My craft is not portable but my creativity travels. It makes its way into my journal, into my photo taking, into my writing, into my doodling. The only constant is that I need to use my hands. My hands are precious to me. They were my lifeline when my world was upside down. I remember those middle of the night visits into our garden, laying down my anxiety on the grass... Sensing each and every sprig beneath my hands was my only way to connect to a reality that had escaped me. Today my hands are my anchor and they are my way to freedom.
This is my colour of choice to express balance. It is neither dull, nor blasting. It is dignified, it carries depth and a certain coolness as if to say I have got a perspective on things. I am not carried by the torrent of my thoughts or the wheel of my emotions. I am here, right in the middle of it, and if feels fine.