My Selection -

Paintings

…And the Sky is Blue, 2022, oil on Belgian linen, 60 x 80 cm.

I want to move past my sorrow and the sorrow I see or remember in the world in order to look over the giant reflected light and see myself. I finished a new painting: “…And The Sky is Blue”. Like a weaver I layer brushstroke over brushstroke, hundreds of light threads nurturing the painting, countless emotional moments between the canvas and the brush touching it. The color I channel becomes something else, it hovers, the linen transforms into a place, a thing, the whole room. Looking at a color rendered on canvas, | can contemplate its wholeness and its constant change through traveling light.

I am the Light, 2022, oil on Belgian linen, 60 x 80 cm.

Sun and Doubt, 2022, oil on Belgian linen, 60 x 80 cm.

You are the dance and the dancing, but not the dancer. You were born to die, and yet there is no birth nor death. Each time you face your fear of the undefined, visualize the river moving you, in order to access a Knowing that defies any limiting definition. It is a state of being; it is the The Fool taking a step into empty space; it is saying yes by being still. You don’t yet know what the Truth is, yet you carry that Truth in your heart, and whenever you catch a glimpse of it, you know it, you remember it, and there is not one shred of doubt.

A lot like Music, 2022, oil on Belgian linen, 60 x 80 cm.

Untitled, 2022, oil on Belgian linen, 80 x 60 cm.

The World, 2022, oil on Belgian linen, 60 x 70 cm.

The World poem by Ellis Buettner

Your spectacular snow hits the ground , as lightning bolts hit the pound , as war rains down the lady wears her special gown , as blades hit ice the eagle hunts for mice , as the rich enjoy their hearts delight , the poor hate their life inspite . “ what have I got to live for ? I’m as poor as can be, I don’t have a house that I’m fit for, and I’m sad as he.” As the bees pass away, the bay is very sandy, as Mandy rides her bike, her little brother is stuck on his trike.

Untitled, 2022, oil on Belgian linen, 80 x 60 cm.

Bindu, 2017, oil on Belgian linen, 76 x 66 cm.

My heart touches the ground. With the sword of discernment in my right hand I surrender to the muse allowing her to take the lead. We dance together into the darkness of the womb. I cruise deeper, down toward the center, pedaling with a new set of training wheels toward a new phase of life. Is there a title for this chapter? Once more out of the darkness; my soul in process; just form that dissolves. In my underworld journey I reach the bindu, the dot, the zero point, the sludge, and I smell the putrid stench of the cesspool cleaned out by a roto-rooter. This magma, this mess emerges from the underworld onto the canvas and expands outward becoming an animated organism that transforms into light.

Buidhe, 2017, oil on Belgian linen, 55 x 76 cm.

Yellow trekking across the prison of the ego, no doors nor exits in the basement of consciousness. I trust in the process, in the surgical light beam that guides me. Warm yellow grabbing and expanding its radiant wisdom. A universal force. Timeless. My sheets reassuring diamond suns.

Blues, 2017, oil on Belgian linen, 110 x 110 cm.

Gemini is the diamond, the sign that transcends duality, also known as the male-female self. As an awakened soul I already know that gender is the first and foremost original product of descending into duality. My practice is to think outside the box, to realize that I originate from the vast universal mind and ultimately to discover that the box itself does not exist. When I feel small, I remember that I know how to step out of the box I entered only to simply notice how it feels inside. Now more feminine energy rises, bringing me into balance. I am projecting my truth onto a blank screen to find myself, my breath, and keep expanding into infinite space.

Snow Flake, 2016, oil on Belgian linen, 80 x 80 cm.

Artist’s books

Luce, 2016/2017

Leather, handwoven silk bands, cotton, gouache on handmade paper, oil on Belgian linen, 50 x 50 x 12 cm.

Luce is a series of 12 oil paintings on Belgian linen made in 2016 at Tyrone Guthrie Centre in Ireland. The paintings are housed in a leather case inspired by a 7^th century Coptic binding. The bands are hand woven according to the artist’s design in Val Mustair, Switzerland.

12 Divine Rays of Light, 2016/2017, oil on Belgian linen, 50 x 100 cm. each

The Magical Cherry Tree, 2019/2020

Silk, cotton, Belgian linen, natural dyes, mother of pearl, 45 x 55 x 3 cm.

