Information — Jeff Hurlow

Jeff Hurlow

hurlow@gmail.com

Jeff Hurlow is an artist, designer, tinkerer, husband, father, son, friend, enemy, fair-to-middling guitar player, walker of dogs, traveler, homebody, minimalist, hoarder, and many other contradictory traits.

Education

University of California
at Santa Barbara
Bachelor of Arts, Art Studio
1992

Art Studio Honoros Program
Wendy Anne Finkel Memorial Scholarship

During my time at UCSB as an art major, I was heavily influenced by my professors. Specifically, Ann Hamilton’s large-scale installation and performance pieces shifted what I even considered to be art. I was also fortunate to be at school with my good friend, Art Domantay. His work exceeded what I thought someone could do while in school. But at the same time, after graduating, I had no idea how I would be able to make a living from doing work of this scale. By accident and out of necessity, I discovered graphic design, and this ended up being where I spent the bulk of the last 30 years of my career.

Over the years, I would occasionally dabble in some work. There was a time when I got really into drawing and had a few shows when the kids were little. I was fortunate that they were shown in LA, NY, and Chicago, but they still seemed like something you would do as a hobby. About two years ago, I decided I wanted to learn how to oil paint and found the art school, Mission Renaissance. The one I went to was in a strip mall in Arcadia, and my fellow students were generally high school kids and the occasional adult. There would’ve been a time when I thought that was ridiculous, but their program is similar to an atelier, where you have to start from the ground up. See first. Draw. Paint. I think that discipline brought me back to the right frame of mind to create work.

Two events led to this new series of work. In March of 2026, my dad passed away. A few weeks later, I bought an old drive-in speaker. I’m not sure why, but I was drawn to this object, and I began tinkering with it as a way to peek into the past. Not knowing anything about electronics, I relied heavily on Claude to help me understand what I was doing and how to manipulate it. A lot of alone time in the studio created time to reflect on my dad and his memory. Eventually, these two things merged, and a series began.

This body of work inadvertently became a way to process my dad's death. Not in the way people expect it to look. More like the way your mind keeps returning to things. The conversations that happened... The ones that didn't... The ones you didn't even know you needed to have until it was too late.

There's a preciousness to the mundane that you never feel in the moment. A Sunday phone call. A shared meal. A movie at the drive-in. You don't know you're making a memory while you're in it.

His death has also made me think about my own... and about the people I love who are still here. What I'm saying to them. What I'm not saying. Whether I'll regret it.

These pieces are my attempt to sit with those questions.

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