Work samples
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Don't LookThis triptych explores the collision of the periphery. Growing up in Chula Vista, California, Tijuana existed not as a foreign place, separated by a national border, but as a neighboring town. However, the dehumanization of immigrants was smothering and highly visible. On southern California freeways the “Caution” sign with a family running (referenced in this piece) was so commonplace that I became desensitized to seeing it. Once I started deconstructing the politics of transportation and our border, I recalled the sign and was horrified at its ubiquity.
This piece was a grand experiment, focused on the crassness of our vehicular lives. Attempting to cross a street as a pedestrian and exist in spaces that are designed for large, multi-ton boxes whose inhabitants often seem to be texting or focused on the larger risk posed to them (other cars) feels fraught. Encountering tragic and horrifying roadkill, seeing a deer and reconciling with the terror you experience is a common practice while driving and something so ordinary it’s hardly discussed. All of these realities are explored in three panels that allows the the viewer to feel disoriented, nauseous and ill at ease.
About Sierra
Sierra was born in Florida but grew up in Chula Vista, California and has moved 26 times in her life. She had a successful illustration and graphic design business selling wholesale across the country before going back to school to study science. Focusing on biochemistry, her plans unraveled after taking a painting class where she switched disciplines and began formally studying oil painting which has allowed her to combine her interests of car-centric infrastructure, neoimperialism and… more
Don't Look, 2025
This triptych explores the collision of the periphery. Growing up in Chula Vista, California, Tijuana existed not as a foreign place, separated by a national border, but as a neighboring town. However, the dehumanization of immigrants was smothering and highly visible. On southern California freeways the “Caution” sign with a family running (referenced in this piece) was so commonplace that I became desensitized to seeing it. Once I started deconstructing the politics of transportation and our border, I recalled the sign and was horrified at its ubiquity.
This piece was a grand experiment, focused on the crassness of our vehicular lives. Attempting to cross a street as a pedestrian and exist in spaces that are designed for large, multi-ton boxes whose inhabitants often seem to be texting or focused on the larger risk posed to them (other cars) feels fraught. Encountering tragic and horrifying roadkill, seeing a deer and reconciling with the terror you experience is a common practice while driving and something so ordinary it’s hardly discussed. All of these realities are explored in three panels that allows the the viewer to feel disoriented, nauseous and ill at ease.
2025
Oil on canvas
36 x 72 inches
Comfort Consumption, 2024
This project was inspired by the "Stanley craze" where consumers rush out to collect the new season and new color tumblers that originally were marketed as a more economically sound option over plastic water bottles.
The project began by painting garden and natural landscapes on to large stretched linen planes. These green areas were slowly eroded with with "carchitecture"- a phenomemon linked to isolation and hyperconsumption, a trend slowly being studied more in scientific literature. The car imagery was obfuscated with grids, pixels and cells before the entire large canvas was harvested into bits and pieces that became the background the stainless steel waterbottle displays. These grids of canvases entices the viewers and blurs the line of criticism, collection and consumption.
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Comfort Consumption 1-366 x 6 inch linen works arranged in a 6 x 6 grid
acrylic, spraypaint, flashe and oil on linen
2024
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Comfort Consumption #96 x 6 inch
acrylic, spraypaint, flashe and oil on linen
2024
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Harvested Garden of EVA snapshot of some of sections being "harvested" from the larger panel to make the small consumable paintings.
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Garden of EV 2Large linen grounds were stretched and painted to create a lush garden scene that was slowly obfuscated by carchitecture and grids. Representing our isolation and prioritization of cars and sprawl at the expense of all else.
These panels were harvested to create the small, consumable grids that make up the final piece.
84 x 54 inchesacrylic, spraypaint and flashe on linen
2024
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Garden of EVLarge linen grounds were stretched and painted to create a lush garden scene that was slowly obfuscated by carchitecture and grids. Representing our isolation and prioritization of cars and sprawl at the expense of all else.
These panels were harvested to create the small, consumable grids that make up the final piece.
84 x 53 inchesacrylic, spraypaint and flashe on linen
2024
Beyond the Pavement, 2024
A research project funded by a $2,500 award granted by Towson's Office of Undergraduate Research. This project was completed after reading "The Death and Life of Great American Cities" by Jane Jacobs, "The End of Myth" by Greg Grandin, and "Confessions of a Recovering Engineer" by Charles Mahron.
This series explores the isolation and degradation of mental health alongside the environment by policies that prioritize cars over people within urban areas. The accumulation of wider streets is correlated with hyper-consumption, isolation and lack of safety in environments that continually builds spaces for cars at the expense of the economically sound and environmentally conscious policies that could exist for a more equitable and healthy society.
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Only UsI became interested in the idea of how we see other people while we motor around our society. The dehumanization of pedestrians and other drivers as obstructions to our end goal fascinated me and I explored that idea in this piece and in subsequent projects.
2024acrylic, spraypaint and flashe on gessoboard
24 x 24 inches
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Natural CyclesAfter reading, "Confessions of a Recovering Engineer," Charles Marohn discusses traffic lights and the flow of traffic in cities. From being dead stopped to accelerating 30 miles per hour, learning about how the average speed in cities is 10- I began reconciling how ubiquitous stoplights are in cities and whether they're conducive to the health of our infrastructure at large. Risk of severe pedestrian injury is 50% at 30mph, and at almost 0% at 10mph- is the natural cycle of stoplights what should orchestrate our cities?
24 x 24 inchesAcrylic and spraypaint on gessoboard
2024
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Greenspace24 x 24 inches
acrylic and spraypaint on gessoboard
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Interloper24 X 24 inches
acrylic, spraypaint and flashe on gessoboard
2024
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Cities are for Cars, Not People24 x 24 inches
Acrylic and spraypaint on gessoboard
2024
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Potholes/Oil Slick24 x 24 inches
Acrylic, spraypaint and flashe on gessoboard
2024
Nonsense, 2024
After feeling overwhelmed with the amount of blatant lies and the disregard of truth that is pervasive on social media, I sought to use satire and conflicting images to create a fragmented, collage-like series that mirrored the complex and overwhelming flood of information common in our contemporary world.
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BorderslandAfter growing up in Chula Vista, California, I experienced Tijuana, not as a different country divorced from my society, but as a neighboring town that friends and I would travel back and forth from. Moving to Indiana, the politics around "The Border" was my first brush with the violence and fueled rhetoric surrounding this aspect of zoning. In the lead-up to the 2024 election, the disdain around immigration influenced me to read books helping me begin my first exploration into zoning policy.
I read "The Land of Open Graves," and "The Case for Open Borders" and many aspects of these two works have left a profound impact on me that I hoped to implant into this painting.
2024Acrylic, oil, clothing scraps, thread, stongehenge paper and oil stick on canvas
36 x 36 inches
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Not in Nottingham2024
Oil and acrylic on canvas, papier-mâché, canvas scraps, recycled grocery bag, intaglio prints, screen-print
36 x 36 inches
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The Puppets2024
oil, tissue paper, cold wax, wood scraps, intaglio prints on canvas
36 x 36 inches
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Chemophobia2024
Acrylic and oil on canvas
36 x 36 inches