A Continuing Painting This winter, I’m inspired by Judy Tuwaletstiwa’s approach of returning to one painting again and again, layering it with time, thought, and presence. Instead of creating many “finished” works, I’ll be living with a single canvas — an ongoing conversation rather than a product. This idea has been bubbling away for months after I heard Judy’s story, so I am giving it a go!

Winter can be a difficult time for me as I navigate chronic fatigue and longstanding SAD (seasonal affective disorder). But I’ve learned that the rhythm of the seasons can also be a guide, a way to create structure, meaning, and light in the darker months. This year I’ve designed a Seasonal Daily Art Practice to carry me through autumn, winter, and into spring.

I was watching Moana at the weekend with my granddaughter. Every time, one scene in particular stays with me: Moana standing on the beach, staring out to the horizon, knowing she has to go beyond the reef. She doesn’t know exactly what she’ll find out there. She just feels the pull. Others tell her to stay, to be content where she is, but the call doesn’t go away.

Art is connection, not decoration We underestimate the power of our surroundings. The things we see every day—walls, colours, textures, shape our mood more than we realise. That’s why art isn’t just “decoration.” A painting you truly love can shift your whole state of mind. Maybe it’s a calm landscape that soothes you after a tough day, or a bold abstract that lifts your energy before you even have your first coffee.

Bimbling A gentle, meandering walk with no particular haste or purpose. Wiktionary With the speed of modern life where we rush around from morning till night to achieve everything, the concept of &…

Say no to landfill, say yes to real art! We live in a world where so much is made to be thrown away - clothes, furniture, coffee cups...... Everything is designed for speed, not longevity. Art is the opposite. A painting, a sculpture, a drawing..... These are things made to last, with care, attention, and a bit of the maker’s soul poured in.

“What does it mean??” We've all asked it. But here's the truth: there's no right answer. You don’t need to understand art to feel it. You just need to let it get to you.

(Why Imperfect Art Might Be Exactly What You Need) Mark Rothko once said, when pressed about the meaning of his art: “You’ve got sadness in you, I’ve got sadness in me – and my works of art are places where the two sadnesses can meet, and therefore both of us need to feel less sad.” (as told by Alain de Botton)

Do you ever say "it'll be ok" when deep inside you know it won't? It's a big problem for me sometimes, and of course whatever it might be rarely works out and boom, a chance to beat myself up. 🫤 Today I was prepping some cards for my website and getting a large piece of paper taped off ready. I knew it was the wrong paper "it'll be ok" but I taped it up and added the 1st layer of gesso.

(Or: Why That IKEA Print Will Never Speak to Your Soul) Real art—art made by a human hand—can stir something in us. And that can be unsettling, especially with abstract work. No one tells you what it means. It might be easier to choose something mass-produced, designed to blend in, not stand out. But when you buy a piece made by an artist, you’re choosing connection and authenticity.

In January 2024, just one week into leaving my career to focus on art, I collapsed, physically and emotionally. I couldn’t create, couldn’t function. It took months to understand that this wasn’t a sudden fall, but a long-overdue stop. I had been holding everything up for years. Recovery has been slow, and life has had to change completely. But now, 18 months on, I’m about 80% back.

Yesterday, I was reminded of the quiet power of an abundant mindset — especially in creative work. I had been listening to a talk by Nicolas Wilton, one of my mentors. He spoke about the importance of sharing everything we know with those who are a few steps behind us on the path. Nick says that this generosity is not just kind, it’s magnetic.

When Is a Painting Finished? It’s the question I get asked more than any other: how do you know when it’s finished? The truth is, there’s no single answer. Every artist approaches it differently. For some, it’s a feeling. For others, a technical assessment. Many of us rely on time and space to help us see clearly. Personally, I know a painting is finished when it stops pulling at my attention.