Advisor: Jason Paradis + Lorena Salcedo-Watson

House of Spirits

2nd Floor Staller Center for the Arts
May 12 – 24, 2025

 “Life begets life, by killing and eating itself.” – Joseph Campbell. 

House Of Spirits explores how art materials dictate my process and why. That alone teaches me a lot about who I am as an artist, creatively and spiritually. Choosing acrylics, collage and a variety of mixed media for my projects creates a space where I am obliged to surrender to my intuition, through the conflict created within the choices. 

At times, the process is an argument between me and the medium. Surrendering control produces emotions, where I am finding resolution through this conflict and my instincts. The process appears to unfold in a particular way with different driving motivations compared to other art materials I have used. Here, I don’t particularly need to commit to a subject or control what’s going on. A focal point can help me encourage the direction I am meant to go. I have more creative freedom with this mixed media process and avoiding the ensnarement of perfection. Exploring how the colors, shadows and shapes contrast or harmonize against each other navigates my journey. The absence of a focal point affords the liberty for interesting abstractions, although I do enjoy painting direct portraits and figures, as well. I like capturing an expression or mood that can jump off the canvas and arrest someone. 

With regard to my motivation on a subject matter, I have often spoken about the “in between.” The place where the boundary is fuzzy. Where creativity is born, where it dies, and where it is recycled. This cycle feels familiar, because it is recognized within our psychic eye. It’s the place where all humans relate, speaking more so to our heart, and less so to our intellect. Though something may have seemingly died, in the cycle of nature, it is actually revived, recycled and forever alive. It is the engine for what creates life itself. 

I have reflected on the word, “conceive” as representing an idea being born, as well as a human being born. When an idea first comes to us, we recognize it as if it has always been there, almost returning home to us, even if the idea is seemingly new. The same with a newborn child. They feel familiar to us, like we know them already, even though we just met them. It is like we are remembering something. But how can we remember something when it appears to be brand new? Because it is reinforcing that which we already know. A resonance within our heart and spirit, which is “familiar,” when in truth, it is ancient. It is the cycle. Life, Death, Life. 

I have always been driven by spiritual motivations. My father studied to be a Jesuit as a young man. Coming from Irish parents, it was often the custom to send one child away and cross your fingers in the hopes that they would take up the cross. He didn’t make that particular choice, but it set him on a lifetime path of seeking, which included all religions and philosophies. In addition, he was a “recovering” person, (from when I was just two years old), which also inspired spiritual seeking. This directly influenced me. My father had sympathy for many walks of life. He, himself, went to Pratt Institute as a young man. He was a creative thinker. He was an influential example of what it means to be an authentic person without apologies. He wore floral shirts when other men didn’t, he hugged his friends, and sported a huge cowboy hat in places where cowboy hats were not. He was tall, handsome and charismatic. In spite of these magnetic qualities, he was humble. My father passed away from cancer at the young age of 54 (I was 16). It was tragic for me and left a sense of loss that influenced everything I did afterward. The experience inspired my contemplation on life and death.  He had been a seeker, and I have that natural tendency as well. The many views of the world inspire me. I notice that many religions address the human experience of life and death. These themes are common denominators of the human condition. Life is a series of letting go, whether it be of people, places or things. My struggle has been to actually trust the experience of holding on, and that there are safe places for me to do so. By holding on, we can take root, and open up, like a flower. That is why I have returned to my art. I started to trust it may be the one thing where I can place my devotions. 

Joseph Campbell interested me with his references on archetypes and myths. Archetypes are symbols that resonate with all humans because we all experience these conditions. He spoke of the Hero’s Journey. About being called to adventure, leaving what we know to be familiar, embarking on a journey into the unknown, and returning as a changed person. I experienced this when I left New York for Alaska, by myself, at the age of 23. Red Riding Hood and Wolf taps into this idea. She encounters a wolf, and the wolf ultimately becomes her “familiar,” her friend. This was not an easy process. The paw prints symbolize her many paths. Some of them are where Red Riding Hood loses her way, and never returns to where she may have intended to go, some prints return to her, indicating that she is where home is. The Cicadas symbolize death and rebirth. The braided sweetgrass symbolizes peace, healing, and twisted puzzles. Some of these twists have resolved, some of them never resolve, but there is a peace in allowing them to be left unanswered. The wolf symbolizes terror and the Dark Night of the Soul, (a reference to a poem written by the mystic St. John of the Cross). It is a passage of purification through a crisis of identity. Here, Red Riding Hood stares that terror in the face (the terror is her wild self). The wolf challenges Red Riding Hood. He did try to eat her. To an extent, he did eat her. In the end, she willingly surrendered to being swallowed by the wolf. Red Riding Hood now walks side by side with terror and peace within as a union. Life and death walk hand in hand. There is an alchemy within this, where Red Riding Hood becomes the wolf. The eyes looking out from Red Riding Hood, are the same eyes as the Wolf, and they are drawn that way. Red Riding Hood is eaten by the wolf, but, now, she and the wolf are the same. 

