Sara Willett
Sara Willett’s paintings emerge from what feels like an endearing and hopeful obsessive compulsion – one that charts repetition as a form of devotion. The process is slow, layered, and meticulous, and the result is a kind of visual ambiguity that holds you in place: a surface that pulses, tilts, breathes.
Her paintings often operate like dreams – fragmentary yet precise, abstract yet tethered to the body. They evoke systems we half-recognise: nets, maps, cells, currents. Beneath the delicate geometries is something less graspable – a tension between control and release, structure and softness.
