intimate spaces

Mixed Media Drawing on Paper by Sareena Khemka

Three Fold Accordion style Book
Mixed media drawing on paper

The last year has altered the idea of space and what it means to many of us with the onset of the pandemic; Homes that have been displaced and shifted bring up the question of belonging and un-belonging, and the only thing that eventually remains in our possession is memory of them. The house that we occupy has become indelibly etched in our minds, with every corner, everyline and every angle of our bedroom or living room, and the places in between, becoming a part of us.  The comfort yet confinement these spaces gave us, where we experienced the frustration and gratefulness of being inside, yearning to take a deep breath out in the open, to experience the great outdoors, left us in a tussle questioning what these places mean to us.




This work maps inside and outside spaces, with the desk where I have spent many months drawing and working as the central point; adjoining large windows and my bedroom where I looked out everyday and had the recurring desire to be outside in nature. This dream of the wilderness that was consuming my thoughts this past year was fulfilled as I finally sat amidst the tall deodar trees and listened to the sound of gurgling water that overlooked overarching mountains in Himachal.

When I left everything behind, the intimacy of home was replaced by the intimacy of nature. It had the same kind of solitude and quietness I had imagined finding as looking outside my bedroom window.

Volume 09

clay | chlorophyll | crimson

Grass is green where you water it. LC’s words float along over Misch’s guitar. It’s a phrase that feels so obvious, and I’m sure those who tend to gardens know this more than most, but it seems to land more than before. The impact noticeable, memorable, echoing through my being. Perhaps we’re ingrained to think it’s greener elsewhere. This patch is the problem and not whether we’re watering it. The key is in the watering. How we go about this practice is what defines our patch of grass. No matter where we go, our patch is, perhaps, the same. Some attributes and characteristics have been changed but the essence is the same: Us.

Stepping into Volume 09 of imprint, marks our third year. I am learning that this patch of green that we have been tending to for the last several years will mould, shift, and sculpt. This depends on how we water it and allow it to take its own shape. It has already happened in wonderfully unexpected ways. There is only so much structure or shape we can predetermine. Beyond that, it will absorb what it needs and reject all that is unnecessary. And perhaps, in this practice, we are changed. Our grass is watered as we water that of our writing, our image making, our practice, our magazine.

From light to dark, rigid to supple, new to old, there is so much in between that is bright and vibrant and unexpected. The practice of our magazine has focused on being open to what we receive; being open to deeply listening to what is shared; being open to work taking us to new journeys. This volume, and this year, will be no different. We will continue tending to it as we have done, learning along the way, from past seasons and present ones.

And yet, I know it will be entirely different.
But still.
It will be watered.