What’s On the Studio Table

Lately, my studio table has been quietly full.

Pastels scattered and worn from use.

Paper marked, smudged, returned to again.

Two small works resting side by side not finished in a hurry, but allowed to arrive in their own time.

This is what my days look like right now.

There is something grounding about seeing the tools laid out, evidence of repetition, of hands returning to familiar movements. Colour chosen, softened, adjusted. The slow work of noticing what feels true and letting it stay.

These pieces are not declarations.

They are responses.

They come from sitting with the land, with memory, with the way light moves across a familiar place. They hold quiet scenes, edges of trees, open skies, moments that pass quickly unless we pause long enough to see them.

For now, they simply live here with me on the table, in the making. In time, they will find their way into the studio space I’m preparing to open. But today, I wanted to let you glimpse the work as it is now: unfinished, unpolished, resting between sessions.

This is how most of what I create begins not as something to offer, but as something to attend to.

Just the steady work of showing up.

Trimming, adjusting, returning.

Letting the light do what it does best.