This full moon painting ( a new one / Day 4/ final day) is about the power of facing our shadows and finding light within. The moon, both benevolent and powerful, calls us to reflect on our emotions and our ability to grow. "To love, we must first face our own darkness." — bell hooks.
What is an inter/trans-disciplinary artist? One who leaps from here to there and back again. One who can always see the big picture. One for whom the world is equally compelling and revolting, revealing and concealing. One who sees the personal and political, creative, social and environmental as often one, and for whom a single medium and point of view is never enough. Triada Samaras www.triadasamaras.com
Sunday, April 13, 2025
Friday, April 11, 2025
A New Pine Point Full Moon Painting
The full moon over water is a recurring theme in my work (see below)...
The full moon over water is a recurring theme in my work, embodying a return to our emotions during dark moments. I believe it is through facing our vulnerabilities and fears that we begin to find hope, and the full moon radiates that power. This full moon painting, smaller and more realistic, takes inspiration directly from a photograph I took of the moon above the water. The moon, now both benevolent and powerful, casts its light over the water, inviting us to reflect on our own internal light in the face of shadow.
The theme of shadows also brings to mind the words of bell hooks: "To love, we must first face our own darkness." The process of encountering our shadows and learning to integrate them allows us to stop projecting what we don't accept in ourselves onto others. The work of the full moon is to remind us of the light that still exists, even in our darkest times.
Postscript for astrology enthusiasts:
As Neptune has recently entered Aries, this powerful shift encourages us to tap into our deepest emotions, dreams, and intuition, and take inspired action. With Pisces energy still very much present, we are invited to confront and integrate the parts of ourselves that we might have been avoiding. These energies are reflected in my painting, as I explore the balance between emotion, shadow, and light. With Neptune and Saturn transiting close to my Ascendant at 29 degrees Pisces, conjunct Black Moon Lilith, I’m working to activate this potent energy within myself and share that journey through my art.
Triada Samaras 4/7/2025
Sunday, April 6, 2025
Guest Artist: Cheryl Kohler 2025
I am very pleased to include a guest artist and poet here. She does not want to say much as an introduction, but she does want me to write she's a sometimes sculptor and a lifelong aspiring poet when the mood strikes her. Below I feature one of her recent and moving poems along with two of her photographs that accompany the poem:
Thursday, April 3, 2025
Triada Samaras Painting / Poem Full Moon Standish / Luminous
Triada Samaras Painting / Poem : Full Moon Standish / Luminous
Since spending more time in Western Maine recently, I have become very inspired by the Eastern White Pine tree. It also happens to be the official state tree of Maine.
Meet the Eastern White Pine - New England Forestry Foundation New England Forestry Foundation
One tree in particular has inspired several of my artworks and a poem.
One of those artworks, a painting on wood panel, "Full Moon Standish" found a new home this past week to my great delight. Its new owner is a wonderful human being who also happens to be a close friend of mine, lucky for me.
I feature this artwork below together with a poem about the same tree that I wrote this past winter called Luminous. It strikes me that I could go on making artworks indefinitely about this tree.
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Full Moon Standish Watercolor on Panel 16 x 20 inches Triada Samaras 2023 |
Luminous
The sun rises behind
a towering pine—
my home, my strength, my goddess,
my courage to rise above the rest.
But I wonder—
will she fall?
And when?
The sun ignites her body,
highlights her spine, her limbs,
the wind pressing against her back,
her trunk dissolving
into empty blue space.
I sketched her once,
sitting on my summer deck,
her shadow stretching long
against the bones of my house.
Charcoal dust on my fingertips,
I traced her lines,
her lips,
pressed them onto an empty white page.
"She can fall like snowflakes,"
she seems to say,
"softly upon your page."
Her towering height resists capture,
yet I refuse to shrink her.
I need to see her as she is,
to learn her wisdom.
There is so much in me that is fragile,
so much I must outgrow.
And still, I wonder—
will she fall?
And when?
I think she will tell me.
But honestly,
I think she already did.
c. Triada Samaras 2025