Featured artist: Christina Kent
Running a Quick Errand in the Mission, 10x10, oil on Ampersand Gessobord
Once a PhD economist, Christina Kent is now a full-time figurative oil painter, inspired by the understanding that art captures the richness of human experience in ways that numbers cannot.
Grabbing Pizza in the Mission, 10x10, oil on Ampersand Gessobord
As a former PhD economist from Stanford, your transition from academia to full-time art is genuinely intriguing. What led you to make the leap into a full-time artistic career?
I’ve always wanted to be an artist—it’s been a constant passion of mine. I’ve been drawing for as long as I can remember and painting since high school, but I didn’t see it as a viable career path at the time. So, I pursued what felt like a stable and “serious” career in economics. Fast forward to finishing my PhD at Stanford, and I realized I needed more space in my life for beauty, intuition, and emotion. Economics helped me understand the world through data, but it was missing the depth of direct experience and creative expression that I craved.
During the pandemic, I had a moment to pause and reflect. I felt this undeniable urge to communicate through painting again after years of stepping away from it. As I started painting seriously in 2020, it completely changed how I saw the world. I found myself being more present with reality than I ever had before—observing light, color, and the beauty in everyday moments. I realized art has a transformative power. It shifted my perspective and deepened my connection with my surroundings. Through painting, I could not only experience this transformation myself but also share it with others.
That realization gave me the confidence to pursue it as a career. Over time, I built up my savings, grew my art business, and slowly transitioned to painting full-time. By the start of 2024, I finally made the leap, and it feels like I’m truly aligned with what has been my calling all along.
Afternoon Downtown, 12x12, oil on Ampersand Gessobord
You mentioned facing rejection and criticism of your work early in your career. How did this shape your motivation and the way you approach your art today?
I’ve experienced rejection at many stages of my art career. When I was a teenager, participating in art competitions, I was such a perfectionist that if I didn’t place first, I took it as a personal failure. I felt like I needed external validation to prove myself. But when I came back to art after stepping away for my economics career, I had a much more mature perspective. I no longer felt the need to prove myself to anyone. I still want to create art that resonates with people, but now it’s about staying true to my vision and finding the audience who connects with that rather than chasing approval.
I’ve also come to see rejection as an inevitable and healthy part of the process. Reading biographies of artists like Georgia O’Keeffe helped me realize that rejection is something every artist faces. It’s a badge of honor that shows you’re putting yourself out there and pushing for growth. If you’re never rejected, you might not be reaching high enough. So now, I see rejection as a chance to practice resilience and courage.
Stephen King famously nailed all his rejection letters to his studio wall, and I’ve adopted a similar practice. Every rejection I receive goes up on my wall, reminding me how much I’m putting myself out there and really trying. I can’t control whether I get accepted or rejected, but I can control how often I show up and put myself on the line—and that’s something to be proud of.
Grove St. at Dusk, 10x10, oil on Ampersand Gessobord
How has your creative inspiration shifted from your time in Texas to now being based in San Francisco? Are there specific aspects of each location that impact your work uniquely?
It’s interesting because I wasn’t pursuing art professionally when I was in Texas. I was much younger and treated it more as a hobby. Growing up in Houston and later attending undergrad there, I didn’t have the same connection to the landscape I’ve developed since moving to the Bay Area about ten years ago. The landscape in Texas, particularly around Houston, is very flat, and the weather often kept me indoors. So, during that time, I was much more focused on portraiture and figurative work rather than landscape painting, which wasn’t a big part of my surroundings or inspiration.
Moving to the Bay Area completely changed that. The landscape here is so dynamic, with hills, mountains, and incredible vistas. San Francisco, in particular, is such a visually fascinating city—its many hills offer breathtaking views around every corner, and the way the light interacts with the city and the natural environment is captivating. I think it’s not surprising that I became more drawn to landscape painting after moving here. The sheer beauty of the environment, combined with the outdoor lifestyle I’ve embraced since moving, has been a huge inspiration for my work. I love hiking and being outdoors, which has deeply influenced how I approach my art now.
August in Las Trampas, 12x12, oil on Ampersand Gessobord
How does the alla prima technique help you capture the transient quality of changing light, and what challenges does it present?
