Over the past week, I have been focusing on developing new work for the final exhibition. As the residency draws closer to its conclusion, it has been exciting to see ideas begin to take shape and evolve. This stage feels both reflective and energising, a chance to bring together the experiences, conversations, and discoveries that have emerged throughout the residency into a new body of work.

I have recently been reading Phenomenology of Perception by Maurice Merleau-Ponty and, although it is a book I am still slowly making my way through, many of its ideas have stayed with me. It has helped me find words for something I have long felt intuitively through painting: that our relationship with the world begins not through thought alone, but through feeling, sensation, and presence. Painting, for me, begins in a place that exists before language. It emerges from emotions, memories, and subtle inner movements that cannot always be explained but can be deeply felt. Through layers of color, movement, and atmosphere, I seek to create spaces where viewers can slow down, reconnect with themselves, and return to the immediacy of experience. Merleau-Ponty’s understanding of perception as a way of opening ourselves to the richness and mystery of existence resonates deeply with my practice. I see painting as an act of attention, a practice of listening. Rather than representing a fixed reality, my work invites an encounter with feeling, intuition, and wonder. For me, painting is ultimately an act of remembering: remembering how to feel, how to listen, and how to be fully present within the unfolding experience of being alive.

Starting the second week of the Hands On residency program, and I’ve already had some realizations and really meaningful insights. During our last session, we spoke with Maria Positano. As I was explaining my process, I mentioned that I wasn’t sure whether I should include text or poems alongside my work to help explain it. She said something that has stayed with me ever since: not everything needs to be explained, the work itself speaks. That thought has been sitting with me for days. I think, for a long time, part of me felt the need to prove that what I was making was important, almost as if I needed to provide evidence or justification for it. But why? Why did I feel the need to over-explain something that could already be felt? Maybe some things are simply meant to be experienced rather than translated into words. As I continue reading The Other Side, I’ve come across reflections that resonate deeply with the way I experience and create art. Lately, I’ve been realizing that the more expectation, ambition, and ego I bring into the process, the less space I leave for creativity to flow naturally. One quote from the book that I absolutely love says: “Perhaps this is how inspiration arrives: by letting go of expectation, of ambition, of the ego. By allowing unexpected elements in. By not always knowing the answer, or shifting the tenor of the question.” And I think that’s exactly what I’m learning right now, to trust the unknown a little more.

Recently I’ve been spending a lot of time sketching, reflecting, and researching around themes of intuition, emotion, womanhood, and spirituality. I’ve been reading The Other Side, which explores journeys through art and the spirit world, and it’s really been influencing the way I think about painting and emotional connection. Although I’ve only just started the book, I don’t think I’ve ever read something that feels so deeply connected to my practice and the way I experience painting. Shoutout to Farnaz for recommending this book! It’s made me realise how painting can become a way of returning to ourselves, a space where we can slow down, listen inwardly, and reconnect with emotions that often get lost in everyday life especially in a world that feels increasingly fast, disconnected, and focused on productivity. Through my recent sketches, I’ve been trying to work in a more instinctive and intuitive way, letting emotions, memories, and subconscious feelings come through more freely instead of over-controlling the process. For me, this connects deeply to the idea of developing a more human future. I think we really need spaces that allow people to slow down, feel, reflect, and reconnect with their inner world. That’s something I’m trying to explore both in my paintings and in the way I approach creativity overall.