October Art Witch Journal: Creative Symbolism

Art Witch Desk covered in Art Supplies and Journals

Hello creative alchemists,

As the new moon rises and we step into October’s shifting tides, I welcome you into this month’s Art Witch Journal. This is our gathering place, a moment to pause, breathe, and align with the unseen threads that weave through art, magic, and daily life.

This season brings both balance and intensity: eclipses, equinox energy, super moons, and the steady hum of transformation beneath it all. It feels like standing at a threshold, one foot in shadow and one in light, asked to trust the flow while holding close what truly matters.

Wherever you are reading this in your studio, curled up with a cuppa, or catching a quiet moment between the busyness of life, may these words offer reflection, nourishment, and inspiration for your own practice.

Grab a cuppa and settle in.

Cuppa & Catch Up - Personal Reflections, Community Connections, and Studio Life

This past month has been a challenging one for me personally. I’ve been navigating a flare-up of symptoms that has kept me away from the studio, making it hard to show up for my own practice and live up to the routines I share here. Some days, simply being present with my art has felt like too much, and that has been a tough space to sit with.

On the practical side, I’ve finally managed to arrange community transport to get me to and from appointments in my wheelchair. The logistics have been tricky, but I’m hopeful that this will make life a little smoother going forward.

One bright spot has been the Gardening sessions at our Community Garden. These have been nourishing in more ways than one, feeding both my soul and my diet. There’s something deeply grounding about wheeling down to pick fresh produce and bringing it back to my apartment to cook on the spot. The chance to connect with other residents has been equally precious. Living with a disability and chronic health issues can be isolating, so this sense of community has been incredibly important.

I’ve also been planning a piece for the Merri-bek Summer Show. The theme is Love in Crisis. I had hoped to submit my Kintsugi of the Soul collection, but works must have been completed in 2025, so I’m now creating something entirely new. Watch this space!

I’m hoping to attend an Art Workshop at the local community house this week as well. Like the gardening group, it’s a space where I can connect with others, share ideas, and feel that sense of creative community that is so important. It’s one of the benefits of living in Women’s Housing; they recognise the value of community and connection.

On a more personal note, I had the joy of attending my granddaughter’s school play last week. It had been a while since I’d spent time with them, and it was wonderful to share in the fun and excitement of the production. With school holidays now underway, I’m looking forward to spending a couple more days with them later this week.

Art Witch Musings – Chapter Six

Navigating the Unseen: Symbols, Dreamwork, and Creative Alchemy

Even in months when the studio feels far away, the unseen currents of creativity are still flowing. Beneath the surface of everyday life, beneath the brushstrokes and the clay, the threads of the unseen hum steadily, insistently. They are currents older than time, older than thought, older than words. They move in cycles, in symbols, in the cadence of dreams, and in the alchemy of transformation. To step into them is to step sideways from the ordinary world and into a liminal rhythm where intuition, instinct, and insight are the only guides.

For me, these currents are both map and companion. Theosophy, the occult, and esoteric study are not dusty relics of the past, they are languages of connection, tools for navigating the invisible. They are lenses that allow me to read the patterns of the world and the symbols hidden within it. Although, I do not follow tradition blindly. I do not worship text over intuition, nor ritual over revelation. I enter these currents as a conversation: I bring my body, my energy, my attention, and I ask questions. Answers come not in lectures or words, but in images that appear in dreams, in repeated shapes, in subtle shifts of energy or light, in the pull of colour or texture.

Symbols are the language through which my work listens and speaks. A spiral scratched into clay, a streak of gold across a page, a thread twisted through fabric, they are both vessel and key. They hold memory, intention, and magic. I pay attention to how symbols appear, how they echo across media, across time, across the liminal spaces where my art breathes. In this way, my work becomes a spell of observation, a meditation, a translation of the unseen into form.

Dream work is central to this practice. Dreams do not simply inspire; they instruct. They guide the rhythm of the studio, the selection of materials, the shape of a piece yet unborn. Archetypes rise from the unconscious, bringing both comfort and challenge, and I engage with them as I would with a trusted companion. I transcribe, sketch, and mark their presence. I honour their messages by letting them shape the work without forcing clarity, without insisting on literal interpretation.

Spiritual alchemy informs every aspect of my process. Not the sort that promises gold or power in the worldly sense, but the inner alchemy of transformation, the transmutation of pain into image, fatigue into texture, isolation into communion. I work in stages of dissolution and recombination, layering and un-layering, allowing materials to speak their own truths. My studio is the alchemist’s lab; my hands, the instruments; my attention, the fire that transforms raw matter into something charged with meaning.

The sacred feminine flows through this practice as both lineage and guiding principle. I trace the unrecorded histories of women who practiced magic in secret, who wove spells into daily life, who left traces in textiles, herbals, and symbols. I do not attempt to reconstruct them; instead, I commune with their echoes, threading their presence into my work. It emerges in texture, in repetition, in rhythm. It emerges in the reverence with which I approach each material, each mark, each gesture.

Magic, in my practice, is inseparable from politics. To wield knowledge, to honour unseen forces, to embody a form of wisdom that refuses erasure, this is resistance. Every mark I make is a declaration that the unseen matters, that women’s voices matter, that disability, intuition, and devotion are not optional; they are radical. The magic of art is a reclamation of agency, a quiet revolution enacted in studio corners and liminal spaces.

Symbols, alchemy, and dreamwork converge to create pieces that are both talisman and testimony. Each work carries residue of the unseen currents, the layered conversations between self and other, visible and invisible, spirit and matter. A piece is never merely a painting or sculpture; it is a spell cast in devotion to insight, transformation, and the honouring of thresholds. It is a record of time spent listening, noticing, and translating.

Yet, even as the work takes form, the process continues. The studio is never silent. The currents keep moving. The symbols speak anew with every glance, every touch. I am always reading, always attuning, always engaged in the slow, recursive dance that is my practice.

This chapter of work, this weaving of occult, spiritual, and symbolic threads, is not an end, nor a revelation fully realised. It is a living continuum, a meditation, a conversation with forces that do not rush. It is devotion embodied, patience enshrined, and the subtle, profound acknowledgment that art, at its most potent, is not separate from life, magic, or the sacred.

To work in this way is to stand at a threshold. To be both maker and medium. To trust that the unseen will inform the seen, and that the act of creation itself is a spell that shapes not only the work but the artist, and perhaps, in some small way, the world around them.

Art Witch Desk with Oracle Cards, Journal and Cuppa

Artist of the Season – Faith Ringgold

Story Quilts, Resistance, and the Power of Visual Narrative

This season I’m honouring the extraordinary Libran artist, author, and activist Faith Ringgold (1930–2024). Born and raised in Harlem, New York, Ringgold grew up surrounded by creativity, her mother was a fashion designer, her father a storyteller and it was in this environment that her lifelong relationship with fabric, colour, and narrative first began. She went on to study art and education at City College of New York, later teaching while developing a practice that would weave together painting, quilting, sculpture, performance, and writing.

Ringgold’s work is uncompromising in its honesty and deeply generous in its vision. Her early series, The American People (1963–67), painted at the height of the civil rights movement, reflects directly on racial violence, social upheaval, and the fight for equality. Perhaps the most famous piece from this series, American People #20: Die (1967), is a searing portrayal of chaos, grief, and resilience. It remains one of the most striking works of the 20th century, a raw and urgent call to witness.

From the 1980s onwards, Ringgold turned increasingly to her now-iconic story quilts. Works like Tar Beach (1988) blend painting, pieced fabric, and hand-written text to tell stories of Black family life, dreams, and freedom. Quilting, historically dismissed as “women’s work”, became a radical medium in her hands, transforming domestic craft into political and spiritual art. These quilts are visual talismans, carrying both ancestral memory and imaginative flight. Tar Beach was later adapted into a children’s book, ensuring her vision could be shared across generations.

