsulate those insights, emotions and experiences; ultimately – to unite and connect in the name of art.
Does what goes on inside show on the outside? Someone has a great fire in his soul and nobody ever comes to warm themselves at it, and passers-by see nothing but a little smoke at the top of the chimney.’ Vincent Van Gogh
The Starry Night Tree Speaks to Vincent
The little lives of little men hunker
in the blinkered shadows of the valley.
They look no higher than the spire
that funnels their notions of mastery
into the church and the worship of habit.
No one comes to warm themselves at your fire
yet you throw yourself open, invite them in,
offer up your fiercely burning universe,
a restless ferment, a cosmic gyre,
spinning in the corona of a meniscus moon.
You render me as a dark church, pointing
a godlike finger at the blazing stars.
Men can’t see through their monochrome lives
to the spectrum of your elemental flame.
You’re outside the field of their vision,
consumed by a spiralling dark.
Stella Wulf