Slow Summer: Jereme MendezThe painter on capturing the essence of summer through light and color.
Jereme Mendez.
Jereme Mendez began painting as a form of emotional release, but over time, his practice evolved into an exploration of light, color and nature. Through the act of slowing down and creating, he discovered a sense of clarity and stillness that transformed his approach to art. Here, Mendez shares how the extended summer days, natural light and ever-changing Bay Area landscapes continue to shape his creative process and his desire to capture fleeting moments of beauty.
Angie Sijun Lou: What rituals ground you in the summer season?
Jereme Mendez: My wife, Shelby, and I recently moved to the Berkeley Hills. We go on morning walks with our coffees before the sunlight breaks through the marine layer. When we come back, we make breakfast and watch the fog roll out from the ocean.
I prefer to work in natural light, and the extended summer days have encouraged me to paint for longer. Our last house was a full-concept loft where you could see the kitchen, living room and bedroom from any vantage point. When we first moved into this new house, I felt a rush of joy at seeing the light subdivided by the rooms.
A late afternoon dinner co-hosted by CHANDON and Kinfolk at CHANDON Home in Napa.
ASL: Has this attunement to light inspired your work?
JM: Much of my artistic practice is indebted to noticing the gradient of light as it passes through a transparent medium. Color is what I feel most innately attracted to, and it is the first aspect I notice in any landscape.
I first started painting a few years ago because I thought I was losing my vision. Luckily, my eyes have healed after treatment, but what compelled me to paint was the desire to capture the world as I experienced it: as a plane of shadow and abstraction. Moving into this new house feels like the completion of my arc as a colorist.
ASL: What does it mean to be a colorist?
JM: I approach painting as a tango between colors. Before I start a large-scale painting, I look at the blank canvas and think to myself: Let’s dance. It’s less of a static relationship and more like a bidirectional transmission between me and the painting. I consider myself a facilitator, rather than an artist who restricts the realm of possibility by trying to induce a specific outcome. I have heard of artists creating pieces that they are not particularly fond of—if they don’t like it, then someone else will—whereas I need to have an emotional connection with every piece that leaves my studio. Sometimes the connection is mysterious and ineffable to me. I can’t say what it is besides that it makes my brain happy.
ASL: Is this intuition something you’ve experienced outside of painting?
JM: When I first met Shelby, before she even knew my name, I felt certain that she would someday become my wife. I look for an initial spark that reveals its infinitudes over time, whether that’s in love, art or friendship.
ASL: What is a drink or dish that says summer to you?
JM: I love sweet cherry tomatoes dressed in olive oil with burrata, and served with a spritz. It’s funny because I usually hate tomatoes when it’s not summertime. When I was a child—I must have been around 5 or 6—my dad told me he would give me $100 if I ate a tomato. Of course, I ate the tomato and never saw the $100.
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This story was created in partnership with CHANDON as part of Slow Summer—a new series celebrating the simple joy of hosting friends with CHANDON Spritz. Please enjoy responsibly.
