Welcome! I’m Kerin Nicole Bowen, though you’ll see my work signed in different ways—“Kerin,” “Kerin Nicole,” “Kerin Bowen,” “Nicky”, or even “KNB”—each marking an exploration of my identity.

I was born at the very end of the ’80s with a front-row seat to the great American Experiment—in all its glory and chaos. My dad, of Italian and Irish descent. My mom, Russian and English. While laboring in water, the midwife knew to calm my mom down or else “I wouldn’t come out,” foreshadowing the delicate balance of peace and turbulence that would define my life, work and deep love of privacy.

Growing up on the East Coast, I navigated the very complex world of middle-class America, from abuse and addiction to mental illness, in an environment where struggle and ambition were in constant battle. The expectation of greatness colliding with the harshness of reality. The psychic and familial aftermath of the Vietnam War and the Great Depression. Stories of struggle to lay roots in foreign land, cultures colliding in their desire for the Dream. My fragile and sensitive nature absorbed every nuance.

The first time I saw the Manhattan skyline from a van on the way to Florida, escaping the cold North, I knew I’d be here painting someday. The image of the towers carried me through eighteen years in South Carolina, where I grew accustomed to living in the rhythm of nature.

Creativity and independence ran deep in my home. One of my earliest memories is of my mom confidently parading through the school hallways, correcting my name from “KeVin” to “KeRin” on paintings with a ballpoint pen. My dad would wake up at four a.m. to draft his pools for a meeting at nine. I strove to be the perfect blend between my dad’s precise lines and script and my mom’s flowing cursive.

When I met my lifelong art teacher at age six, my work began to take on new life. But later, after encountering other rigid, discouraging teachers, I rejected formal instruction. Instead, I embraced my role as a “sign maker,” “handwriter,” and “artist-for-hire” around age twelve, earning a few bucks for a hand-sketched alphabet for a classmate.

To support my art, I’ve spent twenty years in complementary health care and hospitality, exploring healing, connection, and humanity close-up. These experiences ground my work, allowing me to express an intimate understanding of the body, the mind, the environment, glimpses of divinity, patterns in human behavior, politics, and the evolution of society.

Moving to New York was a rebirth. Living among artists has allowed me to reflect on the pursuit of creation. The lengths one will go to for a moment of alignment with that source of creative power—what I consider liberation.

While highly externally influenced, my work also reflects an incredibly dense internal landscape—a life spent questioning rules, rejecting conformity, exploring sexuality. Brushes with the law and death from experimenting with the boundaries of my body and health. An obsession with embracing new beliefs as old ones disappear.

I’m just old enough now to have enough perspective on my work to trace themes: Materially—presently preferring natural surfaces, non-toxic paints and watercolors, yet at certain points in my career would say “whatever’s on sale”. Visually and thematically—embracing the beauty inherent in change and growth, the range from organic curves, soft shapes and color to bold contrast and geometric lines, duality, minimalism and solitude, the human condition, wildlife and florals, abstraction blended with a bit of surrealism and expressionism, and the occasional controversial interpretation of society.

I've made art everywhere I could. On the beach. In my apartment and a leaky basement. In museums and an abandoned gallery on Madison Avenue. On the street. In and for restaurants. In a shed in my parents’ backyard, in barns and on rooftops. When I should have been paying attention to the teacher. On indoor & outdoor walls. My art has always found a way to exist, no matter the space, no matter the circumstance.

My work is often chaotic, unpredictable, and random. At other times, calm and minimal. It’s made to be interactive. I want you to feel how interdependent we are. I want to shatter the illusion of separateness. I want you to forget fear, to be bold in confronting oppression, however miniscule or great it presents itself to you. To recognize your power and reclaim your agency, over and over again.

Thank you for being here with me.
Stay as free as you can.

All artworks, images, and content on this website or otherwise produced by the artist are protected under U.S. and international copyright laws. Unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or commercial use is strictly prohibited without written permission from the artist. For licensing or acquisition inquiries, please contact studio@kerinnicole.com