• Abstract painting of two people embracing, with one person's face obscured, against a dark night sky backdrop with a moon.

james parker foley

Portland, ME

James Parker Foley (b. 1993) is an oil painter known for his brilliant blue figures floating, swimming, and wading through surreal landscapes. He has exhibited extensively in the northeast at venues such as Sarah Bouchard Gallery, New System Exhibitions, the Portland Museum of Art, Spring/Break Art Fair New York, and Transmitter. His work has been featured in New American Paintings, Maine Magazine, Down East, and the Portland Press Herald. His work can be found in significant public and private collections, including nine works in collection of the Bowdoin College Museum of Art.

James earned his M.F.A. at Maine College of Art in 2020 and his B.A. in Environmental Humanities at Sterling College in Vermont in 2015. He has completed residencies on Monhegan Island (2021), Jx Farms (2022), Monson Arts (2023), and Hewnoaks (2024, 2025). He received a Springboard Grant from the Maine Arts Commission and a 2026 Kindling Fund Grant to support his ongoing project, Ultraviolet Arts, which hosts a residency for trans artists. James is a gay transsexual whose practice is grounded within an intimate community of queer artists in Portland, Maine. He is represented by Sarah Bouchard Gallery.

Selected Works     Exhibits     Statement     CV     Press     Inquire

Selected Works


exhibits


  • White-walled art gallery with several paintings, mostly blue and black, hung on the walls. Large windows on the right side showing greenery outside.

    A Cruising Guide to the Maine Coast

    James Parker Foley
    July 5 – August 5, 2025 [link:/a-cruising-guide-to-the-maine-coast]

  • Interior of an art gallery with abstract paintings on white walls, featuring blue hues and human figures, with windows letting in natural light.

    James Parker Foley

    A Solo Debut
    August 12 – September 17, 2023 [link:/foley-a-solo-debut]

Artist Statement


When working in the studio, I spend a lot of time in a place I might call my painting-ocean. It is a psychological space in which I am submerged in my own notions of space and time. Beneath its surface, the busy goings-on of the everyday are muffled. Cavernous possibility engulfs me. These paintings are about being in that space.

The experience of making this work was akin to diving into a deep and narrow pool not wide enough to turn around in, but with an opening on the other end. I knew ahead of time that going through would require tremendous energy, contained within a single breath. I did not know how deep the pool was, what was at the bottom, or if I’d come back.

As I was making the work, I found the boundary at the periphery of my painting-ocean. In my practice, interesting painting happens when I am working at the edge of my skill-set. I try to make work that I didn’t have the skills to make yesterday, but that I just might be capable of today.

It is on that periphery that I try to careen over the edge to see what is below. There, I am continually startled to find what seems to be a whole other painting-ocean. And getting to that deeper ocean requires both a deep breath and the trust that I will come out on the other side into a space with oxygen. This is what it means to go down for air.

In that sense, this is a show about trusting the work. It is about traveling between worlds: between the ocean of my practice so far and the ocean of my practice as it is yet to be. I decided, in the end, to make the show about neither of those spaces — it is neither history, nor fantasy — but instead, an investigation of the space between.

We think of the horizon as a line or boundary — and it is — but it is also a space. I found that by taking the horizon, pinching it between my fingers, and tipping it backward or forward, or a little to the side, I was able to expand its territory within the picture plane. I wanted this space — the space at the end of the deep and narrow pool — to become familial to me. I wanted to take discomfiting, transitional, in-between space and make it visible. This space only registers — optically — as space (as opposed to flat color) because of the figures (bodies or dories) passing through it. The horizon is visually defined in relationship to transition, to movement. The border is made not for passing through, but by passing through.

I sometimes take for granted the nature of the line between ocean and sky, between figure and ground. These edges are entire worlds unto themselves. The figures in these works are those of us on journeys through the in-between horizons. They are diligently going about the business of becoming themselves.

When everything feels upside down, or as though I am inside a deep and narrow pool, I think it’s good to remember that between being where I am and where I am heading is a place unto itself. The horizon is, after all, a remarkable place to be, because it exists while we pass through it.

CV

Born: Concord, NH | 1993
Resides: Portland, ME

Press


Inquire

To inquire about available works or learn more about James Parker Foley, please get in touch.