High Point Fall 2026 Recap

Elevate the East Portfolio

Open Assembly

Open Assembly Sterling Recreation Center, Cleveland, Ohio; commissioned by the City of Cleveland Public Art Program, 2026 About the Artwork Open Assembly consists of four sculptural aluminum benches, finished with a soft blue powder coating, arranged in a continuous, winding seating formation across the concrete grounds of the Sterling Recreation Center. An enlarged Braille poem runs across all four benches, cut directly into the metal surfaces. The text of the poem originates from the community. During a series of community discussions, residents were asked about their experiences of the space—what they see, hear, and feel there. Their responses—drawn from the community, as well as the Cleveland Scrappers (a blind baseball team that trains on the nearby field)—became the source material for the poem. The Poem Run, stretch, move, walkBall beeping, bat crackingTrains and traffic passing byNeighbors stopping, staying to talkGreens and blues of field and skyA space to gather and moveA second home, a place of prideThis is a place that is ours The Poem in Braille The poem is cut into the benches as an enlarged Braille pattern, scaled up intentionally as a nod to the Cleveland Scrappers and as an abstract visual and tactile element moving across all four benches. Below is that same text shown in standard-scale Braille, for anyone who would like to see the letterforms it's built from. This image is decorative; the words themselves are written out in full above and below for every reader, including those using a screen reader. ⠠⠗⠥⠝ ⠎⠞⠗⠑⠞⠉⠓ ⠍⠕⠧⠑ ⠺⠁⠇⠅ ⠠⠃⠁⠇⠇ ⠃⠑⠑⠏⠊⠝⠛⠂ ⠃⠁⠞ ⠉⠗⠁⠉⠅⠊⠝⠛ ⠠⠞⠗⠁⠊⠝⠎ ⠁⠝⠙ ⠞⠗⠁⠋⠋⠊⠉ ⠏⠁⠎⠎⠊⠝⠛ ⠃⠽ ⠠⠝⠑⠊⠛⠓⠃⠕⠗⠎ ⠎⠞⠕⠏⠏⠊⠝⠛⠂ ⠎⠞⠁⠽⠊⠝⠛ ⠞⠕ ⠞⠁⠇⠅ ⠠⠛⠗⠑⠑⠝⠎ ⠁⠝⠙ ⠃⠇⠥⠑⠎ ⠕⠋ ⠋⠊⠑⠇⠙ ⠁⠝⠙ ⠎⠅⠽ ⠠⠁ ⠎⠏⠁⠉⠑ ⠞⠕ ⠛⠁⠞⠓⠑⠗ ⠁⠝⠙ ⠍⠕⠧⠑ ⠠⠁ ⠎⠑⠉⠕⠝⠙ ⠓⠕⠍⠑⠂ ⠁ ⠏⠇⠁⠉⠑ ⠕⠋ ⠏⠗⠊⠙⠑ ⠠⠞⠓⠊⠎ ⠊⠎ ⠁ ⠏⠇⠁⠉⠑ ⠞⠓⠁⠞ ⠊⠎ ⠕⠥⠗⠎ Open Assembly was designed and conceived by artist Lauren Herzak-Bauman of Lauren HB Studio, with fabrication by Rustbelt Cleveland. Open Assembly (中文) 《Open Assembly》 Sterling 康乐中心｜克利夫兰，俄亥俄州 由克利夫兰市公共艺术项目委托创作，2026年 关于作品 《Open Assembly》由四张雕塑感十足的铝制长椅组成。长椅表面采用柔和的蓝色粉末涂层，并以连续、蜿蜒的座椅形态排列于 Sterling 康乐中心的混凝土场地上。一首放大的盲文诗歌贯穿四张长椅，以镂空的方式直接切割于金属表面。 这首诗的文字源自社区。在一系列社区座谈会上，居民分享了他们在这个空间中的体验——他们在这里看到了什么、听到了什么，又感受到了什么。他们的回答，以及在附近球场训练的克利夫兰 Scrappers 盲人棒球队队员的声音，共同成为这首诗的创作素材。 诗歌 奔跑、伸展、移动、行走；球声嘀嘀，球棒清脆；火车与车流驶过；邻里驻足，攀谈畅聊；球场之绿，天空之蓝；一处聚集与活动之地；第二个家，荣耀之地；这里，是我们的家园。 长椅上刻有这首诗的放大版盲文图案。盲文图示及对应说明请参见上方英文部分。 《Open Assembly》由 Lauren HB Studio 的艺术家 Lauren Herzak-Bauman 构思并设计，由 Rustbelt Cleveland 负责制作。 Open Assembly (Español) Centro Recreativo Sterling, Cleveland, Ohio; comisionado por el Programa de Arte Público de la Ciudad de Cleveland, 2026 Sobre la obra Open Assembly consiste en cuatro bancas esculturales de aluminio, terminadas con un acabado en polvo azul suave, dispuestas en una formación de asientos continua y sinuosa sobre el terreno de concreto del Centro Recreativo Sterling. Un poema en braille de gran tamaño recorre las cuatro bancas, calado directamente en las superficies metálicas. El texto del poema proviene de la comunidad. A lo largo de una serie de conversaciones comunitarias, se preguntó a los residentes sobre sus experiencias en este espacio: qué ven, qué escuchan y qué sienten allí. Sus respuestas —provenientes de la comunidad, así como del equipo Cleveland Scrappers (un equipo de béisbol para ciegos que entrena en el campo cercano)— se convirtieron en la materia prima del poema. El poema Correr, estirar, moverse, caminarLa pelota pita, el bate truenaTrenes y tráfico que pasanLos vecinos se detienen, se quedan a conversarEl verde del campo, el azul del cieloUn espacio para reunirse y moverseUn segundo hogar, un lugar de orgulloEste es un lugar que es nuestro La versión ampliada en braille de este poema, tal como está cortada en las bancas, se muestra en la sección en inglés más arriba. Open Assembly fue diseñada y concebida por la artista Lauren Herzak-Bauman de Lauren HB Studio, con fabricación a cargo de Rustbelt Cleveland. Lauren laurenhbstudio.com