Her creative reach didn’t stop there. Ringgold wrote children’s books such as Aunt Harriet’s Underground Railroad in the Sky and My Dream of Martin Luther King, as well as her memoir, We Flew Over the Bridge. Across every form she touched, the same threads run through resistance, storytelling, visibility, and transformation.

For me, what makes Ringgold so resonant this season is how her art stands at the threshold of the visible and invisible. She gave form to what was often silenced or unseen, the lived experiences of Black women, the resilience of communities, the power of dreams. Her quilts and paintings blur the boundaries between art and craft, personal and political, memory and imagination. They remind me that art is both a ritual of remembrance and a spell of becoming.

Faith Ringgold’s legacy is a reminder that our creativity is never separate from our politics, our healing, or our spiritual work. Her practice shows us that we can take the most ordinary of materials, fabric, thread, story and charge them with power, beauty, and resistance. This season, I’m carrying her lesson that art can hold memory, demand justice, and imagine liberation all at once.

 Art Journal Prompt - Symbols as Thresholds

Exploring Your Dreams and Symbols Through Visual Journaling

This month, I invite you to explore the symbols that appear in your own life as guides and thresholds.

Think of Faith Ringgold’s story quilts, each image, colour, and fragment of fabric becomes more than material; it becomes memory, resistance, and imagination stitched into form. In your own journal, allow symbols to emerge in the same way: not as static images, but as living companions.

Begin by reflecting on a recent dream, repeated shape, or recurring image that has caught your attention. Don’t overthink it, it might be a spiral, a bird, a doorway, a piece of fabric, or even a phrase someone spoke.

On your page, translate this symbol into visual form. You could draw it, collage it, stitch it, or layer colours and textures until it takes shape. Let it repeat, fragment, or morph. Allow the materials themselves to guide you, just as alchemy transforms one state into another.

Once the image is there, sit with it and ask:

·         What threshold does this symbol represent?

·         What am I leaving behind, and what am I stepping toward?

·         How does this image balance the visible and invisible in my life right now?

Write a few lines alongside your work, not as an explanation but as a conversation, the beginning of a dialogue with the unseen currents moving through your own creative practice.

Remember: this isn’t about creating a polished piece. It’s about listening, noticing, and honouring the subtle languages that want to speak through you.

Art Journal Prompt

Little Witchy Things

Practical Magic for Daily Life and Creative Connection

As we move into this new month, I’ve gathered a few small practices to help you attune to the subtle currents of life and creativity. These are gentle invitations to notice, reflect, and bring magic into everyday moments.

One way to connect with the unseen is by mapping your currents. Pay attention to recurring symbols, sensations in your body, or patterns in your dreams. Capture them in a journal, sketchbook, or with simple shapes and colours. By observing these threads, you strengthen your awareness of the energies guiding your creativity and life.

Another practice is embodying intention in ordinary actions. Whether you’re washing dishes, brewing tea, or watering a plant, infuse the moment with presence, gratitude, or a whispered intention. These small, mindful acts transform everyday routines into threads of magic, grounding you in the rhythm of life and creativity.

You can also explore symbolic offerings. Choose a small object, a stone, feather, leaf, or ribbon, that resonates with your current energy or aspiration. Hold it, notice its texture, colour, and weight, and place it somewhere meaningful in your home, studio, or altar. Let it serve as a reminder of the energy you wish to cultivate this month.

Finally, listen to your dreams as collaborators in your creative practice. Before sleep, set an intention or ask a question. Upon waking, note any images, symbols, or impressions. Allow these messages to inspire your art, journaling, or daily reflections. Dreams are guides that speak in a language of texture, colour, and subtle energy, pay attention, and they will inform your creative path.

Art Witch Desk

Cycles of Craft - Libra Season, Eclipses, and Astrological Guidance for October

We enter Libra Season with a bang! The month begins under the Solar Eclipse and Spring Equinox on September 21 and 22, a powerful alignment that invites both reflection and renewal. The eclipse asks us to trust ourselves and our inner guidance, while the equinox brings the balance of light and dark, marking a perfect moment to plant seeds for what we wish to grow over the coming months. Together, these energies set the stage for intentional creation, grounding, and alignment.

On September 24, Mars enters Scorpio, bringing a deep, focused intensity to our actions and desires. Mars in Scorpio encourages us to move with determination, dive beneath the surface of situations, and confront what we’ve been avoiding. This energy can fuel transformation, but it asks for patience and trust in the process, rather than forcing outcomes.

Looking ahead, October 7 brings a Super Full Moon in Aries, illuminating our passions, courage, and personal drives. This is a moment of heightened energy and clarity, a chance to release what no longer serves and step more fully into your authentic power. Around the same time, Mercury enters Scorpio, sharpening intuition, deepening conversations, and encouraging us to communicate with honesty, insight, and emotional depth.

On October 13, Venus moves into Libra, softening our relationships and interactions with harmony, beauty, and grace. This energy highlights diplomacy, self-care in partnership, and the art of finding balance within connection. It’s a gentle reminder that nurturing others begins with nurturing ourselves.

Finally, the New Moon in Libra on October 21 offers a fresh start in alignment with balance, fairness, and creative partnership. This lunar cycle invites reflection on where harmony is needed in our lives and what intentions we wish to cultivate as we move toward the light half of the year. It is a time to plant seeds, both in art and life, trusting that what we sow now will grow into meaningful, radiant expression.

New Moon, Eclipse, Equinox

Oracle Insights - Tuning Into Your Own Balance and Intuition This Month

This month’s energies invite us to pause, listen, and find balance within shifting ground. For October, I suggest a three-card spread that mirrors the themes of Libra season.

The Spread

·         What do I need to surrender to right now?

·         What is seeking to be nourished or birthed within me?

·         Where am I being called back into balance?

When you lay your cards, sit with them as symbols and companions rather than rushing for answers. Note how they speak to one another, how they echo patterns in your dreams, your body, or your studio practice.

Keep this spread nearby throughout the month. You may find that the cards reveal new layers as the moon shifts, as planets move, as your own perspective changes. It is not a one-time reading but a map to walk with, a living dialogue between you, your intuition, and the unseen currents of October.

Oracle Card Reading

Seasonal Vibes & Studio Soundtrack

Music to Inspire Your Creative Practice and Inner Flow

This playlist is a kind of sonic altar, a collection of tracks that are guiding my heart, igniting inspiration, and holding space for the liminal, the slow, and the magical moments in my studio this season.

You’ll hear songs that echo both light and shadow, grounding rhythms and ethereal voices, songs that feel like dusk meeting dawn. They move with ritual, dream, longing, everything I need right now to lean into the unseen currents of creativity, trust, and transformation.

If you’re creating, walking, resting, or simply breathing, may these tracks feel like companions. Let them hold you steady, open space inside, and carry you forward.

Closing the Circle & Wrap-Up

Spring Equinox, Special Edition Blog, and October Studio Highlights

As we close this circle and step into the fresh rhythms of this new moon cycle, may you carry with you the balance, clarity, and courage to shape what’s next. October asks us to trust the unseen currents, tend to the seeds we’ve planted, and honour both the endings and beginnings that mark this turning of the wheel.

The Spring Equinox brings its own magic, a moment of perfect balance between day and night, reminding us that growth and stillness are equally necessary in our creative lives. If you’d like to explore the energies of Ostara more deeply, be sure to check out my Special Edition Blog Post dedicated to this seasonal celebration.

