On Slowing Down
In a culture of speed, I am increasingly drawn to slowness.
Not in a trending, hashtag kind of way — but as a necessary and deliberate choice.
Taking time now feels essential. Immersing myself fully in my practice, and sitting with new thinking, knowledge, and possibility through the MA, has created space to exhale. Space to focus. Space to consider what the next chapter of my work truly needs to be.

We live in a world of constant noise. From the moment we wake to the moment we fall asleep, our attention is pulled in countless directions. Screens saturate us with information, opinions, and imagery, slowly diluting original thought. As a sensitive person, I have felt how easily this overstimulation can blur clarity and pull me away from my centre.
Competing in a culture of volume — of who shouts the loudest to be seen — is the opposite of where my practice lives. It simply isn’t where I belong.
Slowing down has allowed me to work more intentionally. I no longer feel the need to solve every creative problem the moment it appears. Instead, I give myself permission to sit with things — to let ideas take shape, to act from a place of connection rather than urgency. This feels like alignment. Like truth.
This is also a time of finding my voice — and allowing myself to use it. My expanding art practice has become the vessel for that exploration. After years of being tethered to a desk, with a screen as my primary tool, I find myself yearning for materiality. For touch. For scale. For the physical act of making.
Rather than repetitive, precise movements on a tablet, I want to work with my hands. To explore unfamiliar materials. To mix media. To play without expectation. To trust the process, even when the outcome is uncertain.
Allowing myself to make work that isn’t perfect is a real challenge — and a necessary one. After decades of producing polished, high-standard commercial work for clients, I am now extending that same care and seriousness to my own creative life. The difference is that here, the value lies not in control, but in discovery.

I find this both exciting and exhilarating.