Between Lost and Found

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Paintings in my art gallery

This weekend, I hosted my first ever solo art gallery! After months of painting, drawing, designing, and planning, I closed the show yesterday after a successful showing. To commemorate the show and to make it accessible to online viewers, I have compiled a digital walk-through here on my website. I hope you enjoy the show, and without further ado, here is Between Lost and Found!

Overview of Gallery and Decorations

Gallery Walkthrough Video

Here is a video walking through the full gallery before opening night!

Featured Pieces

A drawing of Harkness Tower

Harkness Tower (Winter), March 2023

Graphite on drawing paper, printed to 20 x 26 in.

I have made two renditions of Harkness Tower. This drawing, the oldest in the show, was made during my first year. It is more visually complex than its successor, with careful details and intricate linework. However, this fixation on visual accuracy, in my eyes, mutes my subjective view of the scene, making it feel tonally different from my recent work. I included this drawing to demonstrate my younger self’s idealization of perfection and hesitation around showing vulnerability and subjectivity.

Full-Length Self-Portrait, April 2023

Graphite on toned art paper, printed to 20 x 26 in.

This piece lies somewhere between a drawing and a series of journal entries. Every pencil stroke is a letter, every line is a word, every shape is a paragraph, and the whole thing forms an essay. The paragraphs that compose this essay all came from my stream-of-consciousness, unfiltered and unerased. This piece is the most personally eye-opening I have made because it was the first time my art expressed vulnerability. This “full-length” self-portrait addresses my struggles with chronic anxiety and depression, perfectionism, impostor syndrome, and how I wanted to work to remedy these lifelong struggles.

A painting of Harkness Tower

Harkness Tower (Autumn), November 2024

Oil on primed Bristol paper, 11 x 14 in.

This is a recent painting of Harkness Tower. Painted in plein air, I worked much faster than the tens of hours I spent rendering the previous pencil version. Surrounded by floral trees and embedded with color, this expressionist view, while less detailed than its predecessor, feels alive and personalized to my experience of the space. I can appreciate my former self’s desire to achieve technical proficiency, but I have to admit that painting in this free, expressive style feels much more enjoyable!

Lost In Paradise, December 2023

Oil on canvas board, 20 x 24 in. Printed to 20 x 24 in.

I gifted this impressionist painting to my ex-boyfriend for Christmas. It shows the Rockefeller Center ice rink, which was our last date before an argument that terminated the relationship. Since I no longer possess it, my relationship to this work is complicated. However, I have included a print of it in this show to honor its role in my self-discovery.

Rockefeller Ice Rink in oils.
Self-portrait in oils.

(se(lf(port)ra)it), February 2024

Oil on canvas board, 12 x 24 in.

Made exactly one year ago, this portrait expresses fracturing, disorientation, and hopelessness triggered by repeated losses amid a depressive episode. After losing ownership of my then-proudest work following a breakup, Lost In Paradise, I vowed to create an honest, vulnerable piece I was even more proud of. I challenged myself to push myself to my compositional limits and forged a new style that translated my raw emotions visually.

Collateral, January 2024

Digital drawing, printed to 20 x 15 in.

Breaking up and ceasing contact with my long-distance high school sweetheart made me realize how many objects of his I possessed that I could never return, along with how many of mine he had. This still life compiles my stockpile of his unopened gifts and shared objects, reflecting on their transformative encapsulation from comfort to heartache.

A still life in greyscale

Self-Portrait With Flowers, May 2024

Oil on canvas, 26 x 30 in.

This portrait was made three months after (se(lf(port)ra)it) as proof of my journey to create an optimistic self-image. These paintings pair well because they document the fluctuating nature of one’s mindset when living with mental illnesses. Before my remission, I thought I was doomed to wander down an endlessly repetitive road of struggle, but after working to change my mindset, I confronted my fear of the unknown and learned how to determine a bright, blossoming future for myself.

An Aromatic Refuge For The Socially Anxious, (My Room), March 2024

Digital drawing, printed to 26 x 20 in.

Not having a room in my family home means my dorm room is my safe haven, particularly as an introvert. This quick render  considers the homely nature of my Yale dorm while acknowledging its impermanence and lack of ownership, as I move dorm rooms every year.

Digital watercolor of my dorm room.
Booklets on display at the show

“If You Could Say Anything To A Person Who Is No Longer In Your Life, What Would It Be?” An Anonymous Collection, April 2024

Graphic design, printed booklet, 8.5 x 11 in.

This collection of anonymous responses highlights the diverse responses to the above question. It explores the complex aftermath of loss from 36 anonymous perspectives. While loss is often isolating, this booklet demonstrates that many of us experience similar emotions, both positive and negative. To learn more about this work and view it digitally, visit this blog post!

Roommates, June 2024

White pen on black poster board, printed to 20 x 30 in.