For more in-depth insights, you’ll find weekly Little Witchy Things and Cycles of Craft posts on Substack and over on the socials, guiding you step by step through the unfolding month.

And before I go, a little note from the studio, there’s currently a sale in my Redbubble store. If you’ve had your eye on my crow artworks, now’s the perfect time to bring one home, especially with Halloween just around the corner.

Until next moon, may your path be creative, your practice nourishing, and your days threaded with magic.

AI Image Disclaimer:

Some images in this post were generated with the assistance of AI. I use these tools to support my creative practice, particularly in ways that accommodate my chronic health and disability, helping me explore ideas and visual concepts when physical limitations make traditional methods challenging. These images are part of my process, not a replacement for handmade art.

Art Witch Journal: Virgo Season Reflections, Eclipse Energy & Creative Renewal

Art Witch’s Studio

Hello creative alchemists,

As Virgo Season unfolds, we are invited to pause, reflect, and step into the quiet, liminal spaces between what has been and what is emerging. This is a time to honour our inner lives, our creative work, and the rhythms of the body and spirit.

In this month’s journal, we’ll explore the reflective energy of Virgo, the potent shifts of eclipse season, and the grounding potential of the equinox. Together, we’ll create space for contemplation, ritual, and creative renewal. Let’s step gently into this threshold and see what wants to emerge.

Cuppa & Catch Up

Leo Season has been a deeply challenging one for me. My health has thrown me curveballs this month, including two emergency room visits, one of which involved waiting five hours for an ambulance. These experiences were distressing and came at a time when submissions were due, making the pressure feel even heavier. I was able to finish two out of four submissions, but the other two had to be set aside for now. I’ll complete the artworks and hopefully find another opportunity to submit them in the future.

I won’t lie; it’s been a blow to my confidence. I found myself questioning if the energy, time, and love I pour into my craft is truly worth it. Another exhibition opportunity passed because I had no way to transport my Element Series, and I struggled to practice the very advice I give others: honour the body you are in and trust that the work itself is important. When I wrote last month’s journal, I genuinely believed it. Then my body reminded me, again, that it sets the pace, not my mind. Half the month was spent in bed, and I was ready to throw it all in.

This month’s journal almost didn’t happen. Then, a couple days ago, I delivered my Wild Empress piece for the upcoming Art X Metro exhibition, and everything shifted. I love this piece. I remembered the joy of creating it, the thrill of bringing it into being, and why I do this work. It’s not for algorithms, likes, or views, it’s because it makes my soul sing. It’s because it brings me joy and gives me purpose. Sharing my journey, no matter how small my audience, is part of that joy.

This winter, I intentionally slowed down and turned inward. The many changes in my life are still settling, and even the positive ones take time to integrate. Life isn’t linear; it’s messy, unpredictable, and full of contrasts. Some days are wonderful, and some weeks feel soul-destroying. I have to remind myself why I create, especially when my body resists.

With the last weeks of winter and eclipse season approaching, I’m giving myself permission to be gentle. There are more changes on the horizon, and that’s okay. Birth, whether of art, life, or self, is both painful and joyful. These truths coexist, and I need to honour both.

For now, I rest. I recover. I nurture myself so I can continue creating my art, my life, and my world, with love, patience, and the fierce joy that brought me here in the first place.

Navigating the ups and downs of Leo Season, moments of frustration, exhaustion, and small triumphs, has reminded me that art is both refuge and revelation. These experiences highlighted the liminal spaces in my practice: the threshold where struggle and creation meet, where joy and doubt coexist. It’s exactly this space that Chapter Five of Art Witch Musings invites us to dwell in a space where creation becomes an invocation, a communion with the unseen, and a doorway into transformation.

Wild Empress - Mixed Media Sculpture

Art Witch Musings — Chapter Five

The act of creation is, at its core, an invocation. Each brushstroke, each word, each fragment of collage is not just an aesthetic choice but a summoning. We call into being something that did not exist before, a spark pulled from the unseen and shaped into matter. For me, this is not separate from my craft, it is the craft. The studio becomes the circle, the table becomes the altar, and the work itself becomes the spell.

Although, spells are not always grand gestures. They are stitched from the quiet repetitions of daily practice, the arranging of objects, the marking of symbols, the patience to return again and again to the work even when it feels tangled or uncertain. This is where art and witchcraft mirror each other most intimately: in their demand for devotion, trust, and surrender to process.

There is a liminality in this space, a threshold where the ordinary world dissolves. I have always felt that to make art is to step sideways, to move through a doorway into that shimmering place where imagination and spirit overlap. It is not escapism; rather, it is a way of seeing more deeply, of reaching into the marrow of things.

In this threshold space, time behaves differently. Hours pass unnoticed, the edges of self blur, and what emerges feels both familiar and strangely other. It is here that I often sense the ancestors at my shoulder, the archetypes whispering, the symbols aligning themselves with uncanny precision. To dismiss this as coincidence is to strip the work of its most vital heartbeat. To honour it, instead, is to recognise that art-making is an act of communion with the unseen, with the collective, with the deep self.

This chapter of my work is about dwelling in that liminal zone. Not rushing to explain, not forcing clarity, but allowing the mystery to breathe. The pages and canvases I create are less about answers than invitations, doorways, sigils, thresholds. They ask the viewer to step through, to linger, to listen. Just as I do.

Art Witch’s Studio

Little Witchy Things

This month’s energy invites us to slow down, ground ourselves, and step into the threshold between what has been and what is emerging. The Virgo Black Moon calls us to reflect on our habits, our spaces, and how we show up for ourselves. Eclipse season is on the horizon, making this a potent time to prepare, release, and realign before the equinox shifts the seasonal energies.

One of the simplest ways to work with this energy is through small, intentional practices woven into your daily life. Start by creating moments of pause and reflection, five slow, mindful breaths before beginning your day or your creative work can anchor you and help you tune into your intuition. Notice what arises in these quiet spaces and let it guide your next steps.

Next, consider the practice of micro-release. Let go of one expectation, habit, or thought pattern that no longer serves you. Write it down, dissolve it safely in water, or burn it as a symbolic act of release. These small gestures accumulate, creating space for new intentions and shifts to take root.

The arrangement of your creative environment is another subtle but powerful form of magic. Virgo energy thrives on order and ritual, but this is not about perfection, it’s about intuitive alignment. Rearrange your studio, your altar, or your workspace in a way that feels nourishing. Notice how small changes in your surroundings can shift your focus, energy, and flow.

Finally, bring your attention to balance as we move toward the equinox. Reflect on what you wish to cultivate in both your inner and outer life, and honour these intentions with a simple ritual, candle, or journal practice. By consciously acknowledging your needs and desires, you create a foundation for the upcoming season and the deeper work eclipse season may reveal.

These little practices, when stitched together, become a quiet form of magic, a gentle weaving of reflection, release, and renewal that nurtures both your creativity and your soul.

Art Witch Altar and Cuppa

Art Journal Prompt

This cycle, the energy invites us to step into the liminal space of creation, the threshold where the ordinary dissolves and the unseen begins to speak. With the Virgo black moon at 0°, eclipse season approaching, and the equinox on the horizon, this is a potent time to reflect, release, and plant seeds of intention.

Take a moment to settle into your studio, your journal, or your creative space. Let yourself feel the quiet tension between what is ending and what is emerging. Ask yourself:

·         What patterns, habits, or identities no longer serve me?

·         Where have I been bending to others’ expectations at the expense of my own happiness and growth?

·         What parts of myself have I been neglecting, and what needs care, attention, and integration?

·         How do I want to show up for myself in the months ahead?

Now, create a small ritual with your materials:

Draw, collage, or paint symbols of what you wish to release.

