CoffeeColor
It was on a flight from Denver to L.A. that I realized, horrified, I had forgotten to bring any color markers or watercolors for a sketch I was working on! As the dismay set in, I reached for the small cup of coffee I had ordered hours ago and forgot about. Then an idea struck me!
Of course, I have since learned that I am by no means the first person to paint with coffee, but I am the first Jon Bonjour to paint with coffee, and pairing the warm sepia pigment with my comic art style made something dynamic and exciting that I have fallen in love with over the years.
Since then, I have made it a personal passion project, painting strange monsters, skulls, and wonderful worlds with the caffeinated concoction that crafts a cacophony of curious creations.
I may have gotten lost in that one...
Anyway, little did I know that the puzzle piece missing from this art form was an understanding of craft coffee. Then came the last job I had before jumping into art full time! I had the honor of working at a local craft coffee shop, and seeing firsthand how much work and care goes into that cup of joe we all take for granted. It's an art and a science, and I find that WILDLY inspiring!
I want my paintings to reflect both the intentional balanced flavor notes of local craft coffee, and the manic energy each cup creates in all of us!
"Salve Regina"
A deep one.
"Trick or Teeth"
A silly one.
"Desert Dreams"
This piece was an interesting accident that has become perhaps my favorite single image I've ever created! In its original design, I just liked the idea of a cowboy skull leaning on a cactus. But then I couldn't quite figure out what to do with the empty space behind it, which led to some experimentation with shadow, which of course led to what you see now!
Perhaps the greatest thing about art is how much it feels like I am but a conduit for its desired existence.
"Forgotten Afternoons"
You may have noticed by this point that I have a certain affinity for skulls. I cannot explain it in its entirety, there remains a certain uncertainty even in my own mind about it. What I know is that I am drawn to them for their representation of mortality, as well as their uniting nature. Strip away all that we are on the surface and you are left with two things we have in common: We all have a skull. We will all die.
Now, why I find those two facts comforting?
I don't know. Ask my therapist.
"Spaced Out"
This is a recreation of an old sketch I did that ended up being art for a badge at a local comic con (fun fact for the eventual Oscar winning doc on my work). I really love the idea that even aliens on other planets are as bored and numb as we are. Again, ask my therapist.