I started out doing photorealistic painting back in high school, which involved a lot of tedious glazing and layering. My goal back then was to hide brushstrokes and create smooth, precise results. But over time, I shifted towards alla prima, which has a completely different energy. The alla prima technique is all about painting in a single session, allowing me to embrace more expressive mark-making, and the visible brushstrokes give the painting a dynamic, lively quality.
This technique is perfect for capturing the transient nature of changing light, especially when I’m painting plein air. Since the light is constantly shifting while I’m painting, the piece becomes more of a reflection of that dynamic moment rather than a static snapshot. The pace of alla prima allows me to keep up with that changing light and imbue my work with a sense of movement and immediacy.
For me, one of the biggest challenges with this technique is how to further explore expressive mark-making and texture while still maintaining an accurate representation of the light in the environment. Lately, I’ve been experimenting with a palette knife in addition to my brushwork to create more spontaneous, textured marks. I want to push the boundaries of this expressive side of my painting while still staying true to the atmosphere and light I’m trying to capture.
Night in the City #5, 10x10, oil on Ampersand Gessobord
After completing your graduate program, you hiked the Camino Primitivo in Spain. How did this influence your artistic perspective, and what was it like capturing the landscapes and experiences of this through your paintings?
After finishing my PhD, I hiked the Camino Primitivo, a two-week-long pilgrimage that connects small towns and farms in Spain, eventually ending at Santiago de Compostela. My love for hiking and being out in nature drew me to the Camino. I enjoy the slow pace of walking, which allows me to truly experience a place, absorb its essence, and reflect on my own thoughts. The peacefulness that walking offers gives me a sense of clarity and space to process ideas and challenges.
During my time on the Camino, I painted every day, immersing myself in plein air painting. That experience was truly transformative. It solidified my passion for painting and deepened my understanding of art’s healing power. I felt a profound connection with the landscape and the sublime beauty of the world around me. Walking through this constantly changing environment, I was reminded of the bittersweet nature of life. Each step along the path was unique, and you could never experience the same moment twice. This awareness of time and change really stuck with me.
Since returning to the Bay Area, I’ve continued hiking and taking urban walks to stay grounded and connected with the world around me. Walking allows me to escape the digital noise of everyday life and brings me back to a more mindful, observant state. This connection to place, through walking and painting, is something I continue to nurture in my art practice.
Urban Glow, 20x16, oil on Ampersand Gessobord
Your body of work is diverse. Are you more drawn to painting cityscapes, landscapes, or people? What is it about that subject matter that resonates with you the most?
I often feel like I’m not just painting a particular subject but rather painting light—moments in my everyday life when the light transforms a scene from the mundane to the sublime. There are these fleeting moments throughout the day when the light hits something just right, and suddenly, you see it in a completely new way. These moments take my breath away, and that’s really what I’m chasing in my work: capturing those moments when the world feels fresh and full of new possibility.
For me, these moments can happen in any subject—cityscapes, landscapes, or even with people. What resonates most with me is the search for this quality of light, no matter where I find it. Lately, I’ve been gravitating toward cityscapes and landscapes because they tend to feel more universal. A city or a natural scene can evoke something anyone can connect with, whereas a portrait can be more specific to that person. I want my work to be something that others can see themselves in.
That said, I also recognize that the figure, too, has universal qualities—it speaks to the human experience, just like a landscape or a cityscape does. As someone who loves spending time in the city and out in nature, I feel both worlds offer something vital. They each speak to different parts of us. So, whether it’s city scenes, nature, interiors, or portraits, I find each subject has its own merit, and they all have the potential to capture those transcendent moments of light that I’m after.
Lemons in the Winter Sun, 10x10, oil on Ampersand Gessobord
As an artist with your academic background, how do these two sides of your identity interact in your creative process? Do you find that they complement or challenge each other?
My academic background is in economics, a field that often operates under assumptions of rationality, logic, and utilitarianism. It’s a discipline based on clear, structured thinking and decision-making. What’s interesting is that one of the reasons I eventually left economics was because I felt like there was no room for beauty, emotion, or intuition—things that are central to the human experience but aren’t easily quantified or explained in economic terms. Economics tends to shy away from ambiguity and paradoxes, which are things I often encounter in my art.