Next, add symbols, colours, or words representing the intentions you want to summon, how you wish to care for yourself, express your creativity, and live in alignment with your truth.

Allow this to be messy, imperfect, and intuitive. Let the process itself become the spell: a call to your future self, a gentle invocation of change and wholeness. Return to this work throughout the moon cycle, nurturing your intentions and observing how they shift, grow, and take shape.

Art Supplies and Journal

Artist of the Season — Issy Wood

This Virgo Season, I’m shining a light on Issy Wood (b. 1993, Durham, North Carolina), a British-American artist whose multidisciplinary practice spans painting, music, and writing. Wood’s work perfectly embodies Virgoan traits, meticulousness, introspection, and a deep attention to detail, while exploring the complexities of identity, desire, and the unseen threads of modern life.

Her paintings often feature fragmented, close-cropped images of clothing, furniture, and flesh, rendered in muted tones and dark, velvet-like textures. Through these works, she examines aspiration, alienation, glamour, and decay, capturing both the sensuality and sterility of contemporary culture. Early series depicting leather car interiors and high-end consumer goods set the stage for her signature style, precise, intimate, and quietly uncanny.

Wood’s work has been featured in numerous solo exhibitions across the globe, including Michael Werner Gallery in New York, Carlos/Ishikawa in London, X Museum in Beijing, and the Schinkel Pavillon in Berlin. Her pieces are held in prominent collections such as the Institute of Contemporary Art in Miami, the Rhode Island School of Design Museum, and the National Portrait Gallery in London.

Beyond her visual art, Issy Wood is also a musician. Her releases including, Cries Real Tears! (2020), If It's Any Constellation (2021), and My Body Your Choice (2022), explore introspection, identity, and vulnerability, reflecting the same intimate attention to nuance that informs her paintings. Issy is also a writer, with publications such as All The Rage (2019) and the SML PTNGS series (2018–2023), offering further insight into her creative process and perspective.

Wood’s practice resonates with Virgo Season’s energy: reflective, precise, and deeply aligned with self-inquiry. Her work invites us to notice the subtle patterns in our own lives, to examine our desires, and to honour the quiet, detailed work of transformation.

Cycles of Craft — Virgo Season

Virgo Season opens under the reflective, grounding influence of the sign, beginning with a rare Black Moon in Virgo on August 23 at 4:06 PM AEST. This is a seasonal black moon, a new moon occurring at 0°, inviting us to plant clear seeds of intention. Virgo’s energy encourages us to examine what no longer serves us, to call back the parts of ourselves we’ve neglected, and to set new standards for how we want to care for ourselves and show up in the world. This is a liminal moment, a threshold, asking us to slow down, reflect, and align before the energetic intensity of eclipse season fully unfolds.

The first week of Virgo Season continues with Saturn stationing retrograde on September 1. Saturn asks us to reconsider structures, boundaries, and commitments in our lives. Retrograde periods are ideal for reviewing old patterns, releasing rigidity, and discerning what discipline and responsibility truly mean for us now. The shadow of Saturn’s retrograde lingers throughout the season, reminding us to honour our limits while staying grounded in self-respect.

On September 6, Uranus stations retrograde in Gemini, amplifying the call to introspection. This period asks us to slow down in order to integrate unexpected shifts or insights, particularly around communication, curiosity, and mental patterns. Uranus urges innovation, but retrograde energy asks us to first make internal adjustments before leaping into external change.

The season’s first major lunar event, the Full Moon in Pisces and Total Lunar Eclipse, arrives on September 8 at 3:30 AM AEST, fully visible in Australia. Eclipses illuminate what has been hidden, accelerating endings and revelations. Pisces’ compassionate, intuitive energy supports deep emotional reflection, dream work, and creative visioning. This is a moment to honour your emotional truth and release anything that clouds your clarity, preparing the ground for new beginnings.

Later in Virgo Season, the New Moon in Virgo and Partial Solar Eclipse on September 22 at 5:50 AM AEST signals another opportunity to plant seeds, especially around personal routines, self-care, and creative practices. Though not visible in Australia, its energetic influence can be felt globally. This eclipse invites us to integrate lessons from earlier in the season, establishing intentions that align with our evolving sense of self and our creative path.

Finally, Ostara (Spring Equinox) on September 23 at 4:19 AM AEST marks the balance of light and dark. The equinox encourages reflection on harmony within ourselves, the cycles we’ve been working through, and how we want to move forward into the new season. It is the perfect time to align intentions set during Virgo’s black moons with concrete plans for growth, creativity, and personal renewal. Keep an eye out for the Special Sabbath Edition.

Throughout Virgo Season, these planetary stations, eclipses, and seasonal shifts call for careful attention to your inner life. They encourage slow reflection, conscious release, and the planting of intentional seeds in both your creative and personal practice. Virgo’s grounding energy, paired with the liminality of eclipse season and the renewal of the equinox, offers a fertile moment to create, reflect, and align with your deepest desires.

Partial Lunar Eclipse

Almost Spring – Studio Tunes

Step gently into the threshold between winter and spring with Almost Spring, a playlist curated for reflection, restoration, and creative alchemy. Soft, atmospheric tracks invite you to pause, breathe, and connect with your intuition, while the introspective songs of Issy Wood weave through the mix, guiding you into liminal spaces where imagination and spirit overlap. Perfect for journaling, studio work, or quiet contemplation, this playlist is your companion for grounding and inspiration as Virgo Season unfolds.

Wrapping up and looking forward:

As we move through Virgo Season, eclipse season, and toward the Spring Equinox, I encourage you to tend to your inner landscape with care, patience, and curiosity. Use the prompts, rituals, and reflections shared in this journal to anchor yourself in the present while planting seeds for growth, both creatively and personally.

Remember: creativity is not linear, and neither is life. Moments of rest, release, and reflection are as essential as bursts of inspiration and action. Honour your body, your rhythms, and the parts of yourself you are reclaiming. Stand gently in the doorway of the new season, and trust that the work you are doing, on your pages, in your studio, and within yourself, is a profound act of magic.

Little Witchy Things over on the socials every Wednesday explore these ideas more deeply. Cycles of Craft deep dives, like the Black New Moon in Virgo, are over on my Facebook page. I also share behind-the-scenes studio updates, when my body allows, on socials.

You can support my art by visiting my Redbubble store

My website shares all my work, which is available for sale. If you’re interested in any of my pieces, reach out via email or DM on socials.

Keep creating, keep reflecting, and above all, keep nurturing your soul.

On Using AI in My Practice

I also want to acknowledge something important about my creative process. Due to my health and disability, there are times when physically producing every piece I imagine isn’t possible. I’ve been exploring AI-assisted images as a tool to expand my practice, helping me visualise ideas, experiment with composition, and bring concepts to life that my body may not always allow me to create by hand.

AI doesn’t replace my craft—it becomes part of my process, a way to honour my creativity while working within my physical limits. It allows me to continue exploring, imagining, and sharing my artistic vision without compromise. Every choice, whether digital, physical, or a combination of both, is intentional and deeply rooted in my artistic voice.

Art Witch Musings: Embracing Rest and Visibility This Leo Season

An Art Witch’s Desk covered in Art Journals and Art Supplies

Hello, my Radiant Creative Alchemists,

This month, under the Leo New Moon, I’ll be thinking about what it means to be seen and what it means to refuse visibility on someone else’s terms. I’m sitting with the tension between being overlooked and being hyper-visible, especially as I navigate the world as a disabled artist. How can I reclaim space without performing? How can I honour slowness, rest, and deep presence as sacred acts of resistance?

As I sink further into winter, I’m letting these questions shape me, not with urgency, but with care. Letting the unseen speak. Letting new forms of magic rise from the quiet.

