Last week’s word was connection: from the Latin connectere, meaning “to bind together.” It began as something physical: tying, linking, fastening, and has grown to describe everything from relationships to any place two things touch. I've been playing with acrylic and watercolour inks this week, wetting the paper and dropping inks and letting them find their own connection. I love the randomness of what happens - …

This week’s word is roots, quiet, steadfast things that hold life together. You rarely see them, yet they do all the work, anchoring, feeding, connecting. The word itself is ancient, from Old English rōt and Latin radix, which also gives us radical — literally “to go to the root.” I love that: to be radical isn’t to reject what came before, but to dig deep into origins, essence, and truth.

This week’s word is liminality, from the Latin limen, meaning threshold. It describes the space between what was and what’s next: the moment of suspension before transformation takes hold. Doorways, bridges, shorelines at low tide. They sit between states, quietly holding their breath. Portals. It feels especially relevant now. The year itself stands on a threshold, Halloween, Samhain, the turning from light to dark.

October’s been full of small experiments that have made me get excited about my art again. My Creative Hug project, a loose structure built around a “word of the week” and a larger project, has given me that nudge I've needed. Each word sparks fresh activities, readings, or just little shifts in how I see things.   I've been watching leaves fall into puddles, shadows form on walls and paint drip randomly. 

This week’s word is serendipity - those happy accidents that seem to find you when you’re not looking. The word itself comes from an old Persian tale about three princes who kept stumbling upon discoveries by chance, guided by curiosity and awareness rather than control. In my art, serendipity feels like the moment a drip lands perfectly, or a colour I didn’t plan suddenly makes the whole piece sing.

Not everything needs to be understood. Some things are meant to be felt and experienced. My word of the week has been mystery. Etymology & history of “mystery” From Latin mysterium → from Greek mystērion (plural mystēria) = “a secret rite, a hidden truth known only to the initiated.” Related to mystēs (“one who has been initiated”) and myein (“to close the eyes or lips”), suggesting secrecy or silent knowing.

As part of my Creative Hug, I have a word a week to inspire my art. This week, I’m doing everything with curiosity - in my drawings, my walks, daily life. I have enjoyed learning the etymology of "curiosity". Historically, curious took quite a journey. In medieval times, it was almost an insult - suggesting nosiness or meddling in things best left alone, especially divine mysteries.

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.