5′ x 4′ x 8″
Not For Sale
Samantha M. Eckert was born in Glen Cove, NY and raised in Brownsville, VT. She lived in New Mexico for many years and returned to Vermont in 2012. Eckert earned her MFA in Visual Art in 2015 from Vermont College of Fine Arts, Montpelier, VT; a bachelor’s from Vermont College of Norwich University, Montpelier, VT; and a Certificate in Museum Studies from the Institute of American Indian Arts, Santa Fe, NM. She has attended several artist residencies including, Anderson Ranch Art Center, Snowmass, CO; Vermont Studio Center, Johnson, VT; La Macina di San Cresci, Greve, Chianti, Italy; and was a two-time artist in residence at The Studios at MASS MoCA, North Adams, MA. Eckert has exhibited in MA, NH, NM, VT, and Italy. She is a Vermont-based emerging artist.
My practice continues to be inspired by objects made by my mother and grandmother.
My work explores memory myth, ancestry, loss, and longing, weaving between personal and political themes. My lexicon is rooted in labor, multiples, and winky-wink-bling. Through my ongoing fascination with wonder and the mystical found in nature, narratives emerge and reflect across time— transcendent or transitory glimpses that feel as though teetering between the real and abstract.
The materials are humble; popsicle sticks, yarn, metal mesh used in construction, pinecones, Play-Doh, and plaster. Materials hold my attention; I find beauty and poetry in their simplicity. And, I never underestimate the power of glitter.
The plasticky bright colors of the process paintings reference toys, specifically Playschool figures and Lego pieces. Process painting is about interaction with the medium and reacting viscerally. And, it’s about letting go and losing control and getting lost. I am interested in shape, surface, and texture. In my mind, contemporary paintings are transformed into sculptural objects.
The scorched popsicle stick towers are intended to reference bones. Whether that be bones of ancestors or bones of architecture, I waver. The cast shadow drawings are ephemeral, suggesting what once was, as a day slipping into dusk, or a memory.