The art of… making green pasta dough
In a world of convenience, I am going out of my way to do things slowly, even if, yes, my time could be used elsewhere. I could buy the ready-made-pasta and use my time for writing this blog post, or filing in invoices for my business, doing laundry or a million other adulting jobs.
How sad is that?
To think making something as beautiful as making pasta would be a waste of time, since this item (or a cheap copy) could be found on some shop shelves & isn’t valuable enough to claim my time and energy.
These aren’t words said to me directly - these were thoughts that crossed my mind the day I decided I wanted to spend the afternoon making pasta with wild garlic I foraged last year and was still in the freezer, and to capture images and videos as I do so. Years of making leather goods by hand have taught me so much about making things slowly and properly, and the way this is now almost an act of rebellion against this world of more, more, faster.
Everything has a price tag, a set value - except art. If I change my mindset, and look at cooking as an art form, then no, making green pasta dough isn’t a waste of time.
Trees, tattoos and burnout
A walk in the forest soothes my anxious mind, fills me with hope, inspiration and a yearning to slow down and immerse myself in the beauty of a moment, suspended in the present, unspoilt by regrets from the past or worries about the future. I find joy in being.
There’s no other place that has the same effect over my mind and soul as a forest… especially an evergreen forest enveloped in fog. This sight, even from a distance, awakens a deep longing within me; something raw and primal. A hurt that moves me to tears, yet fills me with warmth and elation, like the aching desire and happiness awakened within you when you fall in love.
I can’t put this feeling into words without beginning to sound absolutely insane, but I hope that if there’s something that stirs your spirit in this way, you understand what I’m trying to describe.
A day of impulsive creativity
“A slice of wild berry cake on an elegant, vintage style plate, showcasing the rich, purple and mauve layers of berry compote and cream… the abundance of wild berry fruit in various stages of ripeness, delicate berry blossoms, scattered flower petals and wild flowers create a whimsical, nature-inspired setting that reflects the atmosphere of a late summer evening feast.”
It’s hard to describe these images without tapping into my long-abandoned passion for creative writing. There’s so much poetry in the subtle light, the contrast, the rich colors… I hope these images resonate with you, and inspire you to create.
What would you do if you weren’t afraid?
I came across this quote by Spencer Johnson somewhere recently and it stuck with me like gum under a school desk. I thought about it so much, I ended up writing on one of my watercolour paintings and framing it. This quote prompted me to take a good, hard look at my life and really think about what my vision for 2025, or better yet, my life, was.
Welcome, October!
My soul seems to come to life in autumn. It is a season of slow mornings, wanderings, and self reflection. I find summer exhausting and overstimulation, and the arrival of autumn feels like a comfortable embrace.
On artful living
Through this journal, I want to capture the joys of small, quiet moments, peaceful days spent in solitude, and the creative 'coping' mechanisms that help me navigate life whilst searching for its purpose.