I’ve been hiding away with my inky words this winter and falling in love with it all over again. The power of this scribbling habit to get out what’s really going on is quite extraordinary! And you know what? The less I’m able to read it, the better it gets.

At times like these, when the big things of life are all ferociously mixed up and bewildering, I find it helpful to try and remember what is precious.

Fiercely optimistic and faced with the trashing of everything we think we know, it is my tendency to fight for life. I am pigheaded for joy, in that respect.

In March of this year, I had one last face-to-face conversation with my (precious) studio mates on the day we all said goodbye to each other for an undefined lockdown time. Soulful, clever people I enjoy seeking out, and who I would dearly miss. I shared the idea that this period of time might help us define what’s worth preserving. What it is we’re fighting for. True, plenty at the moment is hard to pin down, and trying to figure it out is exhausting.