Sarah Schonhiutt
Art + Extended Media
In desperation for an understanding of my childhood, my work confronts my grief, anger, and overwhelming empathy head on. By using a variety of materials such as pastels, colored pencils, and paint, I reflect on the forgotten playfulness of my youth offering a powerful expression of childlike nature. Memorializing my mother is an act of building a connection to her despite the painful realization she won’t know me and emphasizes the reality of an emotionally absent father. By exploring my upbringing without idealizing it, I am slowly healing my younger self in
a constant search and longing for my own identity within my art practice.
Growing Pains
2026
22 x 30”
Watercolor and gouache on paper
I still love the same things I did as a kid; playing dress up, going to the beach, and animal watching. I find comfort in nature, the gentle breeze, how the light catches onto the trees. I feel myself growing, it hurts but it’s also freeing. My roots expanding and tearing away from those that no longer serve me. The tides wave in and out, washing away my fears for what is yet to come.
Houses That Are Never Homes
2026
24 x 13¼ x 24”
Mixed Media
Found dollhouse, acrylic paint, watercolor, crayons, wood, clay, resin, moss.
Constant upheaval has left me so used to instability. Yet, something is telling me I should be grateful. Like it’s wrong to want more, but don’t I deserve more? Comfort is something that was fleeting, a brief sense of warmth that never seemed to last. Each place, each house, not somewhere to call home, rather a waiting room for what was approaching. Some were infested even when the dogs didn’t have fleas, a toxic presence, always looming. Loss, death, and injury followed us closely. All roads leading to the same destination of turmoil. My mother, gone and buried, almost as quickly as our goodbyes were, or lack thereof. I wonder how this is normal. I’m just supposed to move on, move out, move up, but where is home? I know it’s not here.
