Some artists create things that refuse to stay within a single frame. Nancy Andrews was one of them.
Artist, experimental filmmaker, animator, musician, educator. Her work moved freely between cinema, drawing, sculpture, performance and sound, blending puppetry, animation, documentary, scientific curiosities and strange little worlds of her own invention. Her films explored the boundaries between the known and the inexplicable, often with a peculiar sense of humour and a tenderness that made even the strangest things feel familiar. Six of her experimental films are part of the collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York. In 2008, she received a Guggenheim Fellowship for filmmaking.
But Nancy’s story also belongs to the history of independent music.
In the early 1980s, she shared a house in Baltimore with Linda Smith and other artists and musicians. Together, they formed Ceramic Madonna Head (with Plastic Arms), a short-lived band whose story would eventually find a new chapter decades later. While Nancy continued exploring music alongside her work in film and visual art, Linda became known for her singular, intimate approach to home recording.
In 2020, Linda rediscovered old tapes containing songs Nancy had recorded years earlier. What followed was a long-distance musical conversation between two old friends, eventually becoming A Passing Cloud, released in 2023. An album full of delicate melodies, lo-fi textures, unexpected turns and a particular kind of dreamlike melancholy. A record that sounds like two people picking up a conversation that time had interrupted, only to discover that the conversation had never really ended.
In February 2026, I had the privilege of bringing Linda Smith and Nancy Andrews to Italy for a series of concerts organised with Stand Alone Complex. From Bologna to Bari, Gioia del Colle, Noci and Giovinazzo, my family and I shared a handful of extraordinary evenings with them.
Nancy passed away on July 11, 2026. Remembering those moments we spent together today means remembering not only an extraordinary artist, but also the person behind the music, the films and the many worlds she brought into existence.
Thank you, Nancy, for the songs, the films, the imagination, and for the time we were fortunate enough to share.
Some clouds pass. Some leave a little of their weather behind.
P.S.: I’ve uploaded some videos—footage from the concert that Linda and Nancy gave at Arci U Capòne in Noci—featuring a few songs sung by Nancy.
