"Think of one of your favorite landscapes- it doesn’t have to include a dramatic ocean or mountain, but even something as simple as your backyard after a storm, or the morning sun shining on the road as you drive. It is quiet, internal moments like this that fuel me. We live in this amazing world and so many little moments should be perceived as a miracle, as a work of art." Chloe Saron refers to her pieces as Modern Romantic Landscapes. Embracing her favorite part of the Romanticism movement, she aspires to experience and understand the world through emotion and feeling. Her landscapes are born from her subconscious, fusing her memory with her perception of an idealized scene. She starts each painting with only a loose sense of a specific memory and a vision of where light will reflect. The rest transcends through many fine layers and compositional arrangements. Though subtle, some pieces have emerged with hints of the many landscapes Chloe has witnessed - ranging from her time living in Wyoming and Colorado to her travels in Southeast Asia, Australia, and Europe to her home base in Vermont and the Adirondack Mountains. Chloe purposely blurs or ‘fogs’ her paintings to force the viewer to see the landscape as a whole. By eliminating tight detail, the eye is not distracted by ‘this or that' in the landscape. The viewer is able to perceive the scene as a moment. She hopes that such ambiguity enables each viewer to connect with the scene in his or her own way and pull from a personal memory- a place, a feeling, or a time. Artist Statement What is so exciting about my process is that it is an act of personal rebellion. It goes against everything I was trained to do. I blur lines where they shouldn’t and let go of reference, accuracy, and fixed representation. I am pulling from my innate training to make sense of a scene that is entirely automatically painted, an evolving riddle that becomes more satisfying in its unfolding. What I’ve found through this process is a way of listening, not just to what I see, but to what I feel, remember, and carry internally. Scenes from memory, relationships, and an internal dialogue I cannot express in words begin to surface slowly, sometimes unexpectedly, as if they have been waiting for the right conditions to emerge. That space is often rooted in environments that feel untouched, quiet, and expansive. I am drawn to places where the noise of daily life dissolves and something more instinctual can surface. In these moments, I am not observing nature, but reconnecting with it, as a way of processing trauma, grounding the body, and returning to a sense of wholeness. My practice arose from living within an environment of constant loudness, unpredictability, and fear. Amid that noise, I discovered the necessity of carving out silence and spaces of peace. Painting became not just a creative act, but a lifeline. It was my way to process trauma, hold onto moments of beauty, and remind myself that quietness exists. Water, reflection, and natural atmospheres often appear as visual languages within the work. They dissolve boundaries, blur perception, and resist fixed meaning. I am drawn to the human form in its most natural state: unclothed, unguarded, and unstructured. Figures placed within these environments read as a return to something eternal and unchanged. Underlying the work is a recognition of a continuous, generational search for meaning. We cannot escape the pains of the world; we inherit them, repeat them, and move through the same relational and societal struggles as those before us and those who will come after. In this way, the paintings become a point of connection, linking past, present, and future through shared human experience.I am interested in the energies exchanged between people. How we give, take, harm, support, and ultimately grow. There is tension in this exchange, but also the potential for transformation. Through struggle, there is the possibility of becoming more aware, more connected, and more grounded within ourselves. Ultimately, my paintings are my way of saying that the way out is within. Through stillness, reflection, and a return to both nature and the self, we can reconnect with ourselves, with each other, and with something larger than us. The work becomes both an offering and a reminder, that even in the midst of noise, uncertainty, and repetition across generations, there is always a space of quiet available to us.