 Before I touch a painting with color, I pick up a paint roller and write the intentions across the raw canvas.
For example: “Let’s be friends. I love you.”  I’m deeply grateful for the opportunity to work with our veterans, made possible by the Utah Museum of Fine Arts and Laura Wilson.
This experience continues to be profound. These men are so close to the end of life. Every visit feels like it could be the last, which makes everything they say carry extra weight. I don’t know if they consciously feel how near they are to death. Maybe none of us truly do, no matter our age. But I feel it when I’m with them — and that awareness makes every story, every small moment, feel sacred. Most of them had never painted before, yet they show up each week willing to try something new. That courage is incredibly inspiring. Today, one resident named Joe stopped me in my tracks. For seven weeks we’ve been using Utah landscapes as inspiration, but Joe keeps turning every painting into the desert of his Arizona home. Painting home. A quiet yearning for home. It choked me up. I almost cried right there in the studio.  Eyes closed again!
Fresh work delivered to Gallery MAR. https://www.gallerymar.com/artists/samantha-da-silva Some things never change.  “Pause. Breathe. Ask the canvas: What wants to be expressed today?
Then listen. The first mark is rarely the answer—it’s the question. Let the paint answer back.” Fearless Artistry: A Journey from Doubt to Creative Liberation  One of the most common questions I hear in workshops is how to deal with the inner critic. This passage from my book Fearless Artistry: A Journey from Doubt to Creative Liberation is the response I give most often.
 In my studio, painting is an alchemical act.
This canvas was bound with ropes and set on fire. When the flames finally died and the ropes were cut away, a serene blue center remained — quiet, untouched, radiant. A halo of gold now surrounds it, while the edges still bear the scorched holes left by the fire. Life can bind us. Life can burn us. Yet the choice is always ours: to protect and cultivate a calm center amid the heat. I Feel Safe Here Mixed media on canvas, 36” x 60”  In the studio, visor down, heart open.
“The canvas does not judge. It simply receives. Every mark is allowed. Every mistake is information. Fear wants you to wait until you’re ready. Hope says: start now, exactly as you are.” This is from my book Fearless Artistry. You can order it now on Amazon (Kindle or paperback). What’s one thing you’ve been waiting to create “until you’re ready”? #FearlessArtistry #StudioVibes #CreateWithoutFear #AbstractArtist #UtahArtist  Textural moons infused with a sense of place, quietly watching over the Salt Lake City skyline.
One moon watches over all of us. In the studio, I build these layered surfaces slowly — pressing, carving, and letting the materials speak. Each moon feels like a quiet companion, a reflection of my own inner tides and the cycles I’ve moved through. They remind me that even in flux, something steady and luminous is always present.  Week 4 with our veterans, made possible by the Utah Museum of Fine Arts.
A sunset over the Great Salt Lake. Every week I’m deeply moved by the creativity, courage, and goodwill of this community. Special thanks to Laura Sharp Wilson for making this possible, and for Evey M. for volunteering your time. |