In art, I find that ambiguity, paradox, and emotion play a huge role in my process. I had to move away from the rational, perfectionistic mindset I had in academia to truly embrace the messiness of art. If I try to make the “perfect” painting, it’s actually very demotivating for me. Art, for me, thrives in intuition, emotion, and the acceptance of not knowing everything. There are things I can’t explain in words, but I can express them through paint.
That said, the logical, rational part of me is still valuable, especially when it comes to running my art business. It helps me manage the practical side of my career, from budgeting to decision-making. So, while there’s definitely a push-pull between my academic and artistic sides, I think they each serve different purposes. Right now, it feels like the rational side focuses on the business aspects of my work, while the intuitive, emotional side drives my creative process. I don’t see one as better than the other—just different tools for different purposes.
Waiting for the Bus, 10x10, oil on Ampersand Gessobord
You have an upcoming solo show. Can you share the vision, themes, or ideas you are exploring, and what do you hope viewers take away from the experience?
My upcoming solo show focuses on light in the urban landscape of San Francisco, with a particular emphasis on rediscovering the familiar. I spend a lot of time walking around the city, riding the bus, and observing how the light and color in the environment shift from day to day. Whether it’s the subtle changes in the sunlight at different times of the year or the way the weather alters the way the city looks, I find that if you really pay attention, there’s always something new to notice. These moments are fleeting, and I love capturing them in my paintings before they disappear.
One of the key themes in my show is the idea of quiet, peaceful moments in the city. When people think of cities, they often think of noise and activity, but I find that there’s another side to the city—one that’s slower, quieter, and more contemplative. Whether it’s people absorbed in quiet tasks, sitting in cafes, or simply walking through a neighborhood with the sun casting long shadows, I aim to capture these serene moments that are often overlooked.
Through this show, I hope to encourage viewers to look more closely at the world around them and find moments of peace, especially in a city as stimulating as San Francisco. I want to create a space for mindfulness and reflection, helping people connect more deeply with their surroundings and take a step back from the distractions of modern life.
There’s also a personal element to the show. I moved to the Bay Area about 10 years ago and to San Francisco only a few years ago. Over time, I’ve been building a connection with the city—an intimacy that I want to share with others. The work isn’t focused on iconic landmarks like the Golden Gate Bridge but rather on the personal, everyday moments that make the city feel real and lived-in. These are the simple moments from my walks to my studio, my bus rides to visit friends, and quiet neighborhood scenes that speak to me. They’re unassuming, but there’s a deep beauty in them, and I hope to convey that sense of intimacy and connection to the viewers.
Night Ride on Irving St., 24x24, oil on Ampersand Gessobord
How did you discover Ampersand, and what do you love most about Gessobord for your work?
I actually discovered Ampersand through the artist Sarah Sedwick. I took one of her courses on still life painting where she introduced the idea of daily painting. That experience really sparked my return to focusing on art. However, my daily paintings were quite small, and I found that the texture of canvas was distracting when working on that scale.
Sedwick recommended Ampersand’s Gessobord, and I immediately fell in love with it. The texture is really understated—it’s smooth but still provides enough grip to hold the paint without being too slick. This was exactly what I needed for small works because it allowed me to paint without the texture of the canvas interfering with my brushstrokes. It’s just a wonderful balance.
Another thing I really appreciate about Gessobord is that, when I was working full-time and didn’t have the time to prepare my own panels, I could just buy ready-to-paint boards. That convenience made a huge difference for me, and now Gessobord is my favorite painting surface.
Blue Hour in North Beach, 10x10, oil on Ampersand Gessobord
Artist Bio:
Christina Kent is a full-time figurative painter working primarily in oils. A former PhD economist, Kent's transition to painting was sparked by a realization that the rational economic lens could not fully capture the complexity of human experience. Through her art, she explores the subtle nuances of everyday life, often reflecting on quiet, fleeting moments. Kent has exhibited at the Marin Museum of Contemporary Art, among other galleries in Northern California. In 2023, she was awarded the Emerging Artist Award from Pence Gallery and had a solo exhibition there in 2024. Kent has been invited to both domestic and international artist residencies, and her upcoming solo exhibition opens in San Francisco at Studio Gallery in March of 2025. To see more of Christina’s work, visit her website, Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, TikTok, and Bluesky.
