
The Way Home; Inside Out (2025) by Barbara Andersen.
Ceramic, china, felt, rhinestone, and paint on wood, 11″ x 11″ framed.
Artist statement: I’ve always wanted a log cabin. Something about the structure. One long, straight, strong timber piled one on top of the other until you’ve got a house. A place to live. A place of safety. It’s a dream. A fiction. An unreality.
I’ve also always wanted to quilt. An old-fashioned notion, true. Cloth, saved over time, cut and sewn, constructed into a beautiful, warm wrap. Again, safe.
I’ve done neither. I am, however, a mosaic artist. I’ve created a ceramic tapestry in a log cabin quilt pattern. I’ve come to realize that home is a place felt from the inside. From this center of our being, we grow sideways, out, up, sideways, and back down again. We weave our way through our life, bursting with color and pattern, or sometimes with simply an opaque grayness.
Sideways is good. Sideways is necessary. Sideways is part of the much larger gorgeous tapestry of life.

Women on Fire (2024) by Mitzi Bernard. Canvas covered entirely with tiny pieces of paper found from magazines, books, and scrap discarded paper, 24” x 30”.
Artist statement: Women on Fire is a female dragon breathing flames of fury. She tells the stories of courageous, strong women throughout history who, through adversity and defying the odds, breathed their own fire and made a lasting impact on our world. From trailblazers such as Rosa Parks, who was a critical figure in the movement for justice, to unsung heroines such as my grandmother, who taught me unwavering values, these women showed us all how to change the world, each woman in her own time and in her own way. It is my hope that these women who made such a difference throughout time will inspire each of us to breathe our own fire.

Learning Zone (2025) by Denise Palguta. Process essays and scraps of thought on painted paper and coffee- and tear-stained pages; acrylic, string, miscellaneous snippets, and pearls on canvas.
Artist statement: Clearing the landscape of the heart is not a straightforward endeavor. Learning Zone is a cathartic work of release and moving out of the way. The thoughts and feelings processed through writing during the creation of this piece exist only here and are melded together with paint and glue and string. The bits of sparkle and shine reflect the beautiful demands of “struggle-work” and the peace and wisdom waiting on the other side. The piece is a reminder that it’s possible to navigate rocky journeys by growing and going sideways.

Unnatural Evolution (2025) by Bryan S. Higgins. Canvas substrate—gardening and nature-related magazines/computer science and technology magazines/Elmer’s Glue Stick. All pieces torn and applied individually, 16” x 20”.
Artist statement: The continued development of technology, social media, artificial intelligence, and computing advancements, with the cell phone being our personal and primary intimate interface . . . pulls us away from our human state, our true nature, and how we are naturally supposed to interact with the world around us. This, to me, represents a true sideways growth that feels unavoidable and unnatural at the same time. We are drawn to it, but we know that it is not our true state, nor is it natural for us.
Artist statement: Growing Curves explores the idea that learning is rarely linear. The curved rows of flowers bend, widen, and shift direction, echoing the nonlinear paths we take as we grow. Some rows stretch all the way toward the horizon, while others—like the purple one—end earlier, reflecting interests or lessons that we naturally stop pursuing. Each curve represents a different form of progress, even when that progress moves sideways instead of straight ahead. Together, the rows create a landscape of growth that is winding, uneven, complex, and as beautiful as the paths of discovery and learning themselves.

Sentinels in the Mist (2022) by Sam Lennon. Lotka, mulberry, chiyogami, and other handmade papers. Pages from an old Japanese calligraphy (or possibly poetry) book. Pieces from a Japanese American newspaper from San Francisco in 1933. And a stamp. All assembled on dried wax, then removed to create a single sheet of paper. The final product is between glass, but this image is a high-resolution scan of the final product.
Artist statement: Sentinels in the Mist marks my return to art after a decade-long hiatus brought on by a fog of depression and the loss of two close artist friends. After being forced to leave my career as an illustrator, I pushed myself back into creativity by meticulously fitting torn pieces of paper together like a puzzle. This represents my “sideways growth”—a slow, nonlinear rebuilding of my life and identity on a smaller, more focused scale. There is no ink or paint here; it is a pure paper collage, representing the physical effort of layering a new reality together, one fragment at a time.

