The Process

The spark, the mess, the questions, and the quiet moments of discovery.

My practice is guided by the inner pull to create simply because it feels meaningful. Play sits at the heart of this, reminding me to stay curious, to make mistakes, and to embrace the unexpected. From scribbles on my idea wall to experiments in fabric and plaster, this space is a reflection of how my work grows and shifts through exploration.

Intrinsic motivation

Intrinsic motivation is that inner spark that pushes us to create or act simply because we love it — because it brings us joy, curiosity, or a sense of meaning. It’s very different from extrinsic motivation, which is all about doing things for rewards, approval, or recognition.

I have always been one to want to understand my mind, to research and gather some kind of understanding. The deeper emotional fulfilment in the creative process than when creating for external validation. That really resonated with me, seeing these patterns in my own journey.

When I have lost touch with that inner drive, I have felt stuck — caught in cycles of burnout, procrastination, and comfort-zone safety. Without that spark, it felt harder to grow, harder to open myself up to change. As I kept working on my practice, letting my mind release control and the need for perfection became a distant thought, pushing past the limits of comfort and breaking out of my safety zone. Time passed and I found joy in the process itself. By loosening my grip on control, I was able to free myself from anxiety’s tight hold.

I discovered that mistakes weren’t failures at all, but actually catalysts for growth — emotionally, psychologically, and even in terms of healing childhood wounds. Mistakes carried lessons. They sparked curiosity, ignited discipline, and made the whole process feel alive again.

Embracing the unpredictable and finding beauty in imperfection became transformative for me. My intrinsic motivation flourished, and instead of fearing the unknown, I began to chase it.

Play in Practice

Play brings a sense of freedom, but it can also feel intimidating, because it asks me to embrace the vulnerability of the unknown. When I allow myself to follow playfulness instead of perfection, I find deeper connections — with my work, my audience, and myself. In those moments, anxiety softens, and creativity expands.

Through playing with materials, the cracking of plaster, stretching fabric, or simply letting things unravel — these actions invite curiosity, spark memories, and stir nostalgia. Sometimes this brings forgotten childhood moments to the surface. Other times it just reminds me to loosen up and follow where the process wants to go.

What I’ve come to understand is that play in my practice is more than experimentation — it’s also healing. It bridges the distance between my inner child and who I am now, her joy still echoes through me every time I create.

By weaving play into my work, I’ve rediscovered not only a renewed love for making — a reminder that creation itself can be joyful.

Idea wall

In my opinion, keeping ideas tucked away in sketchbook or notes on a phone, sometimes makes us forget. Written down and then forgotten as we get distracted by all the other things in the world. Forgetting the brilliant ideas and not so brilliant ideas, ideas are still ideas, and in my experience something when ideas are allowed to foster and grow, they can become extraordinary.

So, one day when I was having a creative block, I opened all my sketchbooks, read all the notes on my phone. Then, tore out those pages, cleared a wall in my studio and put them up, using paint and markers, creating a dedicated space for my thoughts and ideas. I let them escape my brain, acknowledging them and letting them sit in their own space. And no, I don’t go to it every day, I don’t always go up and read all the ideas. But they are there, present, and existing in my everyday space.

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