Jerome Tiunayan synthesizes personal storytelling, comics-inspired illustration and gallows humor to recast the Hero’s Journey for our postmodern age. His spirited, narrative-driven paintings depict the semi-autobiographical misadventures of his signature character and the boy’s faithful canine sidekick (inspired by Jerome’s dog Mochi) — a radical, career-redefining break from the bleak, inky catharsis of the artist’s previous professional work. 

Jerome (IG: @gohomejerome) first appeared at Vertical Gallery as part of 2024’s Summer Group Show. He resurfaced at year’s end for our annual Holiday Group Show, and most recently appeared at the gallery’s 12-Year Anniversary Show in April 2025. Jerome also joined the Vertical staff part-time in October 2024, soon after relocating from his native Brooklyn.  

From Sept. 5-27, Jerome will co-headline the Vertical group show ‘The Scenic Route’ alongside fellow Chicago-based painters/Vertical teammates Joseph Renda Jr. and Laura Catherwood. In the latest installment of Vertical’s Artist Spotlight series, Jerome previews his contributions to ‘The Scenic Route,’ shares the mindset behind the work and explains why death is only the beginning.

Vertical Gallery: ‘The Scenic Route’ represents your fourth appearance in a Vertical Gallery group show. How is this new work different from what you’ve exhibited here in the past?

Jerome Tiunayan: I don’t know if I would use the word “different.” In my previous work, there was no real throughline: it was just my character and his dog in different places. This time, I wanted a more focused, cohesive story, and I didn’t want to rely on the environment to tell the story. I relied on the character. 

It’s a very deeply personal story. If people want to ask about it, I’m not going to pull any punches — I’ll tell them everything they want to know, and everything that went into it. But I want the work to be enigmatic, and I want to keep it mysterious.

‘The Scenic Route’ pairs you opposite two other Vertical fixtures. Take us behind the scenes — what goes into a group show like this one, especially when you’re working with close colleagues?

One half of me — the one I leaned into most — didn’t want to be the weak link. The more people there are in a group show, the easier it is to get away with shittiness. But with only three people, you’ve really got to be on point, or else the whole show suffers. I’m very aware there’s a hierarchy: Joe and Laura are much further along in their careers, and they’ve achieved much greater success than I have. I respect them a lot, and admire their work ethic. I just wanted to be good enough that my work didn’t take anything away from theirs. 

The other half of me was like “I’m going to smoke these fools” [laughter]. I really want the work to be good, and I want people to come into the gallery and think “Damn, he held his own” or “I like this stuff more than the other stuff.” It’s a balance between wanting to be invisible and make [Joe and Laura] look good, and wanting to separate myself a little bit. 

The last time we saw your character, in April’s 12-Year Anniversary Show, he died. Now here he is back again, the picture of health. What meaning does death have in your world?

It’s a chance to start over. I like that idea. I also like the idea of leaning into cartoon reality, where characters die but reappear in the next episode. Things just keep going. I like that suspension of disbelief. 

I can’t be too precious about where I am, the work I’m making and the story I’m telling, because there’s always room for another one. If a part of me has to die for things to continue or live on, I’ll lean into that. That’s the whole impetus for making this work [with my character]: I had to leave part of me behind to lean into this stuff. 

Your paintings tell a classic boy-and-his-dog story. Why does that narrative trope continue to work after all this time, and across so many different mediums?

Because longing for companionship doesn’t go away. We’re all hardwired for community, and we want to go on adventures with others, instead of just doing things by ourselves. 

Have you ever read Into the Wild [Jon Krakauer’s 1996 non-fiction book about Christopher McCandless’ ill-fated hike across North America into remote Alaska]? Just before he died, Chris McCandless wrote “Happiness is only real when shared.” I never forgot that. He fancied himself this vagabond, but in the end, he wanted someone there with him. People always want someone to lean on, now more than ever.

What’s next for you after ‘The Scenic Route’?  

I’m exhibiting with Vertical at Aqua Art Miami 2025 in December. I’ll have six pieces there. I’m keeping the concept close to the chest, but I’m very excited about it.