Welcome to the studio…

“There is strength in pouring your heart out into your work. Although I always strive to create something beautiful, my intention is to share a piece of my soul, no matter the vulnerability I may feel.”

Genevieve May is celebrated for her distinctive fusion of typography and symbolic realism. Coming from a diverse creative background, including painters, authors, filmmakers, fashion designers, sculptors and musicians, she embraces different mediums to convey the human experience. Her work often integrates elements of fashion, music and calligraphic poetry to convey her narrative. Although painting is central to her work, May’s practice is multifaceted, fusing together visual art with music, calligraphy, symbolism, cinematography, and fashion elements. She feels that her artistic language cannot be confined to a single medium.


It will always be hard to say goodbye, no matter how many times we endure it. As summer fades and leaves turn from green to golden to brown, I will always be reminded of fleeting souls.

The leaves they fall, and I think of you. You still sparkle everyday.

Grief is so repetitive, like a broken record; it is exhausting. Do we ever find the strength to sever such a weight? Is that even possible? Or do we find comfort in keeping it close by?

There is grief I like to keep close to my heart and grief that is too hard to hold. A little bit of sadness can be such a humbling experience and just as the seasons provide change and evolution for the earth, uncomfortable emotions offer new perspectives in our hearts. This is something I wish all humans could experience once in a while.

Severance

Severance, 48’’x60’’, oil and gold leaf on panel

$57,600


Carry You

They do not understand, so they tolerate us. They listen more than we give them credit for. As we pluck selected buds off of the tree, we remind ourselves, we are entitled to do so, ignoring the forest that still surrounds us.

So what happens to the boy when he becomes a man? Will he remember us for our wrath or for our kindness? And as time goes by, where will he keep us in his mind as we inevitably become frail? You know as they scribble, temporarily juvenile marks in text book pages from afar, they are watching, silently. One day when their eyes begin to open they may not carry us as they once did. The burdens we cast only becomes our dismissal in the end; a domino effect in society.

Carry You, 20x20’’, oil and cante crayon on panel

$8,000


Killing Them Quietly

The serpent is an animal of instinct and calculation. I have never understood why people repeatedly throughout time, depict the serpent as an evil creature; as if the snake’s intentions behind their strike or strangle has any malice. Are we projecting our fears in our own humanity onto the reptile; applying an alternate incentive behind their need to quietly kill? Or are we merely intimidated by the animal’s ability to have such a powerful impact on the ecosystem, in complete silence?

Almost blind, no limbs to run, no ears to hear; they rely on the very vibrations of the earth and surrounding temperature changes to assist in their hunting skills. A snake will patiently wait for their prey to arrive at the perfect moment before they strike. Their life depends on it. The snake will embed their venomous fangs into warm bodied creatures, paralyzing their kill within moments. They will strangle their prey to death, insuring that the animal will not attack or hurt them during their vulnerable digestive process. Yet we find that to be strange, misleading and sly, as if the serpent intends to make their prey feel foolish for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We find it unsettling that they slither and do not walk, that they are cold blooded and lack any hint of emotional expression on their faces. Yet still, the serpent has never started a war, told a lie, or taken more than what they need.

Killing Them Quietly, 24x24’’, oil and gold leaf on panel

$11,500


Uncanny Dreams

“Some believe dreams are where we encounter the divine, others say they’re psychological mirrors, or that they are strange blurred memories of other lives. Maybe we’re remembering something we were never supposed to forget.”

The technical process behind this series involves sculpting and set design for visual reference that echo some of my own dreams. Every detail builds a world that blurs the boundary between waking life and the sleeping surreal. The white-washed setting, the calligraphic messages, the paper-flesh textures, the half-hidden crescent moon, is part of the world I’m building.


The Uncanny

This painting explores the way dreams become a theater for strange and symbolic versions of the people and animals who’ve shaped us, some long gone, others never fully known.

In the dreamworld, these figures return not as they were, but rather as exaggerated, playful, or distorted versions of themselves, carrying the emotional weight of our memories in childlike disguise.

Animals speak, faces blur, and time folds, allowing us to process grief, longing, and transformation through metaphor and imagination.

The work invites viewers into that liminal space, where the subconscious softens hardship with surreal beauty, offering dream-born understanding.

The Uncanny, 9x12’’, oil on panel

$2,100


Ephemeral One

The symbolism of black butterflies appears in many cultures often carrying themes of death, transformation or messages from the spirit world.

In Irish folklore black butterflies are seen as the souls of the dead who are wandering or visiting loved ones.

In Latin American folklore they are often an omen that someone may die soon, but others see it more gently; as a soul come to say goodbye or deliver a final blessing.

In East Asian traditions butterflies are also seen as messengers between worlds. A black butterfly can mean the spirit of an ancestor is near or watching over the living.

