All Blog posts
2025 in review: Defining Enough
2025 was a difficult year in many respects. Instead of dwelling on that, I thought I would review the year based on the theme I set at the start of the year - The Year of Enough.
Signal Not Found
Elm trunk picked out in mustard.
The suggestion of erased branches.
Light only falls so far.
Finding some intentionality amidst the scroll
The blog has taken a slight pause because I moved house. During all the stress and frantic packing, I relaxed by opening my phone and reading as much out of context information as I could until my brain felt fried. It wasn't particularly enjoyable and yet I kept doing it.
Tempestuous
Friction is the point
LLMs and generative AI may be easy, but the hard stuff is the point because the friction of art is where the magic is. Art is not a product to be instantly spat out. I've been thinking about this since I updated my site to include an AI disclaimer and before AI was as widespread as it is now. Any artist will tell you that the process of making art is where the real magic happens.
Clearings
Violent patches, forgotten space
where green is crushed,
where green shudders to mud,
where green becomes tarmac
The People Disagree
How not to make things perfectly zine
Recently, I've been enjoying making zines. There's something fun about using your hands to make an object, especially when so much of our lives are digital. I've added a few one pagers to my projects page and itch.io.
Tubers
becoming more than simple root by
breathing in sweet loam
rolling a body into a pebble
churning under the surface
while dreaming deep in fever
of the power to divide
endlessly, divide endlessly
while never blinking
Barometer Falling
I've been the forest groaning as the winds pick up,
a lizard panicking from rock to cool rock as drops fall
like meteors onto the cracked earth. Mostly, you've
been a leaky fishing boat anchored outside the bay,
sinking a little deeper into the churning horizon with a sigh.
Waves slap higher and harder, evening darkens too soon.
I've wanted to be a life raft but have found myself
a hollow statue instead, limestone filling with water.
Shall we stay put, dance a slow waltz, your head
on my chest? Shall we linger as sparks appear around
our eyebrows, as our hair lifts in sudden static surprise?
Or lets throw on some thrash metal, pull apart our house
brick by brick, rip apart each and every supporting wall.
Either way, we'll soon both be sea glass, cloudy
emerald pools where lightning raged against the sand.