Cuppa & Catch-Up

This month, I’ve been steeped in change, the kind that feels both tender and expansive. I officially handed back the keys to my old flat. That little space held me through some hard seasons, and while it no longer met my needs, I’ll always be grateful for the safety it offered when I needed it most. My landlords were incredibly supportive, helping make it as comfortable as possible, but it was time to move on.

And move on I have. I’ve now settled into my new, accessible apartment and I’m slowly beginning to stretch back out into the world again. One of the biggest changes has been the arrival of my new chariot, a Quickie Q100 R electric wheelchair! I haven’t been able to go out alone in over a year, and this chair marks the beginning of a new chapter of independence. I’m already imagining all the little adventures ahead. It hasn’t been the smoothest start (is it ever?), and I’m still navigating the barriers that come with living in a world not designed for bodies like mine. But there have also been some really beautiful moments and kind humans along the way.

One of the highlights of this month was finishing the Speakers Bank Content Creation Workshop I’ve been doing over the past couple of months. We explored storytelling, filming, lighting, and editing, all through the lens of advocacy and lived experience. A huge moment for me was meeting Carly Findlay, who spoke to us about the power of telling our own stories as disabled people. We each filmed moments from our daily lives, and the final short film will be released soon, I’ll make sure to share it across my socials when it’s out.

Another exciting moment, all three of my pieces in the Incognito Art Show have sold! I’m so proud to be part of an initiative that raises money to support other disabled artists doing what they love. It’s such an honour to contribute in this way.

I also celebrated my third singleversary. Life doesn’t always unfold the way we expect it to, but there’s something wild and freeing about carving out a new path. I’m embracing the adventure, even if I don’t always know where it’s headed.

There were moments of connection too, a warm Tetula Zoom catch-up with my Collective 24 crew, and a lovely afternoon spent with neighbours through the Residents’ Community Garden Group. We planted out some new beds, and I can’t wait to watch them grow.

I also had a brilliant night out with a dear friend at the State Theatre’s Playhouse to see Julia, an incredible performance by Justine Clarke about Julia Gillard and her iconic Misogyny Speech. Highly recommend if you get the chance, it was powerful, moving, and deeply resonant.

My first big adventure with the new chair was to Lightscape at the Royal Botanical Gardens. I got a taxi with my new driver Jama to the train station, met my sister, and we made our way into the city. It was cold but magical, Melbourne knows how to do winter well.

Back in the studio, things are gently unfolding. At the start of winter, I pulled out an older painting I hadn’t touched in a while and placed her back on the easel. I let her sit quietly for a while to see what she might have to say. Slowly, she started whispering again, and the brushes have found their way back to the canvas. It’s felt like catching up with an old friend, reacquainting ourselves and seeing where the conversation wants to go next.

I’m also working on several new pieces for upcoming exhibitions, one for the Eckersley’s Art & Craft Prize 2025, and another for the No Vacancy Annual Group Show (fingers crossed!). Wild Empress, my sculptural mask piece, has been submitted for the Metro Art X 2025 exhibition, and I’m keeping an eye out for the Merri-bek Summer Show, this year’s theme is Love in Crisis. Bonus points if you can guess what I’ve got in mind for that one…

All of these shifts, the move, the new wheels, the quiet return to old works, have had me thinking more deeply about the spaces I inhabit, and the ones that are still closed to me. As I navigate this next chapter, I’ve felt a quiet pull to begin weaving together parts of myself I’ve often kept separate, the artist, the witch, the disabled woman.

This month’s Art Witch Musings is the beginning of that braid. It’s a chapter about thresholds, visibility, and the quiet magic of saying no to systems that weren’t built for us. It’s about reclaiming space, on canvas, in ritual, and in the world.

Art Witch Musings

Chapter Four: The Unseen Realms—Disability, Visibility, and the Magic of Refusal

There is a strange alchemy that takes place in the space between invisibility and hyper-visibility, a dance I know all too well as a disabled woman. When I used to walk with my cane, the world pretended not to see me or told me to get out or the way. Now I’m in my wheelchair, it stares, or worse, speaks to me as though I’m not fully there. In these moments, I become both too visible and entirely unseen.

Living with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, chronic pain, and fatigue means I exist in a liminal space of endurance. I occupy the threshold between worlds, the world of the "well" and the world of the "unwell," the seen and the unseen, the valued and the discarded. This is a haunted place, echoing with the footsteps of those who came before me and those still navigating these thresholds. It is a place of immense magic.

Art Witchery, in this context, becomes more than creative expression, it becomes resistance. My art is a reclamation of space in a world that would rather I shrink. It’s the slow stitching of stories and symbols into existence when my body won’t let me move fast. It’s a sacred NO. A refusal to be erased. A refusal to perform productivity, neatness, or linear healing.

Invisibility is not just a social experience; it is a sensory one. It wraps itself around the body like fog, muffling and distorting perception. The way people speak to you changes. The way institutions treat you changes. Even your mirror, at times, turns away.

But in the studio, whatever form it takes in that season, I become visible to myself again. I don’t have to explain or justify. I don’t have to pass. My mobility aid isn’t a symbol of failure; it’s a throne. My slowness is not laziness; it’s ritual. My body is not broken; it’s a channel. The pain becomes pigment, the fatigue becomes texture, and the tremble of my hands shapes the lines of the piece. The mess is holy.

There’s a peculiar kind of power in seeing the unseen. In spending so much of my life being overlooked, I’ve learned to notice what others miss. The way a shadow curls around a rusted nail. The way certain colours feel like grief. The way silence hums with memory.

This attention, this devotion to the overlooked, is where my Art Witchery thrives. My materials are infused with presence. Fabric, thread, clay, bones, paper, rust, they all hold stories, and I listen. I don’t just work with materials; I commune with them. I ask what they remember. I ask what they want to become. In that exchange, I am reminded that I, too, am a material. I, too, am becoming.

To be disabled in a capitalist society is to be constantly reminded of what you cannot do, what you cost, how you slow things down. But in the rhythms of the wheel of the year, in the gentle waning of the moon, slowness is sacred. Rest is necessary. Wintering is part of the cycle.

So, I choose to live seasonally, not systemically.

This chapter of my work, of my life, is rooted in winter. Not just the external season, but the internal one. The long night. The liminal pause. The tender frost of recalibration. This is not a time for bloom or performance. This is a time to tend the roots, to compost the shame, and to find magic in the dark.

From this place, new work will emerge. But for now, I am learning to stay in the unseen spaces. To honour them. To let them shape me. Because even in the dark, perhaps especially in the dark, I am still here. I am still an artist. I am still a witch.

And I am watching.

Art Journal Prompt: Seen & Sovereign

This month, reflect on the parts of you that have been overlooked, by others, by systems, or even by yourself.

• Where in your life have you felt unseen?

• What would it look like to reclaim that space with love, not performance?

• What parts of your body, story, or spirit have been told to shrink and how might they take up space in your art?

Use collage, paint, or pencil to create a portrait of your unseen self — not how others see you, but how you feel yourself in your own truth. Let it be messy. Let it be slow. Let it be sovereign.

For me, my wheelchair can be a throne. My space can be a ritual. My body, a living altar.

Start from here and see where it can take you.

Art Journal Prompt response showing a wheelchair as a throne

Artist of the Season: Maria Kozic

This Leo Season, I honour the fierce and visually electrifying work of Maria Kozic, a bold and uncompromising artist whose practice sits at the intersection of feminist critique, pop culture, and deeply personal storytelling. Born in Slovenia in 1962 and raised in Australia, Kozic emerged from the vibrant 1980s Melbourne art scene with a practice that pushed against the grain, mixing high-gloss aesthetics with low-brow references, punk sensibilities, and a fearless feminist edge.

