Swim Up

If you’ve read the story behind my artwork “Underwater Solace,” you already know: water has always held a quiet, magnetic pull on me.
A place of comfort. A dreamscape I long to stay in.

Which is strange, when you think about it—because my very first real encounter with deep water nearly ended in disaster.

I was in Kindergarten, on a field trip to a resort.

At first, I stayed safely in the children’s pool, splashing happily.

But when I saw some of my classmates playing in the deep end—guardians laughing alongside them—I couldn’t resist.

Without a second thought, I ran over and jumped in, my tiny legs no match for the pool’s depth.

I sank. I couldn’t swim. I couldn’t see. Water rushed into my nose, my mouth.

And yet—there was no panic.

Even as I flailed under the surface, some part of me stayed strangely calm, wrapped in the gentle weight of the water.

It was uncomfortable, but not terrifying.

Eventually, an adult pulled me up, gasping and dripping, but I wasn’t afraid.

Not then. Not even now, thinking back.

Maybe, even from such a young age, I understood that water wasn’t just danger.

It was home. A quiet place. A memory of something older than fear.

This artwork captures that strange bond:

A fantastical bird/fish-like form soaring through a flood of vivid colors and intricate patterns, representing creativity, imagination, and the deep emotional currents that carry us—even when we don’t fully understand them.

The abstract composition stirs the senses with movement and wonder, flowing as freely as dreams beneath the surface.