“Two Cherry trees in love were looking at each other without being able to touch. A Cloud saw them and moved by compassion, cried and shook their leaves…but it wasn’t enough, the two Cherry trees did not touch. The Tempest saw them, and moved by compassion, screamed and shook their branches…but it wasn’t enough, the Cherry trees did not touch. The Mountain saw them, and moved by compassion, shook their trunks…but it was not enough, the Cherry trees did not touch. Cloud, Tempest and Mountain did not know that underground, the roots of the Cherry trees were intertwined in a timeless embrace”

[Anonymous]

Silk, cotton, Belgian linen, natural dyes, mother of pearl, 45 x 55 x 3 cm.

Silk, cotton, Belgian linen, natural dyes, mother of pearl, 45 x 55 x 3 cm. Collection of The National Museum of Women in the Arts, Washington D. C.

In Aula Ingenti Memoriae Meae, 2020

Silk, cotton, Belgian linen, natural dyes, 50 x 55 x 3 cm.

La 24 Ore, 2014 – ongoing project

Mixed media, 28 X 43 X 3 cm.

he Italian “24 Ore” (literally, “24 hours”) is a leather briefcase designed to hold only a day’s essentials. The 24 Ore embody the process of memory itself, its limitations and demands for selection and compression: a house must become a small, portable case; years passed within its walls must become only moments of inward reflection.

Pothogravures, 2015, Somerset white paper, 25 x 38 cm.

Potogravures, 2015, Somerset white paper, 38 x 25 cm.

Potogravure, 2015, Somerset white paper, 38 x 25 cm.

Institute of Fine Arts, NYU, New York 2015

Me/We, 2015, embroidery on Belgian linen, 17 x 30 x 2 cm.

Frammenti, 2015-2016

Oil on Belgian linen, embroidery on linen, 180 x 175 cm.

During my stay in a secluded cottage in Cornwall, I’d go out in the dark and isolated landscape and paint at night. I could barely see my hand, brush and colors. All I could paint were fragments of the dark. I thought about duality and wholeness, about fragmentation as infinite possibility: a fragment will mirror our desire for unity and completeness, its nature both proposes and denies wholeness and can never be grasped or exhausted. Once back in the studio I hand stitched some of the painted fragments on old pillowcases, handed down by my grandmother to my mother. I cut the pillows into squares and sewed the linen fragments together. They may be a book, a tapestry, a painting, a collage, folding and unfolding like bed sheets and revealing embroidered traces of memory of 3 generations of women.

Chi, 2015-2017

Cape Cornwall, UK

Enveloping an abandoned stone house nestled under a cliff beside the sea ano used once by tin miners to store explosives, allowed me to reflect upon the perpetual principles of impermanence, repair, and renewal. Using vivid blue fishing net ano rope to cover its sides and to weave together the precarious slate pieces of its broken roof, I found myself thinking of motherhood. Memories came to me of my mother and my grandmother: clever, patient, soothing and indispensable. As I adjusted to the elemental nature of my work I found that I became a mother bird, patiently and constantly returning to weave her fragile nest; each day slowly expanding and tightening my work; repairing it when the sea and wind unraveled it. My rhythm was the moon’s dance. I rose when the tide went down, often encountering on the stony beach a fisherman who lived according to the same ancient clock that I did now. I worked during low tide, weaving and clambering about the structure until the cold salt water had swirled up to cover the rocks on which the old Cornish house sat. The sea, like a true artist, with his unforgiving liquid hands rose up and undid large parts of my work. Once it had finished pulling apart the man-made rope, mixing shades of blue within its swirling depths, I could begin again on a fresh canvas. Nothing survived but the essence, and the mother bird, returning like the tide to continue her work.

The Magical Cherry Tree, 2018-2020

Every tree holds a story, some hold memories and beliefs: Marcel Proust’s narrator fell into a ‘remembrance of things past’ after dropping his madeleine in the tea made form the flowers of a linden tree…Each growth layer of the wild cherry tree contains a bit of the air from the land where I grew up: “La Brianza”, the place I left when I moved to the United States. I have searched for harmony by dying and subsequently sewing together fragments of silk and linen. The color palette was given by the wild cherry flowers, as if its petals could fly above any physical border.