Her iconic Kozic Kulture series fused painting, installation, and commercial-style graphics into works that confronted how women’s bodies are seen, sold, and mythologised. With a strong visual language rooted in cartoonish iconography and pop surrealism, Kozic’s work plays with sugar and spice, bright, fun, even humorous on the surface, but layered with deeper explorations of trauma, identity, violence, and defiance.

A migrant, a mother, and an outsider to traditional art world norms, Kozic has described her practice as a means of “telling the truth through fiction.” Her art becomes a space of reclamation and reinvention, a self-mythologising gesture that says: I will not be defined by you.

“I take what’s in the world, cartoons, fashion, symbols, toys, and I distort them until they speak my language. Until they tell my story.”
— Maria Kozic

Her work has been exhibited nationally and internationally, and while she has lived in both Castlemaine and New York, her practice resists easy categorisation. Maria Kozic is a perfect embodiment of Leo energy, dazzling, daring, and never afraid to take up space.

This season, she reminds us that art doesn’t need permission to be powerful and that we, too, can distort the symbols of the world until they speak our language.

Little Witchy Things

This winter, I’ve been learning what it means to truly rest, not just collapse, but consciously choose softness. To not see stillness as stagnation, but as slow repair.

The energy is subtle this season, like roots weaving beneath the surface. It’s not showy or dramatic. It’s warm socks, afternoon sun on the floor, long cups of tea. It’s the small spells that help me return to myself when I’ve wandered too far, because I do. I forget. I push. I burn out.

This cycle, Little Witchy Things is a quiet ode to the slow work of reweaving. To creating space for nourishment, not productivity. To remembering that the body is not an obstacle to magic, it is the magic.

It’s not glamorous. It’s not always inspiring. But it’s real. It’s necessary. And it’s where the healing lives.

This month let’s start with the magic of doing less. Imagine what would happen if you didn’t have to catch up, fix everything, or have all the answers right now. What if less is enough? Try lighting a candle at dusk and simply saying aloud, “I release the pressure to perform. I honour the wisdom in rest.” Let that be your only spell, a quiet surrender to softness.

Next, I invite you to see your body not as an obstacle but as the altar of your witchery, the spell itself. Our bodies carry so much: stories, strength, vulnerability. Gently run a warm cloth over your hands, heart, or feet, and whisper, “Thank you for carrying me.” This simple act is a ritual of gratitude and acceptance.

Slow movement is also a form of magic. When your body asks for gentleness, listen closely. Try shifting your pace, whether that means stretching mindfully, sitting with intention, or simply breathing deeply. These small acts reconnect you to the flow beneath the surface and nurture your inner fire.

Finally, sometimes the most powerful magic is simply choosing to sink into the season’s quiet call. It might be a single candle’s glow, a moment of stillness, or the gentle recognition that slowing down is not a loss but a rhythm to be honoured. Each evening, notice one small thing that brought you a sense of calm or ease. Let these moments become your seasonal offering, a way to rest with the wheel of the year, not against it.

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes… including you.”
— Anne Lamott

This season, may we all learn to unplug gently. To choose warmth. To choose ourselves.
To light a candle not for manifestation, but just to remember the light.

Cycles of Craft — Leo New Moon & August Astrological Highlights

The Leo New Moon arrives on July 25 at 5:11 am AEST, ushering in a season of bold creativity, self-expression, and the courage to shine your unique light. I’ll be sharing a full, detailed New Moon report over on my Facebook page soon, keep an eye out for insights on how to work with this potent lunar energy.

As we move deeper into Leo season, mark your calendars for a very special Imbolc edition of the blog, dropping August 1. Imbolc is a sacred threshold between seasons, a time to kindle new beginnings and honour the returning light, perfect for grounding your creative intentions for the months ahead.

But August brings even more cosmic excitement with a dazzling Six-Planet Parade around August 10, 2025. Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, Uranus, Neptune, and Saturn will align in the morning sky, a breathtaking celestial gathering. Among them, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, and Saturn may be visible to the naked eye, making this an awe-inspiring moment to connect with the wider universe and your own expansive creative spirit.

Adding to this, the Jupiter and Venus conjunction on August 11 promises an amplified energy of abundance, harmony, and artistic inspiration. The Moon will join this duo between August 19 and 21, making for a stunning triple alignment that invites deep reflection, relationship magic, and new opportunities for growth.

If you’re a night sky watcher, don’t miss the Perseid Meteor Shower peaking August 12-13. Known as one of the brightest meteor showers each year, it’s a powerful time for wishes, release rituals, and connecting with cosmic rhythms. Although the full Moon on August 9 may obscure some of the fainter meteors, the shower’s activity extends beyond its peak, offering darker nights around the August 23 New Moon to catch its magic.

Speaking of lunar events, the Full Moon in Aquarius will occur August 9 at 5:55 pm AEST. This air sign energy encourages us to embrace innovation, community, and forward-thinking ideas, perfect for charting new creative paths or breaking free from old patterns.

Between August 19 and 21, the Moon’s journey will take it close to Venus, Jupiter, and Mercury, creating a beautiful celestial dialogue that can inspire communication, connection, and creative collaborations.

Together, these planetary events invite us to harness the fierce Leo fire alongside expansive and visionary energies, a potent mix for growth, healing, and bold artistic expression as we move through late winter and into the light of spring.

 Oracle Insights: For Leo Season

This Leo Season, invite yourself to slow down and connect deeply with your inner fire, the quiet spark that holds your creative magic steady through winter’s stillness. Use this simple 3-card oracle spread as a gentle guide to explore your path in the weeks ahead.

How to Use:

Find a quiet, comfortable space. Light a candle or hold a crystal if you like. Shuffle your oracle or tarot deck while focusing on these questions. When you’re ready, draw three cards, laying them out left to right.

Card 1: The Spark Within

What is the quiet fire inside me that wants to be seen, nurtured, or expressed this season?
This card reveals the essence of your inner light—the creative force or passion that needs your attention and care right now.

Card 2: The Slow Flame

How can I honour the rhythm of rest and softness without losing my power?
This card offers guidance on embracing the winter’s slower pace while staying connected to your strength and purpose.

Card 3: The Roar to Come

What bold step or intention can I prepare for as this season unfolds?
This card points to the energy or action to cultivate as the wheel turns toward spring and new beginnings.

Reflection:
Spend a few moments journaling or meditating on your cards. How do they speak to the tension between visibility and invisibility? Between rest and creative impulse? How can you weave these insights into your Art Witch journey and daily rhythms?

Three oracle cards laying face down on a table with crystals and a cuppa

🎧 Late Winter Studio Sounds

This month’s playlist is a cosy companion for the slow, creative days of late winter. Think golden afternoon light, big mugs of tea, and quiet hours spent making, dreaming, and gently waking from seasonal slumber. These songs have been playing softly in the background of my studio as I ease through the final stretch of winter. I hope they keep you company too — whether you’re journaling, collaging, or just sinking into a much-needed moment of rest.

Until Next Time…

As we move through this Leo New Moon and into the heart of late winter, may you find power in stillness, magic in the quiet, and courage in your own creative rhythm. Whether you're dreaming at your altar, painting in the low light, or simply letting yourself rest, know that your presence matters, even (especially) when it’s unseen.

Remember to join me each Wednesday on Instagram for Little Witchy Things, small spells and soft rituals to help you stay rooted. You’ll find Cycles of Craft updates and astro insights on my Facebook page, along with behind-the-scenes peeks from the studio across my socials. And don’t miss the special Imbolc blog post dropping August 1, a gentle invitation to honour the returning light.

