The Making of “On The Water”

My mother used to call me a mermaid.

I grew up near water (on Absecon Bay in South Jersey), and some of my earliest memories of being fully alive happened there. Bodysurfing ocean waves, feeling the pull of the tide, letting the water carry me forward for a few thrilling seconds before the sandy shoreline returned beneath my feet (or, more often, my face).

In those moments, the line between body and water felt thin. I’ve always felt connected to water, and my “mermaid” nickname owed specifically to the fact that my mother had to beg me to leave the ocean. I was like baby Moana: it calls me.

This collection grew from that lifelong pull toward the water.

The On The Water collection is being released this week.

And as with most of the work I make, it started as a feeling about how we can never really be separated from water.

We are made of it.

It moves through our bodies the same way it moves through the tides, through rain and rivers and oceans. When we step onto a dock or into a kayak, we stand on water. We are water beings, drawn back again and again to this vital part of ourselves.

That thought became the thread behind this new work.

To begin, I traveled with my camera along the coast of Maine, photographing small moments of human interaction with water: kayaks resting on the rocky beaches of Mount Desert Island, a quiet private dock in a cove near a beloved art gallery, lobster boats in the working harbor of Southwest Harbor, and larger boats tied along the docks in Camden.

One early morning, I kayaked Long Pond and photographed the reflection of the house where I was staying, resting perfectly on the still water. It felt less like a reflection and more like a second quiet world existing just beneath the surface.

Back in the studio, those photos became drawings.

I translate each scene on my iPad first, reducing the image to light and dark shapes that will eventually become the carved lines of the linocut print. Water is one of the most challenging elements to translate into linocut. It’s sometimes choppy, sometimes still, sometimes flowing in multiple directions at once.

In this collection, carving water required more fine linework than any prints I’ve made before. Many of these linocut blocks are smaller than what I usually work with, which meant every ripple, reflection, and shoreline texture had to be carved carefully into a very limited space.

Reflections presented another challenge. Water rarely mirrors the world above it perfectly. It softens it, shifts it slightly, breaks the image into subtle fragments. Capturing that movement with carved lines required patience and more than a few quiet hours studying how water actually behaves.

Those moments of problem-solving are part of what makes linocut so satisfying.

Each print begins with a sheet of linoleum. Once the drawing is transferred, I begin carving, slowly removing the areas that will remain white in the final image. Each cut adds light. Each line shapes the way the water moves across the surface of the print.

When the carving is complete, I ink the block and print each impression by hand on a printing press.

For this collection, each linocut is a limited edition of ten. Every sheet of paper is inked and printed individually. Even though the same block is used each time, the physical act of printing means each impression carries small variations in pressure and ink that belong to that moment of making, like a wave that follows another wave: fundamentally the same, yet altogether different.

Alongside the five new linocut prints, this collection also includes three smaller text prints. These are open editions, and the words reflect the themes that continue to surface in my work: slow living, rest, stillness, and the quiet ways we reconnect with the natural world.

Once all the prints are finished, I lay them out across the studio table to photograph them together.

That moment always feels like the first time I can truly see the work as a whole. What began as a set of photographs, sketches, and carved blocks becomes something complete: a small collection of places where water and human presence meet.

The On The Water collection will be released on March 20th.

Each piece is meant to hold a small reminder of our relationship with the natural world, not as something separate from us, but as something we belong to.

Water holds us in ways we often forget. May this new work invite you to remember.

May you find yourself drawn to quiet shores.

May still waters remind you to slow your breathing and move in rhythm with the elements.

May you remember that you are a part of the living earth that surrounds you.

With love,

Sarah K

If we haven’t met, I’m Sarah K., an artist and writer based in Richmond, VA. From my sunroom studio, I create linocut prints and written blessings shaped by quiet mornings and the rhythm of daily practice.

This reflection is part of my On The Water Collection - a series of hand-carved prints and written blessings that invite calm into the noise of everyday life. Be sure you’re on my email list so you don’t miss it.