Studio life in Pantin — A new chapter

Since September last year, life and work have taken on a new rhythm—and it all started with a move.

In early autumn 2024, I moved into a shared atelier in Pantin, on the eastern edge of Paris, with two close artist friends, Deniz Demirer and Zoe Meyer. We found a space above an office with high ceilings and beautiful shifting light. It’s the kind of place where you can exhale and just create. There's even a terrasse where we work outside on sunny days—a small detail that’s turned out to be an essential part of our creative flow. Some of the most grounding moments from these past few months have been spent out there, painting under the open sky with coffee in hand and quiet conversation drifting in from the studio.

The atelier has quickly become more than just a workspace—it’s a sanctuary. A place where thoughts slow down, and ideas take shape in their own time. I’ve been working intensely (and joyfully) on two major bodies of work, both of which reflect my ongoing fascination with inner worlds, mythology, and symbolism.

Architectures of the Subconscious

The first series I’ve been developing is called Architectures of the Subconscious. It focuses on imagined buildings—houses, cabins, doorways—each standing in for an internal space or emotional state. Some of these structures feel welcoming, others more ambiguous or haunted. They’re often inhabited by animals or spectral figures—symbols drawn from both myth and memory. I think of these paintings as dreamlike maps, charting emotional terrain rather than physical location.

"Winter nights", 2024, oil on canvas, 30x40cm

They explore the idea that architecture is never just architecture. A house might be a safe place, or a trap. A door might be an exit—or an invitation. These spaces aren’t “real,” but they resonate with the way we carry experiences, griefs, and desires inside of us. They are psychological habitats, shaped by both presence and absence.

Mythmaking

The second series I’ve been immersed in is more sculptural and process-heavy. It revolves around the idea of mythmaking—building a personal visual mythology through recurring symbols, imagined characters, and storytelling.

For this work, I’ve introduced a new process: creating my own carved wooden frames, tailored to each painting. It starts with a drawing, which is then transformed into a 3D model. The design is carved into wood using a CNC machine, and from there, I work by hand—sanding, staining, varnishing, sometimes even burning the wood to create specific effects. Each frame is completely unique and made specifically for the piece it holds.

The goal is for the frame and the painting to speak to one another—to become one sculptural object, not just an image in a frame. It’s slow, hands-on work, but it’s brought something completely new into my practice: a sense of ritual, craft, and physicality that I’ve been craving.

Burnt witches always come back

One of the first sculptural paintings to come out of this new process is titled Burnt witches always come back. It’s a work about survival, transformation, and the persistence of memory. The central figure rises from fire, surrounded by symbols of rebirth, rage, and feminine power. The downside of the work is carved into a pyre, parts of it scorched to reflect the idea of destruction as a prelude to re-emergence.

Burnt witches always come back, 2025, oil on panel and carved, burnt and varnished wood

This piece is, in many ways, about reclaiming lost voices—about women who were silenced or punished, and how they return across time and story. Whether as ghosts, legends, or quiet resistance, they find a way back. Making this work was both cathartic and energizing, and it’s set the tone for much of what’s followed.

What’s next

There are a few exciting shows and collaborations on the horizon—some confirmed, others still taking shape. I’ll be sharing more about those over the next few months, along with more behind-the-scenes process images and reflections here on the blog.

For now, I’m enjoying being in the thick of the work—following the threads, getting my hands dirty, and letting the pieces emerge at their own pace.

Thank you for reading, and for being part of this journey. If you’d like to receive updates like this directly in your inbox, you can subscribe to my newsletter [insert link here]. And as always, feel free to reach out—I love hearing how others experience or interpret the work.

With warmth from the studio,

Sandra