Breath Drawings: New Inquiries / The Tree Series
In the Greek tradition, Pneuma is the vital breath — the bridge between the physical and the divine. It is the word my practice begins with. These small panels — intimate in scale, made to be approached closely — were drawn in silence, breath by breath, from two specific trees: an Eastern white pine in Maine and a spruce in New York City. Both are evergreen and towering, watched daily from the kitchen windows of their respective houses through the cold months. Neither was ever the same twice. The light shifted, the weather changed, the sky behind the branches was always slightly different.
The marks are not depictions of these trees. They are transcriptions — the body's own branching interior responding directly to the tree's presence and energy. What needed saying was not how the trees looked but how they felt: their rootedness, their reach, their quiet insistence toward something beyond ordinary perception.
When Canadian forest fires sent smoke across New York City in recent years, the air became too thick to breathe outdoors. A practice built on breath — and on direct contact with living trees — was suddenly and literally impossible. What climate change takes from the body is not abstract.
Each panel records its own duration. Together they form a conversation across one season, two cities, and two living trees — made in the winter and spring of 2026.
In the Greek tradition, Pneuma is the vital breath — the bridge between the physical and the divine. It is the word my practice begins with. These small panels — intimate in scale, made to be approached closely — were drawn in silence, breath by breath, from two specific trees: an Eastern white pine in Maine and a spruce in New York City. Both are evergreen and towering, watched daily from the kitchen windows of their respective houses through the cold months. Neither was ever the same twice. The light shifted, the weather changed, the sky behind the branches was always slightly different.
The marks are not depictions of these trees. They are transcriptions — the body's own branching interior responding directly to the tree's presence and energy. What needed saying was not how the trees looked but how they felt: their rootedness, their reach, their quiet insistence toward something beyond ordinary perception.
When Canadian forest fires sent smoke across New York City in recent years, the air became too thick to breathe outdoors. A practice built on breath — and on direct contact with living trees — was suddenly and literally impossible. What climate change takes from the body is not abstract.
Each panel records its own duration. Together they form a conversation across one season, two cities, and two living trees — made in the winter and spring of 2026.
Eastern Pine 1, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic, pencil on paper, 14 x 10 inches
Eastern Pine A, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic, oil pastel on panel, 14 x 11 inches
Eastern Pine 5, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic, oil pastel on panel, 14 x 11 inches
Spruce 2, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic on panel, 14 x 11 inches
Eastern Pine 13, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic on panel, 14 x 11 inches
Eastern Pine 3, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic on paper, 14 x 10 inches
Spruce 5, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic on panel, 14 x 11 inches
Spruce 1, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic on paper, 14 x 110 inches
Spruce 4, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic, pencil on paper, 14 x 10 inches
Spruce 6, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic on panel, 14 x 11 inches
Eastern Pine 2, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic on paper, 14 x 10 inches
Eastern Pine 7, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic on panel, 14 x 11 inches
Spruce 7, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic on panel, 14 x 11 inches
Spruce 8, Triada Samaras, 2026, Acrylic on paper, 11.5 x 8 inches
As the seasons turned, the practice turned with them. Paint replaced marker, brush replaced tool, and color entered where there had only been white against black. The trees are still the same trees. The breath is still the same breath. What has changed is the register — larger panels, a wider range of mark, blue drawn from sky and water as much as from the trees themselves. This is not a departure from the inquiry. It is the inquiry, continuing.
Eastern Pine 14, Triada Samaras, 2026, Gouache/Acrylic on paper, 11.5 x 8 inches
Eastern Pine 15, Triada Samaras, 2026, Gouache/Acrylic/Oil on canvas, 14 x 14 inches
Eastern Pine 16, Triada Samaras, 2026, Gouache/Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 18 inches