There is a deep joy to find a passion and to work hard, every day, to become better at it. When this focus is on a practice that is mindful, our whole being finds a sense of peace and contentment. In yoga, we keep stretching and little by little our bodies respond. In art, we look and draw and look and paint, again and again, and our personal creativity develops. Working and persevering allow us to be in our own space, in our own mind. We live in troubled times. I have found myself retreating away from the horrors of media, who seem obsessed with talking with rising panic about even the smallest issue; the printed word full of judgment and intolerance and the brain numbing so-called reality programmes that seem so far away from decent “normality”. Art is a wonderful practice in mindfulness. In creating, we are held in the present and all other thoughts, like daily chores, anxieties and the ever-increasing buzz of the world, recede. Wherever one is on the creative journey, art enables u

“Time and reflection change the spirit little by little until we come to understand.” – Paul Cezanne I’ve just been spring cleaning my studio and feel freshly inspired. Although it’s a full-on job, it gives me time away from painting in my studio, to pause and reflect. It shows me, again, that creative ideas and development can come from anywhere. It was a beautiful spring day to clean out and reorganise my atelier, full of hope and promise which is just what an artist needs. It didn’t quite go to plan but then that is the way with artists. Dusting my glass shelves, of course, I became distracted. I house my treasures upon them. Those objects that I collect whilst on walks, travelling and gardening. These items help my progress through giving me new ideas and reminding me of a colour combination I love or a range of mark-making to explore. In these times of quiet contemplation, I always seem to be drawn to a different part of each item which gives me an endless supply of inspiration. I

“My sketchbook is a witness of what I am experiencing, scribbling things whenever they happen.” – Vincent Van Gogh Having a rather nomadic existence, adventuring between countries, means settling in the studio to work can be a challenge. So, my sketchbook becomes more important than ever. I love it; it comes with me wherever I go. It serves as a visual diary, notebook and collation of ideas and inspiration. Sketches, quick paintings, colour palette exploration and experimental play, make up my content. I don’t like to follow rules and conventions. On one occasion, I have held my sketchbook out of our Landcruiser’s window as we drive through a river of mud which was once a murram road, in Samburu. The pages became splattered with the rich red earth which was the ground for further work. Other examples are: pasting in paper-thin bark, rubbing sand into the paint and scratching into the page with a sharp-edged stone, which then I allow ink to pool in the crevices. I love to see the wide v

Many artists teach art as well as create. Sometimes it is for additional income, but I think, like me, most teach to share their love of their subject. When I teach and share my passion, ideas and concepts, I also extend my own learning. Living in France, I can go to the market and spend time chatting about a particular tomato, how it grows, how it tastes, recipes it suits. This weekly chatter gives a true understanding about the purchase and its possibilities. Yes, shopping can take a while! The joy is through the discussion, whilst savouring the smell and texture of the tomato and the glorious range of colours. The same is true for art. Sharing information and discussing knowledge, with passion and an inquiring mind, is the best way to extend learning. This discussion, like the tomato, should delight in engaging all the senses as this is how we understand art as a language. Too often art classes rely solely on copying, or an ABC of how to create one particular picture. I have heard o