This layered drawing of my brother, Val, and his roommate, Mae, demonstrates their unique identities while situated in the context of a shared living environment. This repetitive composition includes several instances of their distinct personalities in paired planes of existence to characterize them beyond a single composition. When I created this drawing, I had been away from our home for several weeks while studying art in Italy. During my time abroad, I wished to share my experiences with them every day. Drawing these scenes helped me feel more connected with them and remember their unique charms despite the physical distance.

Ink drawing of overlapping portraits.
A painting of an eerie figure with an umbrella

Blacked-Out Dream, (The Wisdom Tooth Catastrophe), June 2024

Oil on canvas board, 15.7 x 19.7 in.

After a botched wisdom tooth surgery, I had to be transported to the emergency room and passed out on the operating table from blood loss. I am prone to fainting, but had never dreamt while unconscious until this day. This sketch visualizes the “dream” I had while passed out, where a ghostly-pale figure with a red umbrella silently reached out to me. I was a little spooked by it after waking, so I painted the scene to make sense of it.

Self-Portrait In Prussian, (Blank Slate), August 2024

Oil on primed canvas paper, 11 x 14 in.

Made in 60 minutes, I challenged myself to sketch through the view of a reflective CD, which partially obscured my view and distorted color. Because my previous self-portraits felt staged and rather dramatic, I wanted to work quickly from life and portray a realistic snapshot of how I felt while working alone in my studio. I used a warm, muted Prussian blue hue to promote quick work and to capture the neutrality and refreshment of going into my third year at Yale.

A self-portrait in Prussian blue
Painting of my roommates

Photobomber, July 2024

Oil on raw canvas, 72 x 36 in.

Made while studying abroad, this snapshot of my suitemates conversates authenticity and playfulness among friends with social anxiety and the feeling of being “out-of-place.”

Comfort Zone, September 2024

Oil on primed Masonite, 18 x 24 in.

This piece was painted plein air outside my bedroom window in Benjamin Franklin College. As a homebody, I tend to irrationally fear that others are judging me for frequently staying in. To address this insecurity, I wanted to paint a view of my room from an outside-in perspective and put myself in the shoes of a passerby. This outside-in process helped me connect with new people and realize my window is just another dorm room with the lights on. My irrational anxieties about being judged dissipated, and rather than beating myself up for staying in when I want, I can now enjoy my room as a comfort zone.

A painting of my bedroom window
A painting of a lightbulb garland in a tree

Electric Shock Thera-Tree, September 2024

Oil on primed art paper, 9 x 12 in.

This tree at the Yale Farm caught my eye because its lightbulb garland emulates the natural form of its branches, giving it an equally serene and electric presence. These opposite complementary energies produce a contrasting yet codependent relationship.

Broken Window, October 2024

Oil on primed cardboard, 20 x 14 in.

This closer view of the abandoned factory expresses its unsettling presence through a foreboding monochromatic Prussian palette. I chose this hue to contrast my earlier Self-Portrait in Prussian, which feels much warmer than the cold, dusty feeling of this piece. It is painted on retrieved cardboard.

A painting of a broken window
A painting of my paternal line's family heirlooms

Inheritance, November 2024

Oil on stretched canvas, 24 x 24 in.

Historically, the vanitas genre of painting questions time, materiality, and mortality. Made after my Nonno’s sudden cancer diagnosis and passing, this vanitas painting honors his memory through the physical objects I inherited from him and my Nonna. They celebrate the cross-generational endurance of my paternal line and my grandparents’ emigration from Italy during WWII.

Factory, October 2024

Oil on primed Bristol paper, 11 x 14 in.

This painting of an abandoned New Haven factory applies an expressionist style to an industrial space. I wanted to capture the eerie emotionality of the decayed building through the use of distorted, mentally-salient hues and an imposing, upwardly-oriented composition.

A painting of an abandoned factory
A still life of my desk mirror

Vanity, November 2024

Oil on primed Bristol paper, 11 x 14 in.

This view of my tabletop vanity comments on my tendency to use my body as a reference for portraits. Painting from life is a crucial part of my process, yet I often criticize myself for seeming overly self-absorbed when referring to myself for figuration. This painting was made in acknowledgment of this insecurity, but with the hope that I can learn to feel more comfortable with self-depiction.

Cat Nap, December 2024

Oil on canvas, 18 x 24 in.

Me and my recently-adopted cat, Ozlo! A play on the “Madonna and Child” trope, this joint portrait celebrates the support he provides me despite living 2,000 miles away. Given how much joy he brings me, I can only hope he feels just as much from me.

A painting of me and my cat, Ozlo

Exhibition Booklet

To get a more comprehensive view of the gallery, be sure to download my gallery guide using the link below! It contains more information about the show, the exhibition description, my artist’s statement, and my future initiatives. Check it out!

Wrapping Up

Thank you so much for viewing my online gallery! I hope you enjoyed learning more about my story and art. Putting on my own show taught me a ton about planning, self-management, and direction, so I am happy to finally be able to share my journey with you all here. Make sure to stay tuned for my future shows, and in the meantime, keep being awesome! 🙂

Me at the gallery!
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