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Jill Schulman: A Life In Layers
By Alexandra Bonnet
Long before paint found its way onto canvases and layers of texture became part of her visual language, Jill Schulman was a storyteller — a collector of words, a keeper of journals, an only child with an imagination big enough to fill the quiet. She invented worlds. She wrote. She dreamed.
Painting found Schulman during one of the most painful turning points of her life, just as she was stepping out of a decade of darkness and beginning to see the light. When Schulman moved into a new apartment, she transformed her stark white walls into a patchwork quilt of color, vibrancy and texture.
Rather than seeing the empty walls as a reminder of what was gone, Schulman began painting them. She wanted her children to walk into that space and feel comfortable, warm, alive. She wanted it to feel like it truly belonged to them. At first, it wasn't about becoming an artist. It was about making a home for herself and her children. About taking four stark white walls and filling them with something warm, alive and theirs.
But stroke by stroke, color by color, something began to change. Her paintbrush became a kind of magic wand — transforming not only the walls around her, but a painful chapter into something filled with color, expression and joy.
The woman who once turned to words to make sense of the world had found another language in paint. She was already making something beautiful out of what she had been given.
And therein lies her true power.
Schulman’s imagination has always run free. As an only child growing up before smartphones and constant digital entertainment, she created characters, invented scenarios and imagined herself as everything from a rock star to a teacher. She kept journals, won creative-writing awards and eventually earned a master’s degree in literacy from NYU. “Writing was always my jam,” Schulman shared with a chuckle.
Around the age of 9, she began collecting quotes — little pieces of wisdom and words that stayed with her long after she first found them. At the time, she had no idea just how much those words would continue to follow her.
A Newfound Love
What began as catharsis became a hobby. The hobby became a passion. And eventually, the passion became part of her identity. Finding art was only the beginning. Once Schulman realized it was going to be more than a loving hobby, she had to discover what her art would become.
Early on, she looked outward for inspiration, studying artists like Kandinsky and Chagall. Experimenting with styles and techniques, Schulman learned by doing. Eventually, something shifted. She stopped asking what other artists were doing and started asking what she wanted to create.
Schulman’s work today is vibrant, tactile and layered — meant to be experienced almost physically. Dried paint, recyclable materials and layers mounted onto canvas create depth and texture, while words and phrases disappear beneath the surface. “Sometimes, you have to look twice,” she shared with what could only sound like a grin on the other line. “Look closer, and you find the story.”
In many ways, Schulman’s art is a continuation of the little girl who began collecting quotes decades ago. One day, she took an old book, decoupaged it onto a canvas, let it dry and wrote a quote over the top.
Not too long after, her children wanted pieces for their rooms, and soon friends and family began asking for their own. For Schulman, there was something especially meaningful about seeing her children take an interest in what she was creating. “I couldn’t believe my kids actually thought what I was doing was cool,” Schulman said with a laugh.
(I mean, I may not be a mom yet but I know how much of a win that is!)
And So, She Paints On
Today, Schulman also creates custom pieces, working with clients to choose quotes, colors, canvas sizes and fonts until the work becomes something entirely personal. One custom request came with the wonderfully irreverent line: “Don’t chase, be chase, the tequila, not the lime.”
For Schulman, that is part of the joy. She loves creating something that feels like it could belong to no one else. For all the texture and color in her work, its purpose is surprisingly simple: she wants people to be happy. “I hope it makes them so, so, so happy,” she said with joy. “I love to give.”
That generosity extends beyond her artwork. Schulman is a devoted mother, deeply connected to her own mother and the kind of friend people turn to when they need someone to listen. She often finds herself acting as everyone’s therapist — the person who helps, supports and shows up. Then comes one of the most revealing lines of her story: “I feel like all the help I never received is all the help I give.” There is the survivor in that sentence. Not the survivor as a label, but as a way of moving through the world. Her pain didn't teach her to give less. It taught her to give more.
The Art of Getting Back Up
Schulman doesn't romanticize resilience, either. She knows that being strong doesn't mean being strong every second. When life becomes difficult, she describes herself as moving between two extremes.“I vacillate between being a warrior… and totally going under the covers and hibernating for two days.” Sometimes she faces life head-on. Sometimes she retreats. She processes, rests and regroups. And then she gets back up. “To the world, I show up,” she said with strength in her voice.
Perhaps that is the heart of her resilience: not never falling apart, but knowing you can, and still choosing to return. Ask Schulman what she would tell someone who wants to create, and her answer is simple. “Keep going. The more you write, the better you become. The more you pick up a paintbrush, the more you learn. You experiment. You fail. You try again.”
The same philosophy applies to life.
“Keep going. Keep going. Keep going,” Schulman says.
And she has. Through rebuilding, rediscovering herself and turning a blank wall into a canvas, art became a passion and a way to connect with others. She never set out to become an artist; she set out to survive, to rebuild and to create a life for herself and her children.
Somewhere along the way, she found art — or perhaps art found the part of Jill that had been there all along.
The writer. The dreamer. The mother. The giver. The warrior. The survivor.
She turned poison into elixir.
Art by Jill Schulman