If you'd like to bring a little of my art magic into your space, visit my Redbubble store, every order supports my practice and means so much.

Thank you for walking this path with me.

With warmth, wonder, and wild art witchery,

A note on imagery:
Some of the visuals in this journal are created using AI tools. As a disabled artist living with chronic health conditions, I sometimes rely on these digital tools to help bring my creative vision to life, especially when energy, pain, or mobility make traditional methods difficult. I still guide every concept and style choice with care and intention, treating AI as a collaborator, not a replacement. It's one of the ways I adapt my practice to honour both my body and my creativity.

Art Witch Journal: Cancer New Moon Rituals, Retrogrades & Creative Rest

An Art Witch desk with candles, tea and open art journal on the night of the New Moon.

Hello creative alchemists,

I hope you are enjoying the new, slower pace journey we are sharing here. As we descend into the winter months of soup season and bottomless cups of tea, the Monthly journal feels right, especially for this Cancer Season. It is giving me the space to breathe and sink into this beautiful time of the year of long nights, short days, brisk mornings, sunny afternoons, fluffy blankets and slippers. Grab a cuppa and join me for some musings from my new studio.

✴︎ Cuppa & Catch Up ✴︎

Although in saying that, what an amazing, crazy, hectic, exciting cycle Gemini Season was. Where do I start? We had a hugely successful Creativa Exhibition with Collective 24. Opening Night was amazing, about a hundred people joined us at Kindred Cameras in the Docklands for wonderful night of Art, conversation, connection and celebrating the joy of Creating. On a personal note, I’m excited to let you know one of my Crow’s sold, Lunar Accent is flying to her new home where she can be loved and admired.

The other amazing news I have is that Kintsugi of the Soul, won the People’s Choice Award in the Stop it Before it Starts art completion run by Violence Prevention Australia. So, it’s with a full heart I thank everyone who voted for them. I am honoured that they have touched so many people and their message connected with so many. Thank you. There is some more exciting news that hopefully I can share with you next month about Kintsugi of the Soul.

If all of this wasn’t crazy enough, I have moved this month. I am now settling into my beautiful new apartment. I can embrace the Cancer energies begin creating my new, forever home. While I was packing, I came across some of my old New Moon Manifestations. Reading through these I realised that this is something I have been dreaming into reality for over 5 years. The safety and comfort of my own little sanctuary. It definitely hasn’t happened the way I would have planned or ever wanted but regardless, I am here. It is wheelchair accessible and I can live here, independently and grow as a disabled artist for many years to come. Next week I am having my electric wheelchair delivered. This is going to open the world up to me again. Giving me the freedom and independence to venture out into the community after over a year of isolation. So, watch this space for more art witch adventures

✴︎ Art Witch Musings ✴︎

Chapter Three: Art Witchery as Practice

Art Witchery, for me, is not a title. It’s a way of being in the world. A rhythm. A ritual. A relationship with the creative process that is intuitive, reverent, political, and deeply spiritual. It’s not something I perform. It’s something I live.

It begins with listening. Before the page, before the paint, before the idea, there is always a moment of tuning in. Not to what I should make, but to what’s already stirring below the surface. Sometimes it comes as an image in a dream. Sometimes it’s a phrase I can’t stop hearing. Sometimes it’s a texture, or a symbol, or a sense that something is waiting to come through.

I work slowly. Ritualistically. I don’t rush the magic. I let it unfold.
Tea is brewed. Music or silence is chosen with intention. A candle may be lit, or an altar cleared. I might draw a tarot card or reach for a stone I’ve been carrying in my pocket. These small gestures ground me, call me in, make space for something sacred to happen.

The studio becomes a liminal space in itself, part sanctuary, part cauldron, part dream chamber.
My materials are more than tools. They are collaborators. Paper, ink, thread, glue, bones, fabric, feathers, wax, each holds its own spirit, its own memory. I let them guide me as much as I guide them.

There are rhythms to this practice, moon phases, seasons, emotional tides. I don’t fight them. I follow them. I might sketch during a waxing moon, build altars at the full, rest and reflect as the moon wanes. I am always crafting in relationship to the world around me, the weather, the land, the cycles of my own body.

Art Witchery is not linear. There is no clear beginning or end. It spirals. It returns. It requires surrender. Some pieces take weeks; others sit unfinished for months until I understand what they were trying to say. Some never become “finished” in the traditional sense, they are offerings, spells in process, sacred scraps that don’t need to be polished to be powerful.

This practice is also deeply embodied. As someone living with chronic illness and disability, I’m always in conversation with my body, what it needs, what it’s holding, what it can or cannot do on a given day. Art becomes a place where I meet my body with gentleness. Where I honour its limitations and its wisdom. Where I can be both soft and strong.

And woven through all of this is a deep trust. Trust that what needs to be expressed will find its way. Trust that slowness is not stagnation. Trust that magic doesn’t always shout, it often whispers.

Art Witchery is not about producing. It’s about becoming. It’s about staying close to what’s real, what’s raw, what’s rising. It’s about remembering that creativity is sacred. That making is a ritual. That art, at its heart, is a spell cast in devotion to truth, transformation, and the unseen.

✴︎ Art Journal Prompt ✴︎

“What does home feel like to me now?”
Not the place, but the feeling.

This New Moon in Cancer calls us inward. It asks us to reflect on the spaces that hold us, soothe us, and witness who we are behind the scenes, without the mask, the pressure, or the performance.

In your journal this month, I invite you to explore the feeling of home. You might reflect on:

• What makes you feel emotionally safe?

• What rituals or objects bring you comfort and steadiness?

• How has your sense of home evolved?

• What does your inner sanctuary look, smell, or sound like?

Let your answers flow through image, colour, word, or texture. Paint your comfort. Collage your refuge. Stitch together the small things that bring you back to yourself.

There’s no right way to do this, just a gentle space to notice what’s rising and to honour whatever version of “home” you’re being called to create or return to.

Optional: Draw or paint a symbolic threshold, a door, a gateway, a curtain, and imagine yourself stepping through into the version of you that is most deeply held.

An open art journal with a response to what does home feel like to me now?

✴︎ Little Witchy Things ✴︎

Material Magic – Crafting the Sacred from the Everyday

This month, I’ve been thinking about the quiet rituals that hold my creative life together, the small, intentional acts that turn the ordinary into the sacred.

Cancer season has me nesting, softening, listening more closely to the whispers of my materials and the rhythm of my days. There’s something deeply magical about the way art-making becomes spellcraft, not through big dramatic moments, but through slow, repeated gestures: the brewing of tea, the strike of a match, the brushing of pigment across paper.

In Chapter Three of Art Witch Musings, I shared how I see my studio not as a workspace, but as a liminal space, part sanctuary, part cauldron, part dream chamber. It’s a place where every object holds memory. Every act is a kind of prayer.

This cycle, Witchy Little Things is a gentle celebration of material magic, how we tend our space, our tools, our bodies, and our rituals, and how these small things become the bones of our creative spellwork.

Here’s how I’m working with this energy:

Tending the Threshold

When I enter my studio now, I pause. Not to rush in and start producing, but to acknowledge the shift. To notice how I feel, how the room feels, how the light moves across the walls.
Thresholds aren’t just about crossing from one space to another, they’re invitations to become present. To arrive fully.
Light a candle. Sweep the floor. Offer a breath to the spirit of the space.

The doorway is where the magic begins.

Rituals of Beginning

Creating is never just about what we make, it’s about how we begin.
This month, try crafting a soft ritual to open your practice. Choose a sound, a scent, a gesture that welcomes you in.
For me, it’s tea in a certain mug, a few deep breaths, a playlist that holds me. Sometimes I’ll pull a tarot card or carry a stone from my altar to my desk.

