Lauren Daughty

Y: Hello Lauren :) Can you tell us a bit more about yourself?

L: I was born in Singapore — my mom is North Macedonian and my dad was British, from Liverpool. I lived in Southeast Asia until I was ten years old. Even though I was very young, that time had a huge influence on the way I see the world.

I also spent a couple of years living in Myanmar, which was such a vibrant, life-filled place. There's often this intensity in countries where people are oppressed by the government. As a child, you don’t really grasp the politics—you just experience things on a sensory level. You feel the atmosphere, absorb the emotions, the energy of the people and the place. Later on, looking back with a more adult perspective, you begin to understand the deeper political complexities behind what you felt.

Besides living in these amazing places as a child, I also spent a lot of time in my imagination. I’ve always loved drawing—it’s something that’s been with me for as long as I can remember, and my parents always encouraged me to pursue it.

I also grew up in an environment where I felt like I had a voice. Even as a kid, my opinions were listened to and taken seriously, which really shaped the way I express myself today.

Going back to the UK was quite a difficult adjustment. My dad hadn’t lived there for forty years, and my mom had never lived there at all.

I’ve always been an observational person — curious about the world around me and always trying to understand what it all means. I think that instinct comes from growing up in different places and having parents from different cultural backgrounds. It gave me a layered perspective early on.

Y: Do you think it has played a key role in your inspiration? Where do you draw it from?

L: I think, in a subconscious way, yes. And also just from the attitude of my parents—they’re both great storytellers. They have so many stories from their lives, from their travels and all sorts of experiences. I grew up listening to those and thinking, I want to tell stories too, in my own way.

A lot of my inspiration also comes from simply staying open to what’s happening around me and then translating that through drawing. It’s a way of making sense of things and sharing what I see or feel.

Y: When did you know that this is what you wanted to do?

L: I studied illustration, but I didn’t always know this was what I wanted to do. It really started back in school — especially in secondary school — when drawing became my favorite thing.

It’s always been a kind of space I could escape to. At first, it was just something I did for fun, but over the years it became this grounding part of my life — a space where I could relax, play, and explore ideas. Illustration felt like a natural extension of that, because it’s not just about drawing, but also about storytelling and communication, which I’ve always been drawn to.

Y: What emotions or responses do you hope to create with your work? Is there a particular story behind it?

L: For the past few years, I’ve been focusing a lot on nature—on the outdoors and its connection to mental health. I lost my dad when I was 26, four years ago. We were really close, and his passing was quite sudden—it came out of the blue.

During that time, especially in the first year of grieving, I found that one of the things that brought me the most comfort was going for walks, spending time outside, and paying closer attention to the natural world. I’d do that with friends, or sometimes on my own, and I was also reading a lot. There was one book in particular that really stayed with me—it explored the question of why our minds need the wild and the outdoors.

Of course, we all kind of know that instinctively, but reading it while also living through the experience made it feel very real. Being in nature brought moments of joy at a time when I was deeply sad.

So, while my work isn’t necessarily about grief, it is about feelings. That’s what I try to communicate—a sense of joy, comfort, or wonder. The feeling you get when you’re outside, exploring, noticing, and staying curious about the world.

With commercial illustration, I usually tell a specific story. But with my own work, it’s more of a blend — observations, memories, and figuring out how to communicate energies and movements.

It’s partly about conveying a feeling, but it’s also about enjoying the spontaneity of the moment—being expressive and playing with the process as I create.

Y: What’s your most beautiful moment during the creative process? What’s the most enjoyable thing when you're creating?

L: I think I’m really drawn to color—I love experimenting with combinations that feel harmonious, but also introducing a bit of contrast that makes you look deeper into the piece.

I really enjoy the beginning of that process, when it feels like I’m mapping things out. That stage is so special because I’ve just entered this space where I’m not thinking about anything else. It goes back to that idea of a safe space—I feel like I can step into my own world and also create one at the same time, and that’s incredibly satisfying.

I feel quite lucky to have something like that. It’s almost like meditation. Creating is such an act of presence—being fully in the moment—and it’s a gift to have that kind of time.

Y: How do you nourish your creative process on a daily basis?

