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bloom after bloom after bloom after bloom

Naked salt watered skin

and skin watered by tears

the sound of tents being unzipped and poems being read

new friends across oceans, felt through screens

bloom after bloom after bloom after bloom

fingers sticky from toasted marshmallows

and plums fresh from the tree

the look of words on pages, written and underlined in black ink

his hands on her back and my mouth on his cheeks

and our arms around each other

pains that came both inevitable and unexpected

the deep earthy scent of tomato plants and failed bbqs 

and sweaty bodies exasperated by middy sun

the long, deep shadows and painterly pink skies of dawn and sunset.

As the days roll in to Autumn and the air turns a cool, crisp shades of orange and grey, we say goodbye to summer.

the time is now

The world is still strange and everyone seems to be in a space that feels unique to them. We’re a melting pot of circumstances, a sliding scale of ‘normal’. My house is no different - my husband and daughter are living relatively similar lives to BC (before covid), whilst my son and I navigate days/weeks/months that are pretty unrecognizable to before. Some moments it all feels completely fine, glorious even - other days we spin around each other trying to hold to the nearest object or person for dear life.

I’ve missed my work. In the beginning, its absence gave me something - space to focus on a different kind of creativity, time to look inwards, slow down and connect with the people I was hunkered up with.

Gauging the time to return to it has been hard, if I’m honest. When life feels like a rollercoaster and you’ve got no idea when the next peak is coming, changing anything can feel like a gamble. But at a very deep level, now more than ever I know what I do is extremely valuable. This art that is made from seeing what we hold dear, what we really have, what we love deeply, what really matters - it will outlast us all.

I spent these past few months focused on telling my own stories. Making my own art out of what matters and what I hold close, what I love. Creating somewhat prolifically, pouring and experimenting and channeling what it feels like, here in my new normal.

It’s time to step out again. To create for and with others, to learn new stories, make art out of someone else’s feelings and people and the things they have been holding on to. There’s a little fire in my belly when I write these words - the fire is a longing to create something new.

The world feels different. This is the blessing and the curse, right? I truly believe that we can celebrate by pulling each other closer, deeply inhaling all that we have and making art from our good intentions. To create some images that reflect some of the best of humanity because OMFG don’t we need that? Time for joy and connection and shouting from the rooftops IT’S ALL HERE, NOW. Now is the time to commemorate these things for the long days to come. HMU in the usual ways if you want to capture something with me.