Foundations laid in Winter.
Foundations Laid in Winter
December has a way of changing the pace of everything.
Since my last post in November, I’ve travelled to Iceland, a place that feels both grounding and expansive. Its winter landscapes are stark and elemental, shaped by time and weather rather than urgency. Being there reminded me how much strength there is in what forms slowly. In the quiet, surrounded by shifting light and vast space, ideas surfaced gently, without demand.
Now back home, I’m settling into the softer rhythm of December. The days are short, the light is muted, and Christmas preparations are beginning to weave their way into daily life. It feels like a natural continuation of wintering - not a retreat, but a deepening. A time to gather thoughts, reflect on the year that’s closing, and create space for what wants to emerge next.
This season is quietly shaping my work in subtle but meaningful ways:
Observing before acting. Allowing ideas to remain open, unfinished, and unresolved.
Letting place leave its mark. Carrying Iceland’s sense of scale, stillness, and restraint into my thinking.
Honouring slower rhythms. Working with limited daylight and softer energy rather than pushing against it.
Creating space. Mentally and physically - for what needs time to grow.
As the festive season approaches, connection comes back into focus. Christmas brings conversation, shared moments, and the warmth of creative exchange. After weeks of introspection, those interactions feel especially nourishing and a reminder that creativity is both solitary and communal.
What I’m holding gently as the year closes:
Ideas in their early shape, not yet ready to be named.
A sense of direction that feels intentional rather than urgent.
Foundations forming quietly, beneath the surface.
An openness to what’s next, without needing full clarity.
Looking ahead, I can feel 2026 taking on its own tone. Steady, expansive, and grounded in everything this season is offering. Winter is doing its quiet work now, laying the groundwork for what will emerge when the light returns.
For now, I’m embracing this in-between space. Listening closely. Letting winter lead.
Nadolig Llawen - Merry Christmas
