Ghost

Makaziini Gallery

Finland in Fall, prescription
2008
Installation done as Artist in Residence at Fiskars Ruuki

Read the rest of this entry »

Linear Interference

Painted Bride Art Center

Philadelphia PA, web
2006
Installation

Read the rest of this entry »

Fuel Collection Philadelphia

Cesta

Read the rest of this entry »

Kentler

The work is a way to keep time, here to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, images from dreams, flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of artmaking itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome, awful, and magical like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

This most recent body of work concerns itself with natural forms, and particularly the lives and appearance of lichen.  I relate the lives of these creatures to our own cosmopolitan existence of interdependence within the human organism. I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made are  in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage.    The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience, to describe this I like the metaphor of a toaster plugged into a high-voltage power line. I also travel a lot, drawing constantly, collecting new images in sketchbooks and on drafting film and vellum. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture that they exist in, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and cast objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri  ?
The work is a way to keep time, here to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, images from dreams, flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of artmaking itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome, awful, and magical like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

This most recent body of work concerns itself with natural forms, and particularly the lives and appearance of lichen.  I relate the lives of these creatures to our own cosmopolitan existence of interdependence within the human organism. I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made are  in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage.    The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience, to describe this I like the metaphor of a toaster plugged into a high-voltage power line. I also travel a lot, drawing constantly, collecting new images in sketchbooks and on drafting film and vellum. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture that they exist in, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and cast objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri  ?
 

The work is a way to keep time, to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, order images from dreams, flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of art-making itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that both disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome,  but sometimes repulsive or magical,  like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage. The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience. Drawing for me is about rhythms, repetitions that build a narrative, the forms lately have spun into abstractions based on emotions, patterns, movement  and direct response based on instinct. These have been presented as room drawings, where the viewer experiences the work by walking through it. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture in which they exist, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri 
The work is a way to keep time, here to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, images from dreams, flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of artmaking itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome, awful, and magical like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

This most recent body of work concerns itself with natural forms, and particularly the lives and appearance of lichen.  I relate the lives of these creatures to our own cosmopolitan existence of interdependence within the human organism. I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made are  in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage.    The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience, to describe this I like the metaphor of a toaster plugged into a high-voltage power line. I also travel a lot, drawing constantly, collecting new images in sketchbooks and on drafting film and vellum. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture that they exist in, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and cast objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri  ?
 

The work is a way to keep time, to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, order images from dreams, flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of art-making itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that both disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome,  but sometimes repulsive or magical,  like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage. The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience. Drawing for me is about rhythms, repetitions that build a narrative, the forms lately have spun into abstractions based on emotions, patterns, movement  and direct response based on instinct. These have been presented as room drawings, where the viewer experiences the work by walking through it. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture in which they exist, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri 
CV Paul Santoleri

The work is a way to keep time, and
to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, prostate
images from dreams, cure flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of artmaking itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome, awful, and magical like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

This most recent body of work concerns itself with natural forms, and particularly the lives and appearance of lichen. I relate the lives of these creatures to our own cosmopolitan existence of interdependence within the human organism. I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made are  in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage. The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience, to describe this I like the metaphor of a toaster plugged into a high-voltage power line. I also travel a lot, drawing constantly, collecting new images in sketchbooks and on drafting film and vellum. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture that they exist in, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and cast objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri  ?
The work is a way to keep time, here to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, images from dreams, flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of artmaking itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome, awful, and magical like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

This most recent body of work concerns itself with natural forms, and particularly the lives and appearance of lichen.  I relate the lives of these creatures to our own cosmopolitan existence of interdependence within the human organism. I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made are  in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage.    The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience, to describe this I like the metaphor of a toaster plugged into a high-voltage power line. I also travel a lot, drawing constantly, collecting new images in sketchbooks and on drafting film and vellum. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture that they exist in, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and cast objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri  ?
 

