Opening the door changed everything.

On getting unstuck, embracing play and remembering why the work matters.

March has held an unexpected shift.

In opening the studio to others, I thought I was offering something outward - space, guidance, a way into the process. But somewhere in the middle of hosting, explaining, demonstrating…something turned back toward me. Because if I’m honest, before the workshops began, things had started to feel a little stuck.

Not dramatically. Not in a way that anyone else would necessarily notice. But in that quiet, internal way where the work becomes heavier than it needs to be. Where you start reaching for outcomes instead of staying with the process. Where the sense of play slips out of reach.

Teaching has a way of revealing that.

Standing in the studio, encouraging others to loosen their grip, to experiment, to follow curiosity instead of control - I could hear the dissonance. The gentle nudge of: are you still doing this yourself? And the answer, at first, was not quite.

But something shifts when you say things out loud. When you return to first principles. When you watch someone else take a risk with their work and remember that you’re allowed to do the same. So I began again. Not with pressure, but with permission.

To play. To make without needing it to resolve. To follow something small and see where it leads. And somewhere in that, the weight lifted.

The work feels lighter again. More open. There’s movement where there was resistance. Curiosity where there was hesitation.

It’s not that everything has suddenly become easy. It’s that it feels alive again.

There’s a particular kind of relief in recognising that you haven’t lost your way, you’ve just drifted a little from the part of the process that matters most. And that you can return. Gently. Practically. By doing the work differently.

In its own way, the studio has reset itself.

Not through a grand change, but through a simple remembering.

Why this matters. How I want to work. What the process actually asks of me. And yes, there’s more smiling happening here again. Which feels like its own kind of measure.

Something to hold:

If your work has started to feel stuck or heavy, this might be worth keeping close:

You’re allowed to return to the beginning. As many times as you need.

Play isn’t separate from serious work, it’s often the way back into it. Curiosity can carry you further than control ever will.

Sometimes the act of sharing what you know reveals what you’ve forgotten to practise.

You don’t need to overhaul everything. Small shifts in how you show up can change the entire feeling of the work.

And if nothing else:

You can loosen your grip. You can experiment again. You can find your way back to enjoyment without losing depth.

The work is still yours. The process is still there. You’re allowed to meet it differently - again and again.