Walking through Best Kept Secret: Student/Faculty/Alumni Art Exhibition at the Stamelos Gallery, I felt that familiar rush—when art doesn’t just sit on a wall but reaches out and grabs you. Some pieces hit me immediately, demanding attention with their boldness, while others worked more quietly, drawing me in over time. What stayed with me were the ones that sparked something deeper—a sense of curiosity, nostalgia, or even discomfort. As an artist myself, I know how much intention goes into every brushstroke, every composition choice, and every texture. Seeing these works in person, I couldn’t help but think about what decisions led each artist to their final piece, how they balanced control and spontaneity, and what emotions they left embedded in the canvas.
Aleesia Sciacca’s piece immediately caught my attention with its playful yet surreal composition. The smiling figure, rendered in what looks like thick, almost clay-like strokes, feels simultaneously whimsical and unsettling. There’s a childlike joy in the exaggerated, almost cartoonish elements—the floating hearts, the bright colors—but the presence of the knife, the dismembered arms, and the eerie face reflected in the table add a layer of unease. It’s a clever juxtaposition of innocence and something darker, which I admire. The textured, almost sculptural quality of the paint enhances the tactile experience, making me wish I could reach out and feel the surface. As someone who works with different media, I appreciate how Aleesia uses texture to enhance the meaning of the piece rather than just for aesthetic appeal.
Paige Allen’s painting feels like a breath of fresh air—literally. It perfectly captures that quiet, contemplative moment of looking out the window on a winter day. The contrast between the lush greenery inside and the stark, snow-covered world outside is beautifully handled, both in terms of color balance and brushwork. The organic, loose strokes in the plants make them feel alive, almost growing beyond the edges of the canvas, while the background’s subdued tones keep the scene grounded. There’s a lived-in warmth to this piece, as if we’re peering into someone’s personal space. I especially appreciate the way light is handled here—subtle, diffused, natural. It’s not easy to capture the way winter light filters through a window, but Paige does it masterfully. This piece resonated with me because it feels like a moment I’ve lived—one of those in-between spaces of time where everything is still, yet full of quiet energy.
Dr. Madeline A. Berkay ’s charcoal drawing is raw and aggressive in the best way. The stark contrast, the exaggerated expressions, and the almost grotesque rendering of both figures make it impossible to look away. There’s a primal energy to it—two entities locked in an unrelenting confrontation. The creature on the left, with its snarling, exaggerated mouth, mirrors the human on the right, blurring the line between them. I find this fascinating because it challenges the idea of who (or what) is the real monster. The rough, almost frantic strokes add to the intensity, making it feel like this argument is happening in real-time. As someone who has worked in charcoal before, I admire the control Dr. Alexa has over the medium—it’s easy to let it get muddy, but she keeps the contrast sharp and intentional. This piece makes you uncomfortable, and I think that’s exactly the point.
Leaving the Best Kept Secret exhibition, I found myself replaying certain images in my mind, as if the pieces had imprinted themselves in a way I couldn’t shake. Each artwork spoke its own language—some playful, some deeply introspective, others confrontational—but all carried a distinct presence. What struck me most was the raw honesty behind them. As an artist, I understand how vulnerable it can feel to put your work out into the world, to let others interpret and dissect it. That vulnerability is what makes art powerful. This exhibition wasn’t just a display of talent; it was a glimpse into the minds of those willing to express themselves in ways that words often fail to capture. Walking out of the Stamelos Gallery, I wasn’t just inspired—I was reminded why we create in the first place.