L: Being here at Casa Balandra, the artist residency in Mallorca, has really made me reflect on that. I think my process is quite mixed. I try to meditate often—it helps ground me, especially when I’m feeling all over the place.

I also love looking at reference materials, going on walks, and just taking in colours and shapes—trying to spot patterns or textures in the world around me. Even when I’m busy, just watching people, seeing how they move or interact with things, can be so inspiring.

Reading also really nourishes me. That might come from my background in illustration. When I read something exciting, it instantly triggers images in my mind. It often sparks the beginning of an idea—something I might want to draw or explore visually.

Aside from that, I wouldn’t say I have a strict routine, haha. Some days I wake up really in the mood to draw, to experiment, and just see what comes out. Other days, that energy isn’t there—and I’m learning to listen to that, to not force it. On those days, I might just read, take a break, or just go about my day.

It’s hard sometimes, because we’re so conditioned to feel like we need a routine to be productive. But creativity doesn’t always work like that. It can come out of nowhere—like a spark. Sometimes I’ll be going to bed, or just doing something completely unrelated, and an image will pop into my head. I can see it really clearly—how it would look on paper or canvas—and when that happens, it’s such a good feeling. But it’s not every day, haha, and I think that’s okay too.

Y: Do you have a memory of being emotionally overwhelmed by a piece of art?

L: Even though I make art—paintings and drawings — I think I often feel that kind of emotional intensity more from films.

I really love Hilma af Klint. Her work uses symbolism to communicate ideas, and I find that so powerful — how she manages to express complex thoughts in these almost simplified, abstract forms. She’s considered one of the first female abstract artists, and a lot of her work has only resurfaced recently. There's a strong connection in her paintings to astrology and natural elements—organic shapes, flowing forms. Looking at her work sparks something in me; it feels both inspiring and deeply emotional. It gives me a sense of being part of something bigger — like part of the universe. That’s definitely a strong feeling.

I’m also very inspired by Japanese anime films. One of the first films my mum got for me was Spirited Away by Hayao Miyazaki. I used to watch it on repeat. It’s about this girl who gets separated from her parents — it’s a story of deep loneliness but also of self-discovery.

Another Miyazaki film I absolutely love is Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind. It tells the story of a world where insects have grown to massive sizes in a toxic jungle that humans can’t inhabit. It’s essentially about how humans have misused the planet — and what might happen when that goes too far. But Nausicaä, the main character, finds a way to live in harmony with nature. She creates this space — a conservatory — where she’s able to grow unpoisoned plants using clean water she’s discovered how to make. I just find that story so moving. It’s such a beautiful metaphor for balance, care, and coexistence with the natural world.

Y: What are you currently working on? What’s next? How do you see yourself in the upcoming years?

L: So, what I’m doing here at Casa Balandra — and what I’d really been longing for — is developing my practice in a deeper way. I’ve been working as an illustrator, which I love, but I also want to expand my work into more of a personal artistic practice — one that gives me the freedom to explore ideas and communicate thoughts more intuitively.

I’d like to keep building on that. I love the challenge of it. In a way, it’s more difficult than illustration because you’re really pulling from within — you’re asking yourself what you’re thinking, what you want to say, and how to express that. But I also feel it’s something I’ll always want to keep figuring out, and I really enjoy that process.

I’d also love to collaborate with other people. If I think about the kinds of things I’d like to make, I imagine working with textiles —that would be amazing. I just want to keep going, keep making. It’s kind of magical — I never get bored of drawing. I’ve always loved exploring new ways of doing it. That’s how I keep challenging myself and avoid getting stuck in just one way of creating. It keeps it exciting. It’s just really fun.

Y: And lastly… what would you tell your five-years-younger self?

L: I’d tell her that she’s going to mature very quickly—for reasons outside of her control, like grief—but that she’s going to be okay. She’ll grow into herself and feel more comfortable in her own skin. And I’d remind her not to get caught up in thinking she can’t do things or let anxiety lead the way. You’re free to do whatever you want. Life is meant to be enjoyed and experienced—what else is the purpose of living? Use the time you have in as many meaningful ways as you can, whenever you can.

A conversation with Lauren, at Casa Balandra, an artist residency in Mallorca — March 2022.