I was swimming in my dreams

a new series of artwork inspired by the water

This voiceover was recorded in my home and unedited and as such, you‘ll undoubtedly, hear Forest pup in the background.

To my friend,

My hand glided through the water. Each stroke was more fluid than the last. My breathing was calm and steady.

It was warm - or so that’s how I remembered it. I was in open water, and I could see the small wave patterns repeat in my dream.

When I awoke, I thought about how I used to swim a lot when I was a kid. I felt something in the water that I never really experienced elsewhere. In my adult life, I’d say it was as close to sublime as I ever felt.

I used to swim anywhere I could. My neighbor’s pool, the Susquehanna River, or the ocean. I couldn’t get enough. I’d swim until the last second. Before I was called to go home.

When I was old enough for people to notice my delight in swimming, I was encouraged to compete. They told me I was a fish. That I just glide through the water.

But something in me, even at that young age, didn’t feel aligned with competing. It felt too boxed in. Contained. Like my thing would suddenly be for something else. Somebody else. So, I declined. And I declined again. It was probably the one thing I was capable of ever really saying “no” to. A “no” I didn’t understand. But felt so sure of at the time.

I still feel this kinship to water. And although I don’t swim regularly anymore (something I’d really like to bring back to my life), I still feel a sense of self when I am near. I jump at any chance I have to be back in the water. My body automatically assumes form. And I move naturally. Like it’s a part of me.

Last summer, I returned to the beach. A place I hadn’t been in nearly two years. So much of my identity felt present. I captured scenes with my viewfinder and binoculars, then in my sketchbook.

a picture with your eyes

I knew it would be a subject I’d one day explore more intimately. Artwork doesn’t always follow my inspiration immediately - and sometimes I need the space reflection offers to understand it. It might take me months or even years before I fully digest and make sense of my perception of something. Naming what it is sometimes takes long contemplation.

When I returned to my printmaking practice earlier this year, I knew instantly it would be the subject matter I’d explore. I started making, what I’m referring to, as minis. One mini after the next. I saw the water in so many ways. And it challenged me to push my printmaking, too.

My kinship came back. The feeling of swimming - that sense of sublime. My body in the water. And the water around my body.

Warmly,

Lauren

P.S. Thank you to everyone who shared in celebration of my new audio class, Foundations in Creative Practice - the Paper Viewfinder. I always love hearing from you, so if you have any thoughts, please hit reply or leave a comment below xx

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Currently reading: You Could Make This Place Beautiful: A Memoir

Currently listening to: this podcast episode

Currently shopping: these jeans