today

               s.u.n.d.a.y.  =  sunshine. coffee. Cameron. football practice.. rain. unravelling.
                                         sunset. red wine. soft lights. family. tired
                                                   body. tired eyes. deep sleep....

.taking time out.

                                                                                    

I have neglected this space.

But the ocean was calling my name. The clouds reflected onto the silver waters; grey, misty and cold. The wind whisked me away from reality onto an island that brought tropical rainstorms and sombre, moody skies.

Momentarily on a quiet Friday morning while my friends were still sleeping, I walked miles down a somewhat deserted beach. I watched the toned woman practicing her morning yoga, meditating and breathing within the oceans reach. I watched the mother and child collect shells along the shore. I watched couples stroll hand in hand. And while I watched life pass by around me, I breathed in my moment. I let the crisp air kiss my skin as my shutter clicked away and rejuvenated my mind as I wrote words that freely filled the pages of my journal.

So yes, this space was neglected. But just know that I have not disappeared. I just took a little time out for a little bit of discovery, unravelling and adventure.

                                                                                                        

.a Utopian in East London.

There is this pleading voice echoing in my head, an urge and rush of adrenaline. It had been lingering and hovering over me these past few weeks and I want to share.

I have been thinking about my last year in university. The previous years had already been a challenge and the last year had raised its stakes. I was scared for what would happen after, yet confident that my creativity would take me somewhere.  I walked with my head held up high, after two years of constructive criticism, and somewhat berating as well, I decided to finish the year without tears. After all, I was showing them who I was as an artist, who I was as a designer. I had my brave boots on and succumbed to their challenges. There was a world that I created where the design strategies were mine and my voice constantly backfired and exploded with reasoning and purpose. My fingers worked with my imagination and I became the character I created, that old Utopian, a wanderer walking down the paths of East London. Needless to say, it ended up as the best digital concept work I have ever done. So now two years have passed, and the folder that holds these designs are constantly viewed. I remember how creatively passionate I was, where sleepless nights were not a chore but a genuine commitment to my craft.

For so long, inspiration has always come from other people, other artists and designers, but today I want to inspire myself. I want to believe that the person who created that world before still exists. I want to remember that I can do this, I would like to be brave again and believe that my art matters.

Because it does. My art matters. It is part of who I am.

.and the fingers found my paints.

Day twenty four.
Behind on the photography and this is why.

Life should be about spontaneity.
It should be about not having to think and ponder about things too much.
Thoughts turn into worries and then worries turn into doubts.
Empty canvases have been sitting in the spare room for months.
And for months I have tried to convince myself that they needed to be filled.
And for months I have doubted my ideas.
Then in one moment, I felt the urge. No questions were asked, my brush just headed straight to this little piece of canvas paper.
Nothing with hidden meanings, no secret depth of reasoning in the process. Just my pencil, paints and paper.

Simplicity. Black and white.

An emotional abstraction where perhaps it is only I who can feel the emotions within the strokes, but nevertheless, it is a piece of me. A piece of me I am unbelieveably sharing freely, another layer that I seem to be unravelling.

Now I believe that my tendency to overthink prevents my ability to create, 
and perhaps simplicity (and courage) is all I have ever needed.

.good things come to an end…. till it comes around again .

I know I’ve written about this wonderful woman before.

But I found that I have never written about my Unravelling journey.

This journey was one where words cannot possibly be enough to fully describe the unimaginable creative and personal growth I experienced. What seemed like a long eight week journey ended quickly, but throughout this time I have learned that there is more to life that just regrets, negativity, and that I can let go of that constant resistance to be who I am. I can let go of the remnants of the past that cloud my soul and I can embrace my creativity. I can believe that I am the artist I want to be and that I am.

I have ‘met’ and connected with so many wonderful people through this course, and I have yet to meet them in person. But we shared the same journey, and this…. this is what made the journey so much more enjoyable. A wonderful tribe of women have entered my life unexpectedly and I could have not have asked for anything else. So as much as I have thanked them, I will do so forever.

Oh, I can’t wait till September. Unravelling II, I will try and be patient waiting for you to come around.

.letting go.

Her words are so true. Susannah Conway  says a lot of words that mean more to me than a lot of people would understand. She has taught me a lot of things, I never imagined one woman’s encouragement could be as powerful as they are. Somehow she has come into my life and I could not be more grateful that I already am.


"It’s letting go of expectation.
 Letting go of fear.
 Letting go of doubt.
 Letting go of the hurts.
 Letting go of the disappointments.
 Letting go of the needs.
 Letting go of the stories.
 Letting go of the untruths.
 Letting go of that time you did that thing you shouldn’t have done.
 Letting go of feeling foolish, knowing you were just young. Unformed. Learning. Trying.
 Letting go of the need to be perfect. Correct. Proper.
 Letting go of what’s expected of you, even if they’re your own expectations. Especially then.
 Letting go of the voice in your head that tells you you are shit.
 Letting go of the hatred of your skin. It’s just flesh. Just bones. Just your transportation on earth.
 Letting go of the need to control what happens.
 Letting go of feeling bad because you’re not letting go enough.

 I’m starting to get it now. I really am."

.she was who she was.

Remember her?
She’s still there. Deep down, she’s still there.

.uneasy.

Week four of Unravelling has me looking at memories, looking through old photos and reminiscing and then I find that my tummy starts churning with every London album I open up.
I miss the city, the fast paced hustle and bustle. I miss how you can take a turn into a park and feel like you have escaped from the city in a matter of minutes. I miss being able to walk everywhere. Oh, the walking… my heart aches for this. We could spend hours walking around the city without a destination, without a reason except to just walk. I miss the fact that things work, that people know what they are doing, that people understand what they are doing. I miss drinks at the pub, especially in the summer when people are chasing the sun in the beer gardens. I miss spring and autumn, where the air is crisp. I miss Tesco, Primark and H&M. I actually miss my tiny little flat, with it’s creaky floors and lack of space, I really do.

Guess life really is how it’s supposed to be. You miss the little things that made you happy. I wanted to leave so badly and here I am yearning for it.

London was good to me, how can I not miss it?

.my feet .

This morning, my feet found themselves on familiar grounds.

My feet remembered walking through this journey twelve years ago.

My feet stood firmly but supported my knees as they began to buckle beneath me.

This morning, I watched my baby brothers feet walk down a platform receiving his high school awards and tomorrow night his feet will be walking towards his future after his graduation.

His feet will be taking him on endless journeys through his next step of his life.

….. and my feet will be walking right next to his with every step he takes.