THE GOLDEN RESIDENCY - December 2025 | New Berlin, New York
I almost did not make it there.
A massive snowstorm was coming in and we arrived just in time. One more day and the roads would have been impassable. Mark Golden told us later that we were lucky. He was right. I had no idea yet just how lucky.
The Sam and Adele Golden Foundation for the Arts sits on 140 acres of fields and woods in Columbus, New York, a small rural farming community about four hours from New York City. When you pull up to it you see this big beautiful red barn building, transformed beginning in 2008 from a dilapidated barn into a state of the art residency facility with three full studios upstairs and private suites below, each with its own room and bathroom and views out over the fields. Miles of groomed walking paths wind through the property and a beautiful brook runs through it. It is quiet out there. The kind of quiet that makes you want to make things.
The Foundation has an established residency program where artists apply and are selected to spend time on the property making work. This was something different. This was a special PanPastel residency outside of that normal structure, and the three of us had been personally invited. It was the first time they had done something like this. For two weeks it was ours.
With Mark Golden, Sarah Gallagher, and Sarah McDonald.
Early one evening I was resting in my room when I heard something coming from the lobby. Music. Saxophone music. I walked out and there was Mark Golden, still in his Santa Claus suit, playing saxophone just for us. He had stopped by on his way home and brought each of us a gift of charcoal. Coal. For artists. From Santa. I could not have made that up.
That was the moment I understood what kind of place I had been welcomed into. These are not people performing generosity. They just are that way.
Each of us got to choose our own studio space. Mine had a huge easel, gorgeous light, and more space than I have ever painted in. From the moment I walked in I felt something loosen in me. There was no reason to stay small. So I did not.
Down the road, less than a five minute walk, was the Golden manufacturing facility. We called it the Mother Ship. This is where PanPastel is actually made. We got to go up there, tour the whole operation, and meet the people who make the medium I have been creating with for over eight years. To stand in that building and understand what goes into every single pan was something I will carry with me for a long time.
The material specialists ran full sessions for us on grounds, mediums, teaching us all the ways that their products can be used. They inspired us to turn into scientists. We had all of their products at our fingertips and I was so eager to explore and see how I could push using PanPastel even more. One of my favorite experiments was using their crackle paste combined with their watercolor ground it was such an expanding experience.
During our tour of the facility I spotted something I had never seen before. PanPastels speckled with two colors swirled together, made from the leftover pigment when the pans are being produced. One of the employees had been putting them together. They were unlike anything in the regular line. Magical is the only word for it. I immediately called them my Unicorn Pastels. Right before we left, Emma Golden brought out a box and each of us got to choose three to take home. I could not have loved anything more. As of April 1st 2026 they are now available as an official product, but getting to see them before they existed in the world was one of those moments I will never forget.
The Candy Store
They also had what they call the candy store. A room stocked with everything Golden makes. You took a cart, filled it up, and brought it back to your studio. Unlimited. All of it. I loaded up on PanPastels, watercolors, and grounds I had never tried before. Legion Paper donated a beautiful selection of papers too, including a jet black hot press watercolor paper from Stonehenge that I fell completely in love with.
I started painting bigger than I ever have. Not because anyone told me to. Just because the space said yes.
The work I made there surprised me. The extra space let me go larger and looser than my studio at home allows. Something opened up that I am still painting from.
One of the conversations I keep coming back to was with Ulysses, the head of research and development. I told him what I had been wanting for years, a PanPastel black so dark it was essentially void. Pitch black. The darkest dark on any value scale. We went deep into it and I got to completely geek out. It was the kind of conversation most people would not understand. I felt completely seen.
That kept happening. With the research team. With the employees at the lunches and dinners they hosted for us. They were genuinely curious about our stories and our work. At the closing dinner, many of the Golden employees we had met over the two weeks came through each artist's studio, and we got to share what we had created, our experiments, and our experience of being there.
With Mark Golden, founder of Golden Artist Colors.
One afternoon the sky cleared and I borrowed a pair of snowshoes and went out alone down to the brook. Fresh snow, the golden hour light spreading across the fields, and a full moon starting to rise. Absolute stillness. I remember thinking I was on a different planet. In the best possible way.
I have been home for a few months now and I am still processing it. I rearranged my whole studio when I got back. I bought bigger boards. I am painting differently. I am thinking differently.
But more than anything I came home knowing what it feels like to be truly welcomed into something. To be treated not as a student or a visitor but as someone who belongs there. That is a rare thing. I am still processing how much it meant.
Exterior photo by Sarah Gallagher. Studio photography courtesy of Golden Artist Colors.