About Sarnia de la Mare FRSA Artist. Composer. Storyteller. Disruptor. Sarnia de la Mare FRSA is a boundary-defying multimedia artist, author, and composer with a twenty-year history of interdisciplinary creation. Known for weaving the visceral with the cerebral, the mythic with the mechanical, Sarnia invites audiences into immersive, often hauntingly beautiful worlds that balance precision with wild intuition. From oil-painted wastelands to digital operettas, Sarnia’s work resists categorisation. Every piece—whether an artwork, a piece of music, or an experimental book—asks to be felt before it is understood. A lifelong rebel against uniformity and dullness, Sarnia’s oeuvre brims with curiosity, vulnerability, and unapologetic intelligence. A Career Built on Immersion Sarnia began their journey in the arts as a classical musician, studying the cello and viola with fierce dedication. This grounding in musical form evolved into composition and sound design, with projects spa...
I am amazed that I managed to write a song this week with all that has been going on. The first chapter of the Book of Immersion Volume 2 will be released today and here are the lyrics for the song. I saw the devil again Stroking the folds of your brain He looked through your eyes with a sigh and said hi, it's me again I'm back in the game I saw love fail today Wretched in it's pain I saw the killer of hope He laughed in my face Said you are a joke I am the killer of love Then he took off his glove And the devil man said You taste so good When you're sad The best I ever had I saw the devil again He sat on your shoulder and said You're looking older And yet you still haven't learned how to forget All we got left is us We're never getting off this bus Cos you court the devil And I filled his shoes You're yesterday's news But I'm still around Our bond is so sound Now I am the devil in you I am your only friend Let's go round again Fly Like a B...
📘 She needed a fake boyfriend for 48 hours. What she got was robes, rooftop kisses, and something suspiciously close to feelings. Plus-One Problems by Mills and Swoon Lydia March didn’t believe in weddings, commitment, or eating gluten before noon. But she did believe in being a very good friend, which is how she found herself at a country spa hotel in the Cotswolds surrounded by 12 women named things like Ashleigh and Gabs, clutching a Prosecco flute, and pretending not to panic. “You didn’t bring a plus one?” Gabs asked, faux-concerned, eyelash extensions fluttering like a threatened peacock. “I did,” Lydia said smoothly, even though she absolutely hadn’t. “He’s just—parking.” “Oh. He drove you?” Gabs’ tone suggested this was code for something deeply erotic. “Mmm,” Lydia replied, sipping her drink. “Manual.” The problem was, this was a lie. A big, juicy one. And now she had roughly twenty minutes to produce a man from thin air, or spend the weekend as that girl—the one ...