Rebecca Tesha Arnoldi
Ecological odes explore the life and essence of natural forms and of my body.

I mark where my body connects with the ground. I feel the peace of stillness. I explore the life around me (sumac berries, an ocean shore, marsh grasses) in connection to my self.

I use what I find or what is left behind: burnt wood, old cloth, onion skins, iron ore, soil, and thread left by my grandmother. Life and love are in the materials.

The images are messy, open and free. There is symmetry and a focus on the core that echoes human anatomy. Spontaneous occurrences and transformation are also part of the process and the pieces. The art is full of life and love.

Hannah Bureau
My paintings are surreal landscapes inhabited by shapes and objects, both abstract and recognizable, that I cull from my memory. I think of my paintings as autobiographical accumulations of experiences and nostalgia.

I am interested in creating an imaginary space where forms and the landscape can interact with each other and become familiar beings. In my painted world I want things to intersect, cluster together, overlap, pile-up, and touch each other.

Wylie Sofia Garcia
Some times I feel as though I am stitching a map of my inner psyche where each color of thread signifies a different direction of thought; always thinking of more than one thing at once, layers of thoughts overlapping, intersecting and breaking away into tangents of a larger idea. These thoughts are awkward, hard to pin down and difficult to put into words. I feel like I am creating figural structures out of outlandish almost garish fabrics to accentuate an overwhelming and sometimes constricting sense of space. I think of my art as awkward topographic structures and threaded seismographs that illustrate my human experience.

Katie Jurkiewicz
I like to draw. It's pretty much as simple as that. All the work before you begins in a sketchbook, usually with a pen (though I'm flexible on that point). It's typically in a Moleskine sketchbook, the kind with an elastic closure that fits nicely in your pocket.

Then at a future time, perhaps weeks or even years after the original drawings are made, I make copies. On a copier. at Kinkos. Sometimes, I redraw the original sketch. The purpose of this step is of course to reproduce the work but also to manipulate the original drawing. Make it 200% bigger, 35% smaller, grayed out, dark and bold. Then I mix up all these many pieces to make a new picture. I boil water and make tea, Constant Comment or sometimes Red Zinger, depending. I use the tea, along with inks, coffee, graphite and gesso to go into the new picture and redraw, apply washes of color, and further manipulate my own imagery.

So just what is the subject you may be asking? I don't really know. I draw flowers. I draw places around town. I like drawing from life, but not drawing people. I mostly draw places that I travel to. Because I really like traveling. A lot. More than drawing even. So occasions where I can travel and draw (and maybe mix in gelato) make me a super happy camper. I enjoy drawing impermanent things; it's a way of capturing them, cementing them in your mind, experiencing them fully. So there's that too. I also take a lot of satisfaction in creating fantasy landscapes that are in fact composites of real places.

Kate Ledogar
Kate Ledogar, in her current paintings, sends her dog into geological time, into a world without humans. Her painted dog encounters beauty, degradation, loneliness, loss and equanimity in its travels.

Ledogar's paintings are inspired by Alan Weisman's book "The World Without Us", which envisions what will happen to our world if and when humans are no longer here.

Adam Scott Miller
website
My images are artifacts derived from exploring the relationships between personal experience and concepts that I consider to be significantly relevant. Making images is my tool for discovery, and a by-product of the experience of my consciousness. This creative work is how I process and integrate my perceptions of the world into new ways of seeing and insights into living.

Nancy Winship Milliken
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I am deeply influenced by New England-camping in the deep fog banks on the coast of Maine, raising sheep on a pastoral hillside in Massachusetts, hiking the Green Mountains in Vermont, or raising honeybees in my childhood fields of Connecticut. This is evident in the textures and colors of my paintings, photographs, sculpture and installations. My materials- honey, wax, wool, viscera- come from the farms that surround me and are chosen not only for their aesthetic qualities but also their low impact on the environment.

Louis Theodore Ollier
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The world is, and we are designed to analyze it in ways that baffle the most advanced digital computational systems we can devise. Blur it, average it, dice it, compress it, and the mind still gleans some sort of information from the inputs it is provided. This talent goes beyond the simple drives of eat, sleep, sex; it allows us to devise our own worlds, our own scales and our own representations.

I want the viewer to engage that process, revel in that process: this simple animal can take its primate hands and draw an alphabet, a map, or a blueprint. It can create a pot, a house, or a hydroelectric dam. Is data cold, hard, concrete? Of course it is, as are all raw materials. No one looks at the Pieta and complains of the inhumanity of the stone. No one gazes at a Rembrandt and shudders at the slickness of the glazing. But where did these things come from? From the data within, and the human desire to engage it.

Sal Strom
website
Sal Strom is a multimedia artist that will show one of her social-political videos. She uses snippets of random audio-visual sources, layered with her own art. Strom's 5 minute experimental piece "Candy-Dates" starts off with the optimistic life of candy and romance that rapidly swirl into toilet tapping, turkey talking, shoe tossing, clothes spending, poop scooping and ending optimistically on a dark and bright future.

Sage Tucker-Ketcham
website
My art is not about anything happy. It is not beautiful. It is not a cartoon. It is documentation of: a poor child, a "new kid", a woman, a nomad, a smoker, a painter. It is fragments of memory and personal relationships. It makes sense to me. It helps me understand people. It is how I process emotional situations. It is not therapy but process. When I hear something awful has happened, or am angry with someone, or sad about life, that is when my paintings become real. It is a narration of abstraction in life, in beliefs and in relationships. First I will discuss my life history that led me to become an artist, then my painting process and how it evolved during my three years in graduate school and finally the major artistic influences which have shaped my work.

Julius Wasserstein
I present the viewer with a narrative of death and violence. Palette knives and a variety of sharp edged instruments then cut a shaped narrative into and from the paint. This action occurs within merged arena of: circus, prison, courtroom, or city. My paintings reveal the aggressive brutality that is the primitive and modern human condition.

Joyce Zavorskas
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My muse is shifting sand and clay, slipping and sliding, enduring then uncertain. Random patterns and rhythms appear and disappear, earth without embellishment, elusive and uncertain. Cliffs, after storms, are scoured and blasted battlefields, canvases with nature's wrath and fury etched on their facades. Restless and uprooted fragments of organic matter, like discarded trash, litter their slopes. Bearing witness to a changing world, the cliffs endure, our silent ocean sentinels. Crusted layers of pigment on canvas or luminous ink on gritted plates relate to layers of land observed over time. Revisiting landscape close to home builds familiarity and personal connection, and that understanding reveals aspects of my identity in the world and my place within it.