Behind the Work - Stacks

Behind the Work - Stacks     I made my first Stack in grad school, around 2007. It was a year after my sister Marci passed, and I was deep in my grief. Books had appeared in my work before, but as closed, representational objects. I started opening them up. The inspiration came partly from one of Marci's housemates, Maura, who used old fabric pattern books as a form of stimming. Marci had cerebral palsy and was in a wheelchair — she didn't speak, and had little control over her body. Watching Maura move through those pages stayed with me. The resulting object stayed with me too — it was this beautiful record of an action repeated. After Marci died, I turned to my work to process what I was carrying. The work turned inward and abstract, using pages and paper as objects to express the deep, ongoing conversation I was having with myself. I started letting these objects move. I let go of control. Around the same time, I took a trip to the Anniversary Narrows. The big slabs of rock falling into one another, each one affecting the one before and after it, felt like a metaphor for life — for what it means to release your grip on how things are supposed to go. I was introduced to porcelain around this time too, and fell in love with it for its strength and its fragility. It was the perfect material to hold all of that: the inner grief, the loss, the processing. The whiteness of the clay, the raw clay fired, felt stripped away from other ceramic signifiers. More raw. More vulnerable. The first Stack looked like a pile of white Post-it notes. I had carved X's and O's into them. Kisses and hugs to my sister. Working repetitively is a form of grieving. Every time you repeat the action, the object is different. You are different. Eventually, all the moving will lead you somewhere else. And it did.     The kiln took hold at times too, allowing these stacks to move more than I had planned, fully removing my control over the final outcome. That felt right. That was the point. This body of work continues, though I am in a much different place with my grief. I come back to these for the same reason I return to any repetitive work: every time, they are different. I am different. I hope this offers a thread of connection — to my material choices, my thematic choices, and why I choose process-based work. Commission inquiries are welcome.