December has officially announced itself, and judging from Missy Parrot’s firm refusal to wear the Santa hat and Missy Dog’s tragic attempt at tolerating an elf costume last year, many of us are entirely convinced by the season. Honestly, that feels about right. This time of year gets loud, bright, busy and bossy, the kind of atmosphere that makes ND brains want to hide under a blanket with snacks and noise-cancelling headphones.

Read more on ND Art Club Substack here and here

A place for creative neurodivergent people to share inspiration, tips and support - self diagnosed is fine! Run by Jez Franck.

Resistance is one of my favourite things, when it is resistance to capitalist systems, that is! There’s another kind of resistance that shows up when you’re circling a good idea. Not the “I’m tired and would prefer to nap” kind, but the deeper, suspiciously dramatic kind. The kind that whispers: Not now. Not yet. Maybe never. Let’s reorganise the art supplies instead.

At Loch Trool, I boiled a handful of fallen acorns and watched the colour bloom. The ink darkened slowly - oak, peat, and patience - a reminder that creativity doesn’t always need speed or certainty, just presence.

I came to Scotland to get some space - to walk, listen, and think about what’s next. The plan was open-ended: just Nicola and I (and Missy Boo), a sketchbook, and the kind of silence you can hear in your bones. But, as these things go, peace didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat. The restlessness followed me north, packed neatly between my socks and sketchbook.

Neurodivergent Art Club is on this Thursday 2–4pm, then we’ll take a two-week break before returning with both the usual afternoon sessions and a new shorter early-evening slot, 6–7pm, starting in November. Same format, same gentle co-working space for creative brains that don’t run on factory settings. While I’m up here in Scotland surrounded by indecent amounts of moss and dramatic skies, I’ve been thinking about time.

We’re now well past the equinox - that brief, delicate point of balance in the year where day and night meet eye to eye. The hedgerows are heavy with berries, the evenings are cooling, and the energy around us is quietly shifting inward. So it feels like a good moment to say something I think many of us need to hear:

Lately in Neurodivergent Art Club, a few people have shared something that I think many of us know deeply: “I’m feeling directionless… hard to apply my mind to anything… still triggering post-exertional malaise… it’s hard to balance my long-neglected social needs with stretching my creative muscles when the basics already take most of my capacity.” “I feel like I’m going round and round in ever-decreasing circles… can’t seem to organise for toffee, or get anything meaningful done…”

I’ve just returned from a few dreamy, windy, colourful days at Green Gathering, where I had the joy of co-holding the Queer Space in the Campaigns Field. It was… a lot of things. Tender. Tiring. Hopeful. Hilarious. Full of connection, curiosity, wild weather, and the kind of community that grows when you make space for people to just be.

Quickly posting from a field to show you the Queer Dome, Green Gathering, in the Campaigns field Linky to more info here

Last week, someone in the Neurodivergent Art Club shared a reflection that struck a chord with others in the group - and with me! “I’m really enjoying making art and being creative in the group setting, but I’m finding it a challenge to get going at home.” They gave consent for suggestions - and the conversation that followed felt too rich not to share more widely.

Sometimes, the world is too much. Sometimes, your mind fogs over, your energy vanishes, or the climate breaks your heart. In those moments, planning fails. But preparing?That’s different. To prepare is to send something kind for your future self.Not a demand - a lifeline.Not a calendar full of boxes, but a handful of soft tools for when you need them most.

Some days, the very sight of a traditional to-do list feels like a trap. Every unchecked box whispers failure. Every item not crossed off becomes another tiny weight. For many neurodivergent creatives, to-do lists don’t work because they assume we’re operating on linear timelines, predictable energy, and stable executive function. So what if we made a different kind of list?

Mantle at God’s House Tower I’m very pleased to share that Mantle, one of the JourneySpiral artefacts, will be part of the upcoming exhibition Inside the Artist’s Studio: 20 Years of the Arches at God’s House Tower in Southampton. This exhibition is a celebration of the messy, magical, half-formed places where art begins - and often, where it continues to live.

Small Worlds is a giant installation of 3D spheres created by artists, communities, and schools in Hampshire takes over The Winchester Gallery – FREE EXHIBITION My piece, 'Threadwalker', will be part of the installation. Threadwalker is a small world held in the palm - part talisman, part compass. This sphere is a fragment of the JourneySpiral, inscribed with symbols from an imagined lost language that never quite belonged to empire.

A love note to the days that don’t go to plan