Lauren is trying to tell you something. It's beneath her fingers as she?s scraping through the hot blue and the noisy shimmer, after she's made them hang together. They are the ladder she's climbing towards the only thing that really matters. It's not a phrase you can say precisely. You can only touch it slightly, like a wing raking water. It's a message that?s been with her since she was 7, long of limb and shivering in the pool in Georgia, when a bat skimmed the water before her. How did the water taste to that leather creature? That taste is what she?s after, the plushy nausea surrounding awareness, the nightly antechamber before the void clicks on, when you're so close to sleep that you're scarcely realer than a dollar or a patch of careworn cellophane. There is that swelling just beyond comprehension. She would like to bring it to your attention. She paints it every day, having no alternative, it cradles her completely, and it manifests in everything that she calls to mind. Some distant lover's distant shoulder. The feeling of a blush crossing the cheek. Cool chrome on the palm. Every memory leads to another. Every exit leads to another labyrinth. She traces the simplicity of being and it looks completely insane.0As it comes out of her, it sustains damage, becoming wrinkled color. She sustains damage as well, becoming more Lauren, not any Lauren but this one in particular. The one who wonders about the temperature of the water in the belly of a bat. It was just there a moment ago, briefly swimming through the chlorinated summer." - Sasha Chapin, Los Angeles, 2021 Exhibition: Loyal Gallery, Stockholm, Sweden (03.06-17.07.2021).