When I was a small child I lived in an imaginary world; what I could not have or wish I had, I made or drew. I often played with papers dollies, crayons, and scissors and no one knew about me for hours. What was fascinating about this game was that I created entire designer collections and made clothes for all seasons and occasions for only a penny. After, I cut the outfits out and hung them on the dolly. So my dolly had it all: a winter fur hat, hundreds of shoes, jewelry, beautiful dresses, and a colourful coat pieced together from many tiny “cloths” as in the song from Dolly Parton, "The Coat of Many Colours". Later, I built a paper box house where I drew all furniture, pictures, carpet, flowers, pets, and I did not miss the car either. The nicest presents were always crayons, later pastels, and eventually oil colours. I drew and painted on everything possible; with soft pastels on side walks, on fabric, stones, Easter egg shells, branches, tiles, and on closet doors. That was a bit of a problem.
When my family moved from a large industrial city in the Czech Republic to the small town of Novy Bor, nestled between hills and forests, I felt like I was on holiday all year round. From the window I saw and drew horse-drawn carriages, in the forests I took plaster casts of animal footprints, and later I added to them drawings of the animals to which the prints belonged. My collection included rabbit, fox, deer, and wild boar. From my dad I received first landscape lessons; we spent time together in nature sitting in warm grass, listening to birds singing, daddy’s whistling, grasshoppers’ serenades, and painted. Nature was a never-ending story with thousands of inspirations; what I saw and felt I wished to memorize and paint.
Later, during my studies, I began drawing the human form. Daily I drew girls; I had many live models as there were 13 of us in one dorm room, every girl as pretty as the other. Often I also sat outside and drew the streets filled with old churches and houses. When I came to pick up my Masters work at the end of my studies, I found that it had been stolen from the Academy. My professor said: "Do not be sad, someone liked your pictures enough to risk stealing them”. It was very sad for me because my dad helped me with the idea. It was a painting of a canyon that at the time was in a land too far away to even dream of visiting. I covered parts with modeling paste and sand and painted them with oil colours of purples and yellows.
After my graduation I worked in daycare centers, creative art centers, and a boarding school. I always taught fine art and music, and was a workshop instructor of fine art techniques for other educators. At all times I tried to be a good teacher and kids were the best students. Children’s drawings are so beautiful: free with colour, seemingly irrational, happy or sad, and full of ideas. They don’t hold back.
Years go by and not every day is full of happiness. When I became divorced at 25 and alone with my beautiful two-year old daughter, I found peace and comfort in painting. I started to paint miniature trees: young, old, tall and regal, lonely and twisted, in morning fog, drenched in sunlight, and in all four seasons. I compared my life with theirs; through thunder, lightning, and big storms they stood proud, living to enjoy a new day with new blossoms, green leaves, stronger branches, warm sun, and flowers all around. Painting for me to this day is like singing a nice song. Pictures are melodic, lively yet soothing, and after finishing my work I feel happy as after singing and playing guitar.
Eventually I received permission from the Regional Arts Committee, a government controlled organization, to sell my paintings in upscale tourist boutiques. On Sundays I made trips with my daughter to these places to bring new art pieces and pick up money from the sale of the others. As a single mom this was always extra financial help. From bus stations we walked down woodland paths, listening to sounds of forest music and our own footsteps to reach beautiful places like one memorable ancient castle carved into sandstone. There the public was my jury. They ordered my paintings of trees in four seasons and I could not even finish these orders because I emigrated from the country.
My leaving was a secret because in 1988 the Czech Republic was under Communist power and leaving was illegal. I left with my daughter to the former Yugoslavia for a holiday and then walked over the border to Italy where a friend picked us up and brought us to Switzerland. There, waiting for permission to move to Canada, I painted again. Beautiful Swiss hills dotted with cows and their distinguishing bells as well as the bells in small churches echoing through the mountains were the new inspiration for my pictures.
Shortly upon arriving to Canada on the 24th of January 1989 I began selling my pictures at the St. Lawrence Market in downtown Toronto. One very cold Canadian winter day, when not many people came around, one man made my day warm. He bought a picture and said “it is beautiful”. Maybe he felt alone like the single tree painted on a round piece of wood and simply signed “Jana”. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures I signed “Jana” until years later when I met Helen Kluke, owner of Studio on the Hill. After working in daycares, Montessori schools, and public night art programs, I opened my creative J.L. Studio in Masaryktown Park in Scarborough. I came to Helen with my own and my children’s pottery pieces for firing. Helen pushed me to sign my art with a full name. And so I do.
In all of my art work, the love for my new home in Canada shows; loons of the North, blue jays, red cardinals, raccoons… endless inspirations that were not found in Europe.
I would like to say to those people who ever bought my pictures that I hope my art makes them as happy when they look at it as I felt when I painted it!