Visual Artist

Corinna Springer

NEW YORK, USA

German-born Corinna Springer is the artist behind Gian Kamal Studio, an interdisciplinary practice exploring the relationship between consciousness and matter through painting, collage, textiles, and symbolic language.

Her work is rooted in a lifelong contemplative inquiry into perception, informed by Advaita Vedanta (non-dualism), Kabbalah, the Hebrew letters, the 72 Names, the Gene Keys Synthesis, and other wisdom traditions. Through a contemplative and intuitive process, these symbolic languages and concepts are translated into visual form, inviting viewers into a quiet encounter with themselves and the unseen.
Springer studied Art History in Paris, completing a master's degree at Paris VIII with a thesis on the notion of space in James Turrell's work before pursuing an international career in fashion public relations. Her artistic practice gradually emerged through years of painting, meditation, and contemplative study, bringing together symbolic language, archetypal form, and the subtle relationship between image and consciousness.

Gian Kamal Studio extends this exploration beyond the canvas through artist-designed textiles that investigate how pattern, symbolism, and material can shape our experience of space, presence, and well-being. This inquiry first found expression in a capsule collection of energetically inspired prints, which led to the curation of a wellness lounge at Coterie, bringing together like-minded designers, artists, and holistic practitioners.

Whether expressed as paintings, collages, or cloth, each work arises from the same ongoing investigation into perception, presence, and the quiet dialogue between the visible and the unseen, inviting viewers into a contemplative encounter with themselves and a quieter way of seeing.

What are you making right now?

I am currently developing an ongoing series of paintings exploring archetypes as living structures of perception. Inspired by a passage in the Zohar describing the Four Witnesses—the Lot, the Stone, the Well, and the Song—these works investigate primordial patterns that continue to shape human experience. Each painting unfolds through an extended contemplative process in which image, symbolic language, and material gradually reveal their relationship. Although each archetype expresses a distinct quality, the series explores their underlying unity. This is embodied through a single piece of hand-felted silk, divided into four sections and incorporated into every painting, embodying the unity that precedes separation. Alongside this series, I continue to explore how contemplative art extends beyond the gallery through meditation cloths and artist-designed textiles, investigating how symbolic language can create spaces for reflection, presence, and transformation in everyday life.

If you could spend an hour with anyone you admire, living or dead, who would it be and what would you ask them?

I would spend an hour with Hilma af Klint. I admire not only the originality of her work, but also the quiet conviction with which she trusted an inner process that often remained invisible to those around her. I would ask how she learned to trust what emerged before she fully understood it. Did meaning reveal itself gradually through the work, or was the act of painting itself the way of discovering it? More than discussing symbolism or technique, I would want to talk about patience, intuition, and the courage to remain faithful to a vision that may not yet have a place in the world. I would also be curious to hear her reflect on the channelling process itself—how she understood the intelligences she believed she was in dialogue with, and whether those encounters continued to shape her understanding long after the paintings were completed. I imagine our conversation would leave me with a renewed trust in the creative process itself.

What would you like people to understand about your work?

I hope people understand that my work is not primarily about aesthetics, but about experience. Every painting begins as an open inquiry—a process of listening in which symbolic forms, color, gesture, and material gradually find their way into the artwork. Collage plays an important role in that process, allowing shapes, textures, and relationships to emerge through dialogue rather than design. An underlying theme throughout my work is the transformation of darkness into light. Rather than striving for perfection, I welcome irregularities, dissonance, unexpected brushstrokes, folds, and tears as part of the conversation. What first appears as a mistake can become an opening—a moment in which the work suddenly resolves itself, revealing an unexpected harmony. It is this process of creating unity from separation, of discovering light within apparent imperfection, that imbues the work long before the finished image appears. Drawing from Hebrew, Jewish mystical thought, the Gene Keys, and contemplative practice, I use symbolic language not as something to decode, but as a visual vocabulary that invites reflection and presence beyond form. In that sense, I hope each work offers an experience that gently shifts the way we see ourselves, one another, and the world around us.

