Hi everyone,
I've always loved gardening because it feels like creativity in slow motion.
A bit like painting with the land.
You plant something, tend to it, and then wait. Sometimes for weeks. Sometimes for months.
Some things are already happening beneath the surface, even when nothing looks different yet.
I'm not always as good at staying with that kind of time.
June is reminding me to try
Studio Notes
I'll be reducing my hours over the summer as I take some family time and lean into a slower rhythm for a few months.
Because of that, my next intake for new art therapy clients will be in the fall. If you've been thinking about working together, you're welcome to reach out and join the waitlist.
I've also been sitting with an idea that I'd love your thoughts on.
One of the things I hear often is that people miss having a place to simply create. Not a class. Not a workshop. Just a welcoming space where creativity can happen alongside connection.
I'm wondering about creating a Friends of the Studio membership—regular open studio times where you could bring your own project, enjoy a cup of tea, make something with your hands, and spend time with others doing the same.
No instruction. No pressure. Just creative community.
If that sparks something for you, I'd love to hear.
Something quietly forming
While summer is just beginning, I've found myself already turning toward the darker months.
There’s a new workshop series taking shape— less like “making a project” and more like gathering pieces of a life slowly, over time.
We’ll be creating a personal book of what matters enough to keep. Stories that have stayed with you. Recipes that hold memory. Traditions, places, lessons, small rituals, inherited things, and things you’ve made your own.
Each month will carry a different theme, something like a thread we follow together—loosely held, gently explored, added to over time.
Not rushed. Not complete. Just a growing collection of what has shaped you.
More soon, as it continues to unfold but thinking an October start.
And maybe this is what I keep noticing in all of it right now:
Nothing in nature is trying to prove it’s growing.
It’s just doing what it does—quietly, steadily, in its own timing, even when nothing looks different yet.
We don’t need to prove anything—just to continue, simply and slowly, in our own way.
I hope you’re finding small ways to be in the season.
And if you’d like a little inspiration, I’ve included a wee list of prompts below!
Hope that helps,
Lora