Red Riding Hood and Wolf, 2025, 24 x 20 Watercolor, colored pencil, ink pen, mixed media

Photo credit: Nicholas Castellano

The same alchemic transformation motivated my paintings of Kali. Kali has a fire and a rag, and yet, she is calm. “She laughs like madness herself” –(Medim.com folklore and myths), and yet she is gentle. In Hindu mythology she is nature. She is uncontrollable. She threatens the codes of this society. She lives on the fringe. She is pure energy. 

She represents the life, death, life cycle. I painted two versions of Kali. The first one is titled, Saffron Kali. I chose this name because of the dominant color. I added a butterfly. Butterflies represent transformation and death, as well as visits from our ancestors.  The snakes Kali harnesses symbolize power over time, transformation, death, kundalini energy and awakening. They are traditional symbols of Kali, representing the shedding of the old life for a new one. Time is often viewed as linear, but is it cyclical?  Often we grieve a time that has passed, a time we have to wait patiently for, to reveal a resolution or to reunite with a person, place or thing that has been absent. Time feels long, but it is not so long. As well, when someone dies, we feel a sense of waiting for them to return and a grief that they never will. But what do we know from our limited experience as humans? Within the cycles of nature, we can find peace in the belief that all things return and are renewed.

Saffron Kali, 2025, 20 x 16, Acrylic, mixed media collage

The second painting of Kali is,  “Kali, the Dark Mother.” Kali represents the mother who battles the demons who threaten the vulnerable. She symbolizes the feminine rage of mother earth, who annihilates these demons with fury. It’s the same way a mother bear can conquer a large male grizzly when her babies are threatened. It’s a primal force to defend creation. At the top of Dark Mother I have the word, “Woke.” I wasn’t exactly aware that I had written that, at the time. Afterward, I realized it was exactly right for what Kali represents. Upon writing the word, I realized, Kali is very AWAKE.  Kali is the embodiment of Woke. She is very awake with regard to social justice, and defending those who can not defend themselves. 

Kali, the Dark Mother, 2025, 36 x 24, acrylic on canvas

Photo credit: Nicholas Castellano

I am often interested in subjects of people who have made a mark on the world, or an impression on me. Sometimes it is a historical artist I have discovered. This could be a poet, a musician, an activist, a scientist, or a creative movement in time. It could also be a style I find intriguing, or beautiful. I am often inspired to paint these authentic, creative trail blazers. 

To me these are kin. Art is a universal language. It has the power to transform, inspire, heal, comfort, anger, and breakthrough in ways other mediums cannot. Art cannot be contained. It is radical and often feared by those who aim to suppress it. They aim to suppress it because they know the power that art has over the human spirit. It can motivate rebellions, topple governments, and inspire the movement of millions. 

I was recently touched by the passing of David Lynch. He’s a brave example of an artist who has been a transformational trailblazer, who has broken the mold and paved the way for other artists. He saw Transcendental Meditation as fundamental to his creativity (davidlynchfoundation.org). He credited this meditation for his creativity, energy, and happiness. I believe it kept him focused on maintaining his authentic self. There’s a lot of personal power in being able to manage that. It is not an easy thing to do in a world full of opinions. This brings to mind an important quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson, “It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.” I first read this quote, as a young adult,  in Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Book of Essays, which had belonged to my dad, and carried it throughout my life. I was inspired by the concept of maintaining a sense of self, integrity, autonomy and independence, in spite of the opinions of the world. To me, these are the values worth acquiring and maintaining in life. 

Blue Velvet, 2025, 30 x 24, Acrylic on canvas

Lost in Vines and Roses was originally inspired by an image of Chagall and his wife, Bella. Chagall was an artist known for painting poetically, although he did not claim this. He rejoiced in color. His friend said when Chagall entered, the room lit up.  His wife, Bella, was his soul mate. It is interesting, because an observer at my reception related this image to Plato’s symposium, and the idea of soul mates. In the end, both these portraits are of myself as a subject (stand-in), because I did not have Chagall as a model. And though I was the model, I believe the original spirit of Chagall and his wife was conveyed. 