Beyond folklore, black butterflies have come to represent profound transformation through loss or darkness, they embody the idea that even in endings, there is metamorphosis. There is something bittersweet about the idea of letting go of something old so something new can emerge.

I find it bizarre but comforting how people all over the world, throughout time and distance, share common beliefs in the symbolic meanings carried out by animals. It’s a reminder that no matter how different our languages or landscapes may be, we’ve always turned to the creatures around us to help us name what’s too big or too mysterious to hold alone.

Much like the black butterfly’s symbolism, dreams have a way of leaving marks on us. Sometimes they stir up the grief we carry deep down but other times they give us a gentle escape from reality’s demands.

In this painting, I wanted to capture the quiet ache of loss that often visits me in dreams. For me, the black butterfly in this painting represents loved ones I can’t hold in the waking hours. Their presence feels vivid but ephemeral in my sleep, like a tease, a sweet relief before resuming the day.

I have found that dreams can be just as heartbreaking as they are healing. They can offer such sweet relief or become something we dread to face upon drifting off to sleep. And while dreams won’t bring them back to us completely, all we can ask for is a visitation once in a while, the ability to linger there in the world of dreaming for just a little longer.

Ephemeral One, 11x14’oil on panel

$4,100 framed


Orbit

For many months upon making the transition to pack up my life and move to New York City, I had the same dream over and over again. I kept dreaming of having this strange encounter with a mountain lion. I remember feeling uncomfortable at the thought of looking into the animals eyes. They were intense, unblinking moments that felt both threatening and strangely protective; as if the animal knew it possessed something that I wanted. It was the loudest, silent moment l've ever had in a dream.

In the wild, eye contact is never casual; it's a signal of power, a challenge, or a plea for safety. I wanted to capture the intensity I feel in my dreams towards these powerful creatures in this painting, a way of facing fear head-on. Just like in the dream, where I confronted something primal by staring into the mountain lions eyes, this piece invites the viewer to do the same: to meet whatever they're afraid of without looking away.

Some believe dreams are where we encounter the divine, others say they're psychological mirrors, or that they are fragments of other lives, past, future, or simultaneous. Maybe we're remembering something we were never supposed to forget.

For me, this painting is a reminder to not be afraid of what we are capable of.

Orbit, 48’’ diameter, oil on panel

$36,200


Nature’s Way

While lions embody individual power and dominance in the wild, their existence in nature is surprisingly fragile and even faces extinction. In contrast, goats, though often hunted and physically less imposing, have demonstrated a remarkable resilience throughout time, demonstrating their superior strength as a species.

Symbolism of the Panthera (Lion)

The symbolism of the lion in my painting refers to a beast that is feared, an aggressive energy that is demanding but is not as strong as we perceive the animal to be. Although the animal is a predator, at the top of its food chain, the big cat population faces a number of threats. Habitat loss, conflict with humans, climate change, and the illegal wildlife trade all impact their future. The fragility of such a strikingly powerful animal is bizarre to me. 

For instance, the American lion, a massive prehistoric big cat, went extinct roughly 11,000 years ago, near the close of the last Ice Age. Though the exact cause of their extinction remains uncertain, scientists believe it was likely due to a combination of shifting climate conditions, a decline in available prey, and possibly the growing presence and impact of early humans. Together, these forces lead to the disappearance of one of the largest cats to ever walk North America. There is such poignance in seeing the seemingly inevitable decline of such a ferocious and mighty specie. 

Symbolism of the Caprines (Goat)

Goats are often symbols of stubbornness, independence, fertility, and survival. For me, they are the definition of an unexpected strength, a quiet confidence that I seek comfort in relating to as a woman. Although they are prey to many and lack the physical strength and power of a lion or leopard, their ability to climb steep mountains, survive on rough terrain, and live close to humans has made them one of the most enduring and adaptive species in agricultural history. They are considered one of the most resilient animals to roam this earth. But regardless of each animals power struggle to survive, we often find that nature owes no mercy to either one.

I am not sorry” on the Female Sculpture

The words written on what I painted to be a mother nature figure in the form of a forgotten ancient sculpture, declare “I am not sorry”. While the statement holds no vengeance or animosity, these words are said with a sense of indifference. They are not told from a humans perspective, but rather from natures stand point. I find that nature operates with a quiet indifference where there is no fairness or competition. The climate is dictated by balance, cycles, and consequence. There is no reward for effort, no mercy for the weak, and no punishment for the strong. In the wild, survival is not earned by worth but determined by timing, adaptation, and chance. The idea of fairness is a human construct, one that nature neither honors nor rejects.