What medium do you work in and what drew you to it?

Painting is how I listen. It allows me to enter a dialogue that words cannot fully express. Rather than beginning with a predetermined image, I begin with an idea—a concept, a Hebrew letter, or a quality. From there, color, gesture, symbolic forms, and material gradually reveal themselves through the process, often leading me somewhere I could not have anticipated. **Collage** is an essential part of that conversation. Beyond the depth and richness created through its layered textures, it carries a profound symbolic meaning for me: reuniting what has been torn apart. Fragments, folds, and unexpected relationships become opportunities to create new worlds by engaging the artwork's own reality (*Bildwirklichkeit*). In that sense, collage is not simply a technique but a contemplative and creative practice of unity—a quiet expression of *tikkun olam*, the ongoing work of repair. For me, the medium is never separate from the message. Every brushstroke, layer, fold, and material carries the possibility of transformation. Creating new worlds by engaging the artwork's own reality, I see art as a contemplative practice that invites a consciousness of unity.

What do you need in your workspace to spark creativity?

For me, creativity is not something that begins when I enter the studio. It is rooted in the way I live. My workspace extends beyond four walls into the rhythm of daily life in the Catskill Mountains—walking the forest trails, observing the changing seasons, studying Hebrew and the Torah, practicing meditation, and allowing silence to become part of the creative process. Ideas often arrive unexpectedly: during a walk, while reading the Zohar, or through an ordinary moment that suddenly reveals a deeper pattern. By the time I begin painting, the work has often already been unfolding internally for days or weeks. What I need most is spaciousness—time to observe, to listen, and to let relationships emerge naturally. The studio is where the paintings take form, but the creative work begins long before the first brushstroke.

Has your identity, culture, heritage, or community influenced your creative practice?

Although I was not born into Judaism, Jewish mystical thought has become the central influence on both my life and my artistic practice. After decades of studying Eastern philosophy and practicing yoga, I encountered Kabbalah and discovered a symbolic language that profoundly reshaped both my life and my work. Over many years of studying the Torah, scanning the Zohar at night, and immersing myself in the teachings of Kabbalah, I have found a living tradition that continues to shape the way I perceive reality and approach painting. My practice is sustained through an ongoing rhythm of weekly Shabbat prayers and Torah study—mostly on Zoom, as I live quite remotely in the Catskill Mountains—along with Kabbalah classes, the observance of Jewish holidays, contemplative reading, and the support of a community committed to inner transformation. These shared practices remind me that the work is not created in isolation but grows out of a living tradition of study, questioning, and practice. One of the most unexpected aspects of my journey has been waking with Hebrew words and phrases, despite not speaking Hebrew, that later became the guiding thread for many of my paintings. The 72 Names of God, in particular, have profoundly influenced my artistic process, opening a visual language that continues to unfold through painting and textiles. Rather than illustrating Kabbalah, I hope to express something of its beauty through visual experience, inviting curiosity, contemplation, and dialogue. If my work encourages others to discover the depth, wisdom, and transformative potential of these teachings for themselves, I feel I have fulfilled an important part of my purpose as an artist.

What does success look like to you as a creative?

Success, to me, means remaining faithful to the work itself. It means continuing to listen, to follow the creative process with integrity, and to trust where it leads, even when the destination is uncertain. If the paintings invite someone to pause, to reflect, or to experience a subtle shift in the way they see themselves or the world, then they have already fulfilled their purpose. On a broader level, I hope the work awakens curiosity about the symbolic languages that have shaped my own journey—particularly the contemplative depth of Hebrew, the Torah, and the Zohar. Success would be knowing that someone who had never encountered these traditions before felt inspired to ask a question, open a book, or discover a beauty they hadn't expected to find. Ultimately, success is when the work begins to have a life of its own, continuing the conversation long after it has left the studio.