Lost in Vines & Roses, 2025, 48 x 26 Pastel on Paper

For a long while I have wanted to paint Oscar Romero.  I can not recall how he came into my consciousness. Romero was a priest in El Salvador who was gunned down at the altar while giving mass inside his church. He preached activism, justice, and liberation, particularly of, and to the poor. He died a martyr and a prophet, who inspired hope in the oppressed. The name, “Baptism by Fire,” was chosen, because in him sacrificing his own life, inspiration was born, and transformation occurred. It was the ultimate sacrifice, and he was quite aware this would likely happen to him. He openly criticized the right wing groups and violent militias, many of which were supported by the U.S. Romero spoke the truth, but the voice of truth is often considered a threat to sinister demons who seek to gobble it up for fuel to propel itself.

Baptism by Fire; Assassination of a Saint, Monsignor Oscar Romero of El Salvador, 2025, 36 x 24, Acrylic on canvas

Photo credit: Nicholas Castellano

Art is communal. An artistic voice is a unique voice, and yet, another artist recognizes it. It is like two flames, and the artistic flames light the world. We need these flames more than ever. We are the medicine people. The medicine men and women, the healers, the nurturers, the seers, the leaders, the groundbreakers, the guardians, the comforters, the warriors, the fighters, and the peacemakers. We embrace the broken, the lost, the bewildered. We inspire hope, inclusiveness, community, family and belief. We transform, we destruct, we construct, we defend. We create growth where things have died. We honor death, we honor loss, we grieve, we celebrate the wonder of all it means to be human. 

In the exhibition there are two paintings of angels bracketing a sculptural work of a cross. They are guarding a red cross that is dripped with golden bones. The bones represent the innocents that are lost in war, lost in abandonment, deported, neglected, forgotten. The Angels are guardians acknowledging that these lives had value, purpose and meaning. They are protecting those who pass through this life to the next. They embrace them, and create a safe space for them to heal, and be remembered. 

Installation view

Art is not just creating a painting; it is a way of being. Often our life experience is “art in action,” at least it has been that way for me. I made a point to return to school so that I could devote myself to painting. It felt like a crisis of conscience if I did not. During the time I was not painting, I was collecting experiences, and  expressing myself in other ways. 

Often I experience life as an oxymoron. Strong and weak, clear and fuzzy, dark and light, brave and fearful. As it turns, my art expresses much of this dichotomy. I operate on the blade of these two things. There is a sense of insecurity in that.  It could be construed as indecision, non-commitment, doubt, lack of clarity, and it may be all of these things. I have been hard on myself for this perspective and often misunderstood for the same reasons. 

As I get older, I am recognizing this may have been a conscious choice, and maybe even a brave one. It has enabled me to be open to dreams, people and experiences, and to the awareness of synchronicity, and to the “Hero’s Journey.” 

Certain rituals have grounded me and remained consistent. It’s a place to focus and call home. I believe in rituals and culture. These are the things connecting us, and they bring us a sense of connection for a reason. Humans connect to myths and stories, by way of our ancestors. It is our mission, as artists, to create and keep these stories alive. To create magic and purpose within our own world and experience.

This mixed media collage, titled There Can Be No Love Without Justice, includes images by the photographer Charles Freger, from his book Wilder Mann.  These figures are found in European rural societies. The Wildermen express rituals and celebrate the cycles of the seasons, of death, life and rebirth.They represent myths and stories often lost to our homogenized modern culture. The part of humans that is wild and within us all. The Wilderman is half man, half beast. Beauty in the Beast. If you look closely, you will see the title of this piece within the image. It is from a photo I took of a stained glass window inside the Saint Patrick’s Cathedral woman’s bathroom. 

