Jonathan Cook

I was raised in the countryside of southern Indiana. I'm a painter and author of two novels. I studied a plethora of subjects at Indiana University and other colleges, including English literature, creative writing, evolutionary diversity, Native American folklore, New Testament literature, astronomy, calculus and geometry, chemistry, anthropology, ancient civilizations, and prehistoric life.

After my junior year at IU, I took hiatus from college, got a job and learned the pragmatic trades of carpentry, household plumbing, and electrical wiring. Time and again this two-year venture has proved invaluable.

Later, I returned to college with technology on my mind and earned a degree in computer information systems. After graduating, I entered the business world and consulted during the next seventeen years for medium and large size businesses in finance, high-tech, defense, and education at several locations across the United States. Not too long ago, I settled down again in Bloomington and I currently work for Indiana University.

While living in Arizona, after a decade as a technology professional, I picked up the brush and also the pen responding to a desire for more creative outlet in my life.

I had dabbled with oil painting in college and written creatively for over twenty years, but only in the past decade have I dedicated significant time to perfecting the two crafts. I paint landscapes, seascapes, cityscapes, still life, and other subjects. I work in oil color, which I mix from primaries and apply to stretched canvas, artboard, or fine art paper. Usually it's something compelling about a subject that draws me. I make it the focal point of a painting and then work primarily toward a realist image, though I view qualities of abstract design, tonal balance, color harmony, and a pleasing arrangement of underlying patterns as the foundation of a successful painting. I strive for what Joseph Campbell described as that radiance of a fortunately composed work of art. Honestly, it doesn't always work out that way. If it doesn't, then I consign it as good practice and move on. That elusive quality is what makes a gallery-ready work of art so special.