Start small. Start sacred. Start with yourself.

The Body is the Spell

As someone living with chronic illness, I’ve learned to honour what my body needs, even when it asks me to do less. Especially then.
Your art witchery lives in your body. In your breath. In your heartbeat.
So this month, treat rest as a ritual. Nourish yourself like you would a tender seedling. Wrap up in blankets. Stir soup slowly. Let your movements be spells of care.

You are not a machine. You are a spell in progress.

 Material Kinship

What if your tools were ancestors? What if your thread had memory?
This month, I’ve been listening more to my materials, letting the paper guide the image, letting the glue decide the composition. When I treat them as collaborators, the work flows more easily.
Try this: Choose one material you love. Spend time with it. Don’t force anything. Ask it what it wants to become.

Magic lives in relationship, with self, space, and the seen and unseen.

A journal, cup of tea and a candle burning.

✴︎ Artist of the Season: Tracey Emin ✴︎

Born: July 3, 1963, Croydon, London, England
Sun Sign: Cancer
Mediums: Installation, painting, drawing, sculpture, photography, neon text, sewn appliqué
Notable Works: My Bed (1998), Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963–1995 (1995), The Last Thing I Said to You is Don’t Leave Me Here (1999)

Tracey Emin, born under the sign of Cancer, embodies the deeply emotional and introspective qualities associated with this water sign. Her art is a raw, unfiltered exploration of personal experience, delving into themes of love, loss, trauma, and identity. Emin's work is a testament to the power of vulnerability and the courage it takes to lay one's soul bare for the world to see.

Growing up in Margate, Kent, Emin faced a tumultuous childhood marked by hardship and adversity. These early experiences became the bedrock of her artistic expression, fuelling a career that would challenge societal norms and redefine the boundaries of contemporary art. Her confessional style invites viewers into her most intimate moments, creating a space where personal pain becomes a collective experience.

Emin rose to prominence in the 1990s as part of the Young British Artists (YBAs), a group known for their provocative and boundary-pushing work. Her piece Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963–1995, a tent appliquéd with the names of everyone she had shared a bed with, garnered significant attention for its candidness and emotional depth. Similarly, My Bed, an installation featuring her own unmade bed surrounded by personal items, offered a stark portrayal of depression and vulnerability.

Despite facing criticism and controversy, Emin's work has earned her a place among the most influential contemporary artists. She was appointed Professor of Drawing at the Royal Academy of Arts in 2011 and was made a Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire (DBE) in 2020 for her services to art.

In recent years, Emin has continued to evolve, both personally and artistically. After battling cancer, she has embraced a renewed sense of purpose, channelling her experiences into her art with even greater intensity. Her recent works focus on themes of love, healing, and the human condition, reflecting a journey of resilience and transformation.

Emin's art serves as a poignant reminder of the strength found in vulnerability and the healing power of creative expression. Her work resonates deeply with the Cancerian themes of home, emotional depth, and the nurturing of the self and others. Her raw, confessional style has influenced a generation of artists and continues to inspire creatives navigating their own emotional landscapes.

✴︎ Cycles of Craft ✴︎

July’s Astrological Weather for Creatives & Art Witches

This month, we’re deep in Cancer season, the most emotionally tender sign of the zodiac, and the cosmos seems to be asking us to slow down, reflect, and reassess. Retrogrades often get a bad rap, but really, they’re just cosmic invitations to pause and go within. This is especially true when multiple planets start their slow-backs during the same season.

Here’s what’s stirring in the stars this month:

Neptune Retrograde – July 4

“Let the dream reshape itself.”
Neptune, planet of dreams, illusions, and spiritual insight, begins its annual retrograde in Pisces. This is a misty, soft, intuitive energy, but in retrograde, it can also lift the veil. You might feel your illusions crumbling or realise something wasn’t quite what it seemed.

For creatives, this is a time to reconnect with why you create. What illusions about your art, your identity, or your path are ready to dissolve? What truth lies beneath the fantasy? Let your intuition be your compass and don’t be afraid to retreat inward for a while.

✧ Studio Spell: Journal or create around a dream that won’t leave you alone. What might it be trying to tell you?

Juno Direct – July 11

“Commitment doesn’t have to mean compromise.”
Juno - the asteroid of commitment, sacred partnerships, and soul contracts moves direct in Virgo after months of retrograde motion. You might feel clearer about what (or who) you’re ready to commit to, and how you want your partnerships to feel, especially the one you have with your creative self.

This is a great time to revisit your relationship with your art. Are your current rhythms truly supporting you? What boundaries or containers help you stay devoted without feeling depleted?

✧ Studio Spell: Write a love letter to your creative practice. What promises do you want to make to it, or break?

Saturn Retrograde – July 13

“Restructure with softness.”
Saturn, the cosmic architect, turns retrograde in dreamy Pisces yes, that’s a lot of Pisces energy. This retrograde helps us revise our structures, limits, and responsibilities but through a gentle, more emotional lens.

You might find yourself redefining what “success” means, questioning expectations, or feeling the need to build something more sustainable. Go slow. Saturn retrograde isn’t about pushing harder it’s about building with intention and care.

✧ Studio Spell: What creative commitments feel heavy or out of alignment? Release them with ritual, a list burned, a sketch left unfinished, a “no” whispered in candlelight.

Mercury Retrograde – July 18 to August 12

“Revisit, rewrite, reweave.”
Here we go again, Mercury retrograde returns, this time in Leo. Expect tech glitches, communication mishaps, and a general slowing of external progress. But also: a beautiful opportunity to return to unfinished work, forgotten ideas, or old journals and sketchbooks.

This retrograde can reignite your inner fire, especially if you’ve been creatively blocked. Let it be a time of revision, not rejection. Look again. The gold is there.

✧ Studio Spell: Pull out an unfinished piece and re-approach it with new eyes. What’s worth keeping? What’s ready to evolve?

Deep dives into these themes will be shared over at Ange’s Studio on facebook, so follow along if you’d like to explore each event more deeply throughout the month.

A hand drawn Lunar Calendar in a journal.

✴︎ Winter Studio Tunes ✴︎

A moody, magical mix for long nights and quiet mornings.
These are the sounds that have been swirling through my studio lately, soft, haunting, a little bit cinematic, perfect for dream journaling, slow stitching, or sipping tea while the world hushes around you.
Let it wrap around you like a blanket. Let it carry you deeper into the work.

✴︎ Closing the Circle ✴︎

As we close this month's circle, I hope something in these pages has sparked a soft kind of magic in you, the kind that starts slow and grows in the quiet.

Cancer season reminds us that we don’t always need to push forward. Sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is retreat inward, nurture what’s already stirring, and trust that the work is unfolding, even if we can’t yet see where it’s going.

Be gentle with yourself this cycle. Rest is sacred. Slowness is powerful. And your creative flame, however small, is still burning brightly.

Keep up to date with the seasons and cycles by checking in at Ange’s Studio on facebook for regular Cycles of Craft updates.

For more Little Witchy Things, behind-the-scenes musings, and studio magic, come say hi over on Instagram @angefosterart

And for all your wearable art and printed treasures, head to my Redbubble store, where my creations can journey from my studio to your world.

A note on imagery:
Some of the images in this journal were created using AI tools as part of my creative process. As an artist living with chronic illness and disability, these tools allow me to bring visual elements to life that would otherwise be physically difficult or inaccessible to create by hand. They’re not a replacement for my art practice, but a way to support and expand it — helping me tell stories, set mood, and share the magic of the seasons with more ease and consistency. Thank you for honouring the different ways creativity can flow.