notes from the studio

I’ve been thinking about what this year might look. Not in terms of plans or goals, but in how I actually want to live my days.

I don’t want to drift through them, going from one worry to the next. Last year was heavy. I miss being truly present. I miss my time in the garden. I miss having small projects and making things just because it makes me feel good.

I spent the last few days doing a studio reset. I was moving things around, clearing surfaces, and I removed some things that don’t match my mood lately. I want a nice and cosy space to create this new season. I was thinking a lot about what I want to return to and what I no longer want.

I’m looking through the window in my studio, and it makes me want to close the curtains. Winter around here can feel especially empty at this time. Damp days, muddy ground, no leaves to cover the view. I tend to look for distractions or imagine being somewhere else. But living too much in my imagination only makes facing real life harder later, so I’m also trying to stay with what is, even when it feels boring or sad.

This year, I imagine a slower, more conscious rhythm, one that feels true to me. Less rushing, fewer obligations, fewer demands that drain my energy. I want to spend more time actually working with my hands, even if the results are small or just for me. Creating simply for my own joy. I don’t yet know what my future work will look like. What I do know is what I no longer want. Rushing, pushing myself where I don’t want to be, working from pressure instead of curiosity. Being caught in endless loops of worry and stress.

This might look like withdrawing. But the truth is, I’m tired of noise.

Being a bit of a hermit actually suits me.

Now you know why I need solitude and silence.

I have to hear myself feel.