The Symbolism of Humanity

While storms do not choose their victims, and predators do not hunt with justice in mind, we human beings hold standards for our fellow humans and point fingers at those who disappoint us. We have expectations in one another,  have morals and constructs that we take pride in abiding by. We get our hearts broken just as often as we break hearts. We act out of greed and lust but also out of logic and reason. We are capable of loving just as strongly as we are of hating and while we strive to do what we believe is right, somehow we can always be wrong in another’s eyes. The human impact is overwhelming. I think we are all so strange. I thought over and over again on how to apply a sense of humanity to this painting. The words in the background are my confessions to a stranger; however during the process of creating the scenery for this painting, I wrote the words “But I forgive you” on the models back. This phrase serves as a reminder that mankind can have compassion and that the ability to forgive ourselves and others, will always be a mental state we hope to find, once past conflicts are resolved or fade with time. 

The Painting Inspiration 

The outcome of this painting became much more complex than I anticipated. I admit there is much sadness and anguish that stems from this piece; a kind of frustration and lacking the ability to change things. I can rely on art to always serve as an emotional outlet in this way; but at times it can be too much and the artist may not want to revisit those, for lack of a better term “demons in the closet”. However, my fascination with nature and wildlife remains the pinnacle of what this painting is ultimately about. The subject was cultivated from a combination of my travels this past year. Upon traveling to a land reserve on the east coast of the United States with hundreds of goats and other animals around, I was able to capture incredible footage of these environmentally crucial animals and learn about their self sustaining ecosystem. I also recently returned from a trip to Milos, Greece, the original home of the Venus de Milos statue and was greatly moved by the ancient sculptures there that have been preserved overtime. They had such a haunting element that I felt I needed to capture. 

The idea of preservation, the ability to sustain throughout history, was brought on from both my visitations to Milos and to the land reserve with all the animals in their natural habitat. This is why I made the decision to paint the figure and the animals as sculptures, as if they have been stopped in time and are here with us watching all the crazy things we do. Looking back, I have been fortunate to spend time with the many animals I am inspired by and have found this part of the process to be rewarding. I have been bitter, endured grief and lost a few along the way, as many of us have, but when I find myself trying to find answers as to why this or that has happened, I gain perspective from the animals and from nature’s course. I am humbled by the wilderness and all of its wildlife knowing that in the end, the earth remains indifferent and I am just a visitor creating art along the way. 

Nature’s Way, 36’’x72’’, oil on canvas

$51,800


A Little Less Demure

A series of paintings that contemplate the absurdity of controlled female roles throughout history by mirroring the characteristics of extreme societal behaviors, from the lavish rococo era, to the surreal nature of motherhood in flamingos.

I traveled to Aruba to visit the birds on this small but beautiful island. This is just the beginning of a wild journey through the tunnels of the brain of a girl who is attracted to all things that are strange. I was able to stand in knee deep water about 12 inches from them as they patted the ground with their skinny and freakishly long legs; looking for food in hidden places. Their eyes are like pearls. They shed often and they quack like swans do. I never saw them fly but they do balance on one leg and fall asleep this way. If you are lucky they will take food from your hand. They are aloof but gentle. They are slow moving and seem to be unfazed by the environment of humans drinking cocktails and spreading lotion on themselves. They are so very pink and oddly enchanting. I was the visitor and they were the hosts and it was a great pleasure to witness their lives.


To Lie with Love

Female flamingos feed their babies crop milk, a substance that resembles blood. They are one of the two birds that actually feed their young milk and they deliver the milk from their beaks. This is an intense looking process. The mother bird will deplete herself of her own pigmentation so her young can transform into the crimson pink that we recognize as the flamingo.

She will remain white until her baby becomes independent and able to eat on their own.

To Lie with Love, 12x12’’ oil on panel

$2,800


Birth Expectations

To me this painting has many representations. One being, the act of giving and how sometimes we can give ourselves away too much and in the process we feel our own selves fade, become less whole, lose our original state of being for the sake of saving or loving others.

My dearest friend just gave birth recently and I have been reflecting on some of the feelings she's felt adjusting to motherhood and breast feeding, so this to me is also about motherhood, a more obvious representation; how a child although so small and innocent can completely deplete us of our normal state. We act as a machine keeping them alive but in the process often neglect our own personal needs as a mother. The beautiful part about this though is as mothers, we wouldn't have it any other way. Nurturing is in our blood, our body our souls, this is natural but often tiresome.

Lastly, l've given this much thought and for me, having not had children of my own yet, I relate this piece to the relationship between human beings and the environment. We humans ask so much of the earth to survive. Is this all natural and are we on the right track?

Is it possible that our the earth may run out of giving because we take so much from it? Or is this all perfectly designed despite what we believe or have scientifically proven? This isn't a topic of fairness and whether or not our actions are out of naivety or carelessness, they have the same consequences still.

We remain children, dependent on the very mechanism that feeds us.

The mother comes in many forms, steadfast in the ability to provide, and glad to do so, but perhaps a little tired from giving herself to you.

Birth Expectations, 36x60’’ oil on panel

$43,200