The work is a way to keep time, to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, order images from dreams, flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of art-making itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that both disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome,  but sometimes repulsive or magical,  like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage. The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience. Drawing for me is about rhythms, repetitions that build a narrative, the forms lately have spun into abstractions based on emotions, patterns, movement  and direct response based on instinct. These have been presented as room drawings, where the viewer experiences the work by walking through it. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture in which they exist, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri 
CV Paul Santoleri

The work is a way to keep time, and
to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, prostate
images from dreams, cure flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of artmaking itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome, awful, and magical like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

This most recent body of work concerns itself with natural forms, and particularly the lives and appearance of lichen. I relate the lives of these creatures to our own cosmopolitan existence of interdependence within the human organism. I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made are  in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage. The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience, to describe this I like the metaphor of a toaster plugged into a high-voltage power line. I also travel a lot, drawing constantly, collecting new images in sketchbooks and on drafting film and vellum. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture that they exist in, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and cast objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri  ?
The work is a way to keep time, price
to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, images from dreams, flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of artmaking itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome, awful, and magical like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

This most recent body of work concerns itself with natural forms, and particularly the lives and appearance of lichen.  I relate the lives of these creatures to our own cosmopolitan existence of interdependence within the human organism. I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made are  in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage.    The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience, to describe this I like the metaphor of a toaster plugged into a high-voltage power line. I also travel a lot, drawing constantly, collecting new images in sketchbooks and on drafting film and vellum. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture that they exist in, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and cast objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri  ?
The work is a way to keep time, here to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, images from dreams, flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of artmaking itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome, awful, and magical like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

This most recent body of work concerns itself with natural forms, and particularly the lives and appearance of lichen.  I relate the lives of these creatures to our own cosmopolitan existence of interdependence within the human organism. I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made are  in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage.    The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience, to describe this I like the metaphor of a toaster plugged into a high-voltage power line. I also travel a lot, drawing constantly, collecting new images in sketchbooks and on drafting film and vellum. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture that they exist in, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and cast objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri  ?
 

The work is a way to keep time, to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, order images from dreams, flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of art-making itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that both disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome,  but sometimes repulsive or magical,  like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage. The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience. Drawing for me is about rhythms, repetitions that build a narrative, the forms lately have spun into abstractions based on emotions, patterns, movement  and direct response based on instinct. These have been presented as room drawings, where the viewer experiences the work by walking through it. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture in which they exist, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri 
CV Paul Santoleri

The work is a way to keep time, and
to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, prostate
images from dreams, cure flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of artmaking itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome, awful, and magical like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

This most recent body of work concerns itself with natural forms, and particularly the lives and appearance of lichen. I relate the lives of these creatures to our own cosmopolitan existence of interdependence within the human organism. I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made are  in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage. The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience, to describe this I like the metaphor of a toaster plugged into a high-voltage power line. I also travel a lot, drawing constantly, collecting new images in sketchbooks and on drafting film and vellum. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture that they exist in, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and cast objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri  ?
The work is a way to keep time, price
to maintain an awareness of my own relationship to my inner and outer world. I incorporate objects that I collect, images from dreams, flowers blooming and decaying in my backyard, stories and postindustrial waste, and anything else that slips out of my brush and through my line. The images are loosely in the tradition of landscape, and often mountainous and dense. I wish the works to feel and be organic, to have no beginning and no end, to reflect a repetitive action, like the act of artmaking itself. I often reflect on the beauty in decay in my drawings, and the landscape gives way to a deeper storyline that disturbs and intrigues me. The work inevitably reflects my own views of the planet’s demise, and sometimes I use the flower as a metaphor for the life and death cycle of the natural world. But because I don’t see a distinction between people and nature, I find that the cycle itself is awesome, awful, and magical like the potential nature of artwork itself. I travel often to challenge my senses to open up and breathe freely.

This most recent body of work concerns itself with natural forms, and particularly the lives and appearance of lichen.  I relate the lives of these creatures to our own cosmopolitan existence of interdependence within the human organism. I often draw in response to the surface, and my surroundings, borrowing lines and images from my environs in an effort to enable the work to create itself, with me as the hand and mind through which it passes. Work is made are  in layers, and I will frequently use a found object as my surface for a painting, drawing, fresco, or assemblage.    The density that I favor reflects an overloaded experience, to describe this I like the metaphor of a toaster plugged into a high-voltage power line. I also travel a lot, drawing constantly, collecting new images in sketchbooks and on drafting film and vellum. Consequently the pieces become part of the architecture that they exist in, like room sculptures they grow out of the walls using line and cast objects to carry their weight.

Paul Santoleri  ?
Kentler 1The installation is a vignette from my studio, about it
a portion of my world. Super-sized drawings are juxtaposed with translucent and silk-screened layers that conjoin to make a room full of various narratives created as I’m making the piece. I draw my images from my resources of photographs; I travel a lot and photograph the landscape and tiny fragments of nature, no rx for I’m forever fascinated with the microcosm, no rx
but my drawings are often large to make me feel on a level with the minutiae.  I’m also inspired by the time I spend gardening in my tiny backyard, a place filled with diversity, bursting with snails and vines and flowers, thorny, harmful, beautiful and nourishing.. Read the rest of this entry »