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.

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