Lauren Fennewald

Growing up, my first encounters with art came from my grandparents. They introduced me to the worlds of watercolors and acrylics, teaching me the basics and surrounding me with endless children’s craft projects. I thrived in that environment—and I was encouraged every step of the way. When I started school, I absorbed everything in my art classes like a sponge. I loved it, and my teachers recognized that passion. As I got older, I began attending my grandfather’s art guild meetings. Being the only child in a room full of elders was exciting for everyone, and I soaked up their knowledge and encouragement. Eventually, I was old enough to enter their shows—and I won a few. My grandfather was incredibly proud.

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Fast forward to college: I attended St. Louis Community College and earned my Associate’s Degree. I loved the foundation I gained there. I learned to draw from life and to truly observe the world around me. Those basics strengthened my overall artistic skills and prepared me for whatever direction I chose next. After two years at STLCC, I moved on to Falmouth University in Cornwall, England. Entering a new place, a new culture, and a new perspective allowed me to evolve even further. I began asking deeper questions: What stories did I want to tell? Why these materials, these images, these colors? I found myself drawn to printmaking, embossing, and natural materials—ultimately weaving all of these approaches into a single, cohesive practice.

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I began drawing and experimenting with any flower petals I could find. I wanted to shift toward natural materials; up until then, my artistic world had been dominated by acrylics, plastics, and chemically treated supplies. As I grew older, I became more aware of the environmental impact of these materials and the normalization of overconsumption. I needed a new direction. I knew the synthetic materials like the back of my hand—but, I was tired of them. I craved something different, something that aligned more closely with my values and the broader conversations happening in society. Working with natural materials—especially while living in a new country with its own cultural views on consumption—challenged me in all the right ways. With these materials, I could create ephemeral works of art. I don’t want them to last forever; I want them to exist as moments, as memories. When you see my work, your experience will never be identical to someone else’s from a moment before. The colors shift. They fade. They change.

 

These pieces are memories. Each one is tied to a particular moment, place, or state of mind, becoming a form of diary for me. My hope is that when others observe these works, they find their own connections and reflections within them.