December 18, 2020
"Once there was a man that didn't have a brain. He didn't think that people thought he was strange. So he lived the way he wanted, going in a zig zag." -Danielle G, 3rd grade
Sometimes I miss teaching just for little gems like this. Kids have remarkable innocent brains! I wish I kept whatever painting went with this quote, but I can only imagine it and maybe that's just as good.
I spent the day re-organizing my art studio. My small space fills up quickly, so every time I finish a series of work, I need to find a place for it all, all over again. This time I got in deep, and discovered a bunch of old art journals, and a whole slew of inspiring little pieces of paper with artist quotes and images.
February 12, 2010 I was working on my first purely abstract painting; a departure from the figurative work I had been making. Reading that journal entry made me think, oh I've been doing this for ten years now, maybe in another ten years it'll really be something!
November 20, 2020
It didn't make it into the recent article, "Beacon In Quarantine", in the Highlands Current, but here's Nancy LeVine's photo of me on my stoop. Her documentary project Quarantined Folks In Beacon During The Pandemic of 2020 is meant as a record of our time and includes 80 Beacon artists who were asked to be photographed in front of their spaces and write a paragraph about their experience during quarantine.
I just moved to a new place at the very beginning of the quarantine, which added a great deal to my stress in this situation. I am now living alone for the first time in almost twenty years, and this has changed my view of isolation quite a bit. As an artist who has sought creative solitude my whole life, there’s something about this that feels very different. My art studio is now adjacent to my living room, and I am out of work due to the pandemic, so I have all the time and space I could want, yet I haven’t been able to focus on my artwork for more than short spurts. Usually when I’m overwhelmed and unable to concentrate on my large paintings, I work on smaller projects, and this is what I’ve been occupying my time with; drawing, collage, knitting. I’ve also been reading a lot more than usual. The pandemic is bringing some real truth to the surface. It’s an opportunity to prioritize what’s really important, as opposed to what merely takes up our time and energy. It is more than challenging to live in a moment where the future is so unknown, but it forces us to be present and accept the moment as it is. Everyone is suffering in one way or another, but there is an opportunity for change here, which is hopeful. I feel the power of all of us being in this together. I’m still here, and there must be a reason for that! We each have a purpose to fulfill that is greater than just us alone.
October 23, 2020
|Prismacolor markers on Tyvek, 24 x 24"|
It's almost exactly a year ago that I started making these striped drawings. I was having a lot of anxiety at the time, and the only thing I could think of to calm my nerves was to color long straight vertical lines over and over.
So much has happened in one year. I have gone back and forth, working on the stripes, then putting them away, working on more stripes, then putting them away, in different mediums, materials, and sizes. All along, I struggled to see their relevance within the context of my painting practice. I knew they were worthwhile to make, but I didn't know what to do with them.
|Four 5 x 7" drawings, prismacolor markers on card stock, the backs of old gallery postcards|
With the pandemic and quarantine, the need for anxiety reducing activity became paramount, and the stripes suddenly were brought to the forefront of my studio practice. Working on these scraps (literally, since some of the drawings are on scraps of cardboard, and the knitted pieces are mostly made with leftover scraps of yarn) has been a great source of reassurance and consistency for me. And, as with most things, the more you do, the more you discover. The work has grown in scope and importance. The stripes seem to have taken on a life of their own, infiltrating even the large paintings now.
|detail of knitted piece|
I keep reminding myself, everything counts, and everything's connected.
|Grasping, prismacolor markers on fluorescent cardstock, with collaged elements|
See more drawings on my website.
October 3, 2020
I spent the full day yesterday taking pictures of new work and updating my website. Check it here: www.samanthapalmeri.com
This pandemic has me feeling frayed and unfocused. I've started five different projects in the past six months, adding to the growing pile of bits and pieces on my studio floor. Yes I've been working, but I've also been pacing, biding my time, and letting the dirty dishes pile up.
I'm a visual person. I need to see things in front of my face. So getting all these pieces photographed and uploaded and organized feels like a little miracle! I even came up with titles for the new work, most of it at least, which can sometimes be a daunting task.
Lean Into It is one of those titles. I thought of it for this painting below, because I see it as images literally leaning on and into one another, but I ended up using it for a different piece.
I had a vague notion of what made me think of the expression to begin with, but when I looked up the meaning, I was so pleasantly surprised. It perfectly describes this entire body of work, and my state of mind during this strange time, and I chalk that up to the power of serendipity and the subconscious.
|Fake It Till You Make It, |
the inevitable final title of this piece: oil, oil stick, and oil pastel on canvas, 64x58 inches
Lean into it-
To embrace; to experience fully or respond to wholeheartedly. To take on or embrace something difficult or unpleasant, usually through determination or perseverance; to find a way to benefit from, or alleviate the harm of, risk, uncertainty and difficult situations.
Cheers to leaning into it! Hopefully we'll all be able to clink our glasses together, in person, real soon...
September 2, 2020
In July I participated in a project at The Re-Institute in Millerton, NY called Together in Isolation. Artist Henry Klimowicz, owner of the space, started the project in April as an ongoing record of this time.
Artwork is created inside a clear plastic box that is then buried in the ground and lit up at night. The work is spaced along a path in the landscape and viewers experience the work while walking at their own pace looking down through the top lit "window" of each piece.
My piece is titled "Unraveling"
We long to be seen and heard, and to feel our presence in the world. So we make a mark. In a time of uncertainty and isolation, we create, in order to feel ourselves, connected, anchored.
These are unfinished drawings pieced together on found cardboard, rock and driftwood from the shore, and knitted yarn, some partially unraveled. Representing the scattering of time and focus, the comfort in the handmade, and the groundedness of the earth.
|Some of the pieces that went into my box|
|Samantha Palmeri "Unraveling"|
|View of the grounds at Re-Institute|
|Samantha Palmeri "Unraveling"|
|View of the artwork lit up|
|Artist Christian Pietrapiana "So?"|
|Artist Nancy Daubenspeck "Consider the Lilies"|
-from the press release:
The gallery is open on Wednesdays and Fridays from dusk until dark by appointment via the website, www.TheReInstitute.com
A primary objective of the show revolves around the inherent paradox of its title: Together in Isolation. While the artists are each creating work alone in their studios, they are simultaneously contributing to the exhibition as a whole which continues to weave and morph in surprising ways. The show’s growth is organic and unpredictable and layers of meaning are created and recreated as each box is buried in the ground. The exhibition is a poignant and lasting record of this time of isolation, hardship, and sadness, but it also delivers unexpected glimmers of hope.
New pieces will continue to be accepted until such a time as we may all safely gather indoors together again. Then Together in Isolation will end as it began – paradoxically – with a celebratory closing instead of an opening.
August 24, 2020
|Untitled Pink I, oil on canvas, approx. 46x40 inches|
|Untitled Pink II, oil on canvas, approx. 46x40 inches|
|Untitled Pink III, oil on canvas, approx. 27x35 inches|
June 6, 2020
The second I asked for it, all my markers and pens ran out of ink simultaneously! No joke! I'm grateful for the lesson, and in spite of that, I'm really enjoying these drawings, not only for the process of making them, but because I feel certain they will make their way to larger paintings, and that makes me happy. The series is ongoing and is titled Fill My Cup, each one is 8 x 10 inches, art markers and colored pencil on paper