"Sylphs"
An experiential intuitive art project.
How do I explain myself? Here goes…
Three years ago, I was laid off from my job in tech. I had spent the 5 years prior learning, growing, and excelling in an industry that I never intended to be in in the first place. No matter. The layoff stung. It threw me into an emotional crisis of sorts and the light in that chaos became painting. I started with blobs of color on a canvas because I had no artistic background to speak of. I just followed the feeling. Over the years since, I’ve developed some skills in figure drawing, portraits, florals, and landscapes.
While completely in love with art and the creative process, I still wasn’t feeling fulfilled. Like, the paintings weren’t actually showing the world who I am. I realized recently one medium just doesn’t suffice. I need more. I need layers. I need to tell a story not just visually, but literally. I need to write and/or speak a story. So, this brings me to my first intuitive experiential project. This project → “Sylphs.”
Druid by faith, it’s typical practice for me to go outside and greet the elements every morning. The element of air seems to be the most responsive to me so I started this painting outside, speaking to the air (and may or may not have included some singing which I’m sure my neighbors thoroughly enjoyed). Sylphs are spirits which represent the element of air, hence the title of the project.
There are three components for this project.
Mixed media painting - colors, brushstrokes, and tools all selected intuitively.
Written story - the story is based on a hallucinatory experience I had after losing consciousness from an illness as a teenager.
Collaged song - using the loops from Soundtrap’s library, I collaged together a song that serves as the vehicle to transport the experiencer through the journey.
Please listen to the music while viewing the painting. The story is spoken via the song but I am also adding the transcript below.
The final painting with a hand painted frame:
To get a better look at the details: (sorry for the dog noises in the background :D)
Collaged song:
Story transcript:
The sylphs told me I’m too serious.
And it’s a real damn shame.
I started to feel sad.
And the wind picked up and said “yellow.”
Then orange erupted. Then pink pushed in.
When I was a teenager, I experienced a medical event which threw me into unconsciousness.
I remember knowing it was coming.
That light-headed feeling caused by my blood pressure dropping.
Black orbs emerging from the edges of my vision,
pulling me into darkness as my mother and best friend’s faces stared over me helplessly.
Everything went black.
Then, like a POP, I was pushed out the other side.
Falling from the sky.
Not our sky, but the brilliant, technicolor sky of another world.
The world I was falling toward vivid with oranges, greens, yellows, blues all neon.
I saw cartoon animals looking up in anticipation of my arrival.
Eyes large and dewy with worry.
But each gathered to greet me.
I reached my hand down.
An outstretched pleading to help me land safely on the pillowy grass of their cartoon town.
A monkey reached its own hand toward me in reciprocity.
Then, POP, I see my mother.
Foggy and distant but drawing nearer as my vision cleared.
I felt myself pulled to a seated position.
I looked around the dingy kitchen and thought “Colors are so dull here.”
This has been the most enjoyable, moving process yet on my creative journey. While creating the visual piece, I didn’t expect it to drudge up old memories of that wacky, mad hatter hallucination (if it was one) but I’m so glad it did. I hope you enjoy this too.
Sylphs lands with the kind of immediate sensory impact that curators and collectors often describe—sometimes too casually—as “arresting,” but here the term actually earns its keep. The palette doesn’t just harmonize; it performs. Oranges pulse with a kinetic warmth while the purples and greens hold space in a way that feels intentional rather than recessive, creating a tension that feels alive rather than resolved. The textures amplify this dialogue, refusing flatness and instead insisting on material presence, a reminder that in an era increasingly dominated by digital polish, tactility still carries emotional authority.
What’s striking is how quickly the work establishes a psychological environment. It doesn’t merely depict a place; it constructs one. A place to go and recharge. I am weightlessly dancing amongst the orange, resting in the purple circular forms, provided by a compositional intelligence that understands how viewers move through a painting. This isn’t accidental immersion; it’s meant to be. The bottom-right entity functions almost like an anchor point, a quiet disruption in an otherwise atmospheric field, with whom I could visit and converse with. That balance—between abstraction and suggestion—is something the contemporary market often rewards, but rarely sees executed with this level of restraint. All of this upon the initial viewing.
Then I read about the artist and listened to the accompanying song. These elements deepened my engagement. Given my initial visceral response, the added materials don’t compensate; they expand. That distinction matters, especially in a climate where conceptual framing can sometimes overshadow visual strength.
There’s also an undercurrent here of relational aesthetics—not in the formal sense of participatory art, but in the emotional transaction between myself as a viewer and object (Sylphs). The sense of connectedness I have with Sylphs is the definition of experiential depth. The piece doesn’t feel manufactured. The connection emerges organically, suggesting the artist isn’t simply following industry trends but tapping into something more intuitive and less commodified.
Ultimately, Sylphs succeeds because it operates on multiple registers without diluting any of them. It offers immediate aesthetic pleasure, sustained emotional resonance, and a conceptual framework that rewards curiosity rather than demanding it. That’s a difficult balance to strike, and it’s what elevates the work beyond trend into something that lingers.