When you think of creative inspiration, what’s the first thing that comes to mind? As a romantic, but angsty adolescent my greatest creative role models were Vincent VanGogh and Sylvia Plath - I was so drawn to the tortured artist troupe and truly believed I could only create meaningful artwork that was grounded in heartbreak and suffering.

Much of what I considered the greatest works of my teens and early 20s, were inspired by depression, disordered eating, and unstable relationships with equally as angsty boys. When I met my husband - the most stable and non-angsty man I have ever known - I worried that happiness would be the end of my serious artwork and resolved myself to crafting sweet little wearables and odds and ends for around the house.

That all changed when I gave birth to my son and all of the varied emotions that go with it. I was in awe of my body and of him. For the first time, I wanted my artwork to depict beauty instead of pain. I wrote poetry, I painted, I learned to weave - a new way of being vibrated within me and needed to be translated into art.

My son is about to turn seven and I am still inspired by him and the experiences of motherhood. But I have learned that creativity is a practice and that inspiration doesn’t just happen to me - I need to open myself up to it.

Over time, I’ve developed a few studio rituals that help me welcome inspiration:

1. Tidy up my workspace - I can’t focus when my painting desk is cluttered or my wool is in knots.

2. Light some incense - Our olfactory memories are so strong and incense always take me back to my adolescence, when I had boundless energy, an insatiable creative hunger, and ample time to explore.

3. Queue up my music - Like our sense of smell, music holds memories and emotions that nothing else seems to reach. Want to hear what my studio usually sounds like? Have a listen and subscribe on Spotify!