One year later
I can finally close this chapter.
Hello friends, Happy Halloween!
I initially started this substack for the sake of my thesis. Now it’s been one full year since the show happened! I have had some time to sit and ruminate on my experience (along with *so* much more that has happened during 2024 - but we will get to that in another letter).
Getting accepted for the Master’s program was a huge gamble since I had no idea what it meant to do thesis-level work, nor did I feel confident that I would arrive at any sort of answer by the end of it. I decided to dive headfirst anyway.
Saying that it was hard is an understatement. It honestly kind of destroyed me, but in a good way. It was an incredibly difficult journey, and the experience of going through it has left me forever changed.
Time seemed to be more full when I was working on my thesis. I’m not sure how else to describe it. Every day, I would wake up and go to the studio, painting and working from morning to night, and then I would repeat the process every day, every week. Dawood showed his support by accompanying me, knowing that it helped me focus by having him near me. This body of work and experience was honestly only possible because of his love and support. (Thanks my mehurr!)
A distinct flavor I also have of this time was that I had a special (and ridiculous) concoction of a drink I called my thesis drink. It consisted of a full can of Peach Monster Energy with a shot of matcha. It was my constant companion, along with Dawood. I knew that I wouldn’t work on this level of scale, intensity, and focus for a long time (or maybe ever) again, so I was determined to give it my very best shot by being highly caffeinated always. (That definitely had some consequences, but it all ended up being okay.)
In the weeks leading up to the show, I had locked in my pieces that were going to be shown and got them approved by my committee. With the free time I had left, I decided to just play and made some experimental pieces using monoprint/monotype techniques. What ended up happening was that I accidentally made seven new pieces that spoke about my theme from another perspective. I chucked them all into my show and ended up having catalog of 15 pieces total, filling up the entirety of the Gatov Gallery. This was technically illegal (lol), since I was required to have all pieces approved by the committee, but it was fun to do and they ended up enjoying them as well.
Unfortunately, what completely slipped my mind was my required artist statement. I knew what the theme was and how to convey it through art, but writing it out completely eluded me. I was in quite the pickle, and knew I had to turn someone who had always rescued me when it came to these kinds of situations: my older sister. She was flying down from her home in Washington just to attend my show, and I desperately needed her help.
We met at Moongoat Coffee in Costa Mesa. With only a few hours to spare before the opening, we hashed out my thoughts and ideas fueled with even more caffeine and occasional bouts dancing. Lina helped condense and clarify my 3 year journey into a few eloquently written paragraphs.
ຂ້ອຍບໍ່ຮູ້ [I don’t know], To Know
MFA Thesis Show by Sarah Putros
My body of work focuses on the journey of realization, humility, acceptance, and healing that comes from changing the perceptions I held about the people I know.
I created these paintings while mediating between two phrases: "Yada”—a spiritually laden term within Judaism and Christianity signifying God's intimate knowledge of us—and "Koy Bah Hoo," a Lao expression that means, "I don't know". These phrases were at the forefront of my mind as I reexamined my relationships and history with my family members. By acknowledging my lack of divine understanding, I approached the people I thought I knew with compassionate curiosity and began to learn who they were through interviews, research, and journaling. Over the course of several days, I revisited their stories with empathy, dismantled my previous perceptions of who I thought they were, and emerged with a newfound understanding of the ways their life experiences had shaped them.
Collectively, the works are a diary—a look into my heart and mind as I deconstructed and reconstructed my relationships with the individuals depicted in each piece. Individually, each piece attempts to capture the breadth of the subject’s life—the things they shared and the things they didn’t—and the emotions I experienced as I reexamined who I thought they were.
My multimedia pieces are my response to these revelations.
The choices I made in terms of materials, mark-making, and the ways I depict the human figure reflect my journey from knowing, to unknowing, and getting closer to knowing them from my limited, human perspective. They are fractured and pixelated, dancing between the realm of recognizability and abstraction. My work—mostly created on large sheets of cardboard—will disintegrate over time and only live on through digital recollections and memories. This is intentional: people are supposed to change and grow, and our perceptions of them should follow suit. To allow people to change is to recognize their hope and potential the way God sees us. We are all people in progress.
The works created on more permanent materials represent what are—to me—enduring truths. My hope is that this collection inspires the viewer to reflect on their relationships and wrestle with what it means to truly know someone.
And like that, it was done! It was off to the printers and then tacked onto the wall an hour before the show opening.
My parents flew in from Florida to be there. My friends from discord also all showed their support, and they flew in far and wide. High school friends showed up and surprised me, and my former students popped in and said hello. People from my church came and showed their support, and my extended family all arrived in the droves. It was magical, it was everything, and it was something I would never forget.
Even though this experience was the hardest I had ever gone through, I am so glad for it. The theme that I arrived at in my work still rings true to this day, and I find myself still ruminating over those truths. In all honesty, I have been wanting to make work in response to those meditations, but I felt a call to deeply rest. My body, mind, and spirit all craved a period of stillness and hibernation, and I needed to heed the call. I decided to take a break for a good portion of the year, with the intent of just resting and meditating. (And dear reader, I have done just that!)
Thanks for reading and for reminiscing with me.