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Blair Butterfield

Projects

Monotropa uniflora

Plant Portraits

Plant Fat and Volatiles Work

Unseen Field Culture

Gallery Shows

Writing

Public Works

Archives

About Me

The building at 1995 VT-14 feels like a ghost of local American industry—half-remembered, dissolving into the landscape, lit like a stage set for a dream of productivity long gone. I see it two times a day, it haunts with exhaustion in my peripheral.

The building at 1995 VT-14 feels like a ghost of local American industry—half-remembered, dissolving into the landscape, lit like a stage set for a dream of productivity long gone. I see it two times a day, it haunts with exhaustion in my peripheral.

the quiet stage where time gathers—
sunlight tracing the shape of hours,
My cat flickering through shadows,
Tropical plants leaning toward the unseen pull of warmth.

These rooms are not just backdrops.
They are formative fields—
where my children’s memories root,
where the subconscious arranges its language,
where the fundamentals of love, safety, attention, and self first take shape.

Our kitchen table holds books, drawings, spilled tea, homework, debates, tenderness.
The floor remembers footsteps, the rhythms of living.
The light keeps changing—but it returns, again and again.

A place to read, to study, to grow toward something unseen.
A living archive of becoming.

the quiet stage where time gathers—
sunlight tracing the shape of hours,
My cat flickering through shadows,
Tropical plants leaning toward the unseen pull of warmth.

These rooms are not just backdrops.
They are formative fields—
where my children’s memories root,
where the subconscious arranges its language,
where the fundamentals of love, safety, attention, and self first take shape.

Our kitchen table holds books, drawings, spilled tea, homework, debates, tenderness.
The floor remembers footsteps, the rhythms of living.
The light keeps changing—but it returns, again and again.

A place to read, to study, to grow toward something unseen.
A living archive of becoming.

Visiting home 🐊 🌴 🏝️🪳🪸🐚

Visiting home 🐊 🌴 🏝️🪳🪸🐚

4:45am white river junction

4:45am white river junction

My paintings are records of psychic weather—images shaped by memory, longing, and the subtle tension between containment and expansion. I work from the space between domestic routine and cosmic inquiry: the pull of the floor beneath my feet, and the stars above the roofline.

These are not just homes, rooms, or landscapes—they are emotional architectures. Thresholds. Witnesses. I paint what I carry: childhood places, daily scenes, and dream fragments. But I render them with the recognition that everything is vibrating, layered, mysterious.

I’m interested in the quantum mechanics of presence—what it means to be here, grounded, while always sensing the unknown. In this way, the familiar becomes mythic. The sky leaks into the house. The field hums with memory. And the painting becomes a container for that in-between state I know intimately: rooted, but reaching.

As my kids transition into young adults, I'm recovering myself and making space for all that I love.

My paintings are records of psychic weather—images shaped by memory, longing, and the subtle tension between containment and expansion. I work from the space between domestic routine and cosmic inquiry: the pull of the floor beneath my feet, and the stars above the roofline.

These are not just homes, rooms, or landscapes—they are emotional architectures. Thresholds. Witnesses. I paint what I carry: childhood places, daily scenes, and dream fragments. But I render them with the recognition that everything is vibrating, layered, mysterious.

I’m interested in the quantum mechanics of presence—what it means to be here, grounded, while always sensing the unknown. In this way, the familiar becomes mythic. The sky leaks into the house. The field hums with memory. And the painting becomes a container for that in-between state I know intimately: rooted, but reaching.

As my kids transition into young adults, I'm recovering myself and making space for all that I love.

Charting a nocturnal vortex.
Light pulled through layers of atmosphere, pigment, and memory.
Still in motion. Still becoming

#paintinginprogress #contemporarypainting #cosmiclandscape #moonstudy #studiojournal #artandatmosphere

Charting a nocturnal vortex.
Light pulled through layers of atmosphere, pigment, and memory.
Still in motion. Still becoming

#paintinginprogress #contemporarypainting #cosmiclandscape #moonstudy #studiojournal #artandatmosphere

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