Photo credit: Nicholas Castellano

I intuitively created this next piece, calling it, Deer Woman.  Originally, I intended to draw a Stag. I had the picture of a large male deer in my mind. Something majestic. Suddenly, I saw a woman with deer antlers. I felt like the Stag led me to the woman. Once I started the drawing, I discovered there is actually a legend of a Deer Woman. There are varying Native American stories that speak of a “Deer Woman,” called Nunnehi, which translates to mean, “the people who live anywhere.” The story describes a woman who was assaulted and left for dead in the woods. A fawn laid down beside her so that she would not die alone. There, she transformed into a deer and lived in the woods, as a spirit. Since her attackers went unpunished, the gods granted “Deer Woman” the power of justice. If a sinister person of character should cross her path, she would destroy them. She is known to be a traveler, who lives nowhere (Pioneerwomanmuseum.com). Also according to Wikipedia, “women who dream of her gain artistic powers if they make wise choices.” This image made me feel a sense of Alaska. I had lived there for twelve years. I still have a little piece of land there, and it is home in my heart, even though I am far away.  I felt a sense of home creating this piece, and some sadness in that. My muse for this was a photo of an Elder arctic native woman embracing a caribou. Often it’s assumed only male deer have antlers, but, with the caribou, the females have antlers as well. I had posted this image on social media and an acquaintance said, “Oh, that’s Elen of the Ways!” I had never heard of her. Elen of the Ways is an ancient Goddess of the Wild Hunt, she is a tracker, illuminating the way and the keeper of labyrinths. She protects the path, be they spiritual, physical or mental. She is considered one of the most ancient Goddesses in Britain today (downtheforestpath.com website). She was considered a sacred saint of travelers before Saint Christopher. She is the Guardian of the journey. 

Deer Woman,  2025, 30 x 20, Gold dust pigment, watercolor, acrylic, paint pens on paper

The subject matter also relates to attention. Our attention is our most valuable resource. The art of listening, the art of seeing, the art of being present. All of these help us to see the signs and magic that is there to reveal our purpose and meaning. When we focus on a subject we often can see nuanced details we previously missed. We can experience a depth below the surface we can witness when we take a moment to pause, observe and not speed by. 

Whenever I am exploring nature, I am always paying attention. The benefit of that is I get to see, hear, feel, and even meet new “beings,” meaning they are like relatives to me. I met this little blue crab on a bike ride in Florida last year. That same season, I was fortunate to spend time with a sea turtle. I was on the beach, by myself, about one in the morning. Like a ghost, I saw a turtle emerge from the ocean. For over an hour, I watched as a gigantic turtle slowly dug a hole, laying its eggs one by one. After laying its eggs, the turtle started turning in a circular motion sweeping its flippers and using them to bury the eggs, until it was facing toward the ocean again. At that point, it quickly started walking toward the sea, returning from where it came. I didn’t understand the attraction of others toward sea turtles, until I spent time with them, up close. I had the sense that they are a very ancient relative, who has an awareness of deeper and grander things than I could ever imagine. I felt very small, like I was very new to the universe, and the turtle was very, very old and wise. A few days later, while riding my bike, I met this little blue crab. He was chased out of his hole by the rain storms. Blue crabs are ancient as well. Fossils of blue crabs that are 1.5 million years old have been found by discoverers. I bring up these two creatures, because, in meeting them, I became aware of their ancient place and cycle in our world. They felt to me like wise, ancient ancestors, and I was the naïve younger sibling, who knew nothing.

Brother Blue Crab, 2025, 14 x 11, Acrylic, drawing, collage, mixed media on canvas

I have a little mountain cabin in the woods upstate. When visiting, I often hear coyotes and see them on the trail camera that I have in the woods nearby. It’s comforting to hear them, and know they are there. I was inspired to paint City Dogs in honor of them. When I painted this, someone mentioned it looked like graffiti. I pictured this coyote roaming around in New York City. There are coyotes roaming the graveyards there. From the dawn of modernization, they have been encroaching on our societies.  I like the idea that they are there. This painting reminds me of the wild things that often observe us from the edge of our manicured lives.

City Dog, 2024, 11 x 14 Acrylic mixed media on canvas

I really learned a lot through this project. It helped me navigate things I often can’t put my finger on, yet these same things motivate much of what I do, and are part of who I am. It cemented beliefs and values that my words can’t always express. Though my subjects appear to span a wide spectrum of ideas, I see them as connected. There is a thread running through everything that unites us all. Although, as humans we often complicate this thread, it is a simple one. I actually think the thread is love. 

This project and the writing of this thesis covered my tendency to explore these broad subjects that connect to one another. Through contemplating these ideas in a more focused way, I experienced some revelations in the process. The process revealed a sense of restraint within myself to connect more bravely with others in a more intimate way. There was a sense of fear that I felt myself walking through. 

The process of my House Of Spirits revealed that I should go forward more bravely. This project was cathartic for me in that it created a safe space for healing and transformation. This happened to be the underlying meaning behind the entire show, whether I was aware of it or not. Even if it originated in a cerebral way, it concluded in a personal breakthrough. I would like to thank my professors for providing this safe place for me, sometimes by just watching and allowing things to unfold however they would. Now, in its conclusion, the show should be called “broken open.” 

Special thanks to Nia Wallace and Yan Lin