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 Musings: Sigil Magic, Scorpio Full Moon and a Creative Descent

A cream-colored desk with an open art journal featuring a white sigil, surrounded by art tools, crystals, and candlelight, evoking the energy of the Scorpio Full Moon.

Hello creative alchemists, and welcome to my 20th blog post!

The Scorpio Full Moon 2025 is upon us, and as always, my full moon report is up over on Facebook under Cycles of Craft if you're craving a deeper dive into the energies. This post, however, is more personal, part studio letter, part ritual space. As we move through this season of descent, the pull to slow down is strong. Samhain marks the beginning of the dark half of the year, and with Pluto now retrograde and Black Moon Lilith both present in Scorpio, it’s no wonder we’re being asked to pause and reflect.

Cuppa and Catch Up

This fortnight I’ve been busy finishing off my pieces for Creativa, my upcoming exhibition with Collective 24. As predicted in the last blog, there were some late-night painting sessions to get everything finished in time, but I’m happy to report they are now ready to be delivered to the gallery this week!

We’ve started promoting the show too, so keep an eye out for it on platforms like What’s On Melbourne. Collective 24 members have also been dropping flyers off to art stores and cafes around town. If you’re not already, please follow Collective 24 on the socials to stay in the loop.

Now that the work is done, I’m taking a moment to breathe. I have some important medical appointments coming up over the next couple of months, and I know I’ll need to pace myself and rest where I can. My body is asking for stillness, and for once, I’m listening.

This Full Moon blog will be the last of the fortnightly updates for now. I’ll be moving to monthly Studio Letters in alignment with the New Moon. It’s not a step back, it’s a deepening. A chance to go slower, but richer. To honour the rhythm of the darker months. To follow my own energy instead of trying to keep up with the pace of the world. It’s part of evolving my intuitive art practice and making room for more authentic, sustainable creativity.

I’ve pulled out an unfinished canvas that’s been tucked away behind my desk for months. No pressure to do anything with it just yet, but I’m enjoying seeing it again. I’m also feeling the pull to journal more, privately, intuitively. A quieter form of artmaking, and one that feels very needed.

Art Witch Musings: Sigils in Art Practice

I often include sigils in my art.

They’re usually subtle, drawn with white watercolour pencil or layered into the underpainting, but they become part of the energy of the piece. A way of weaving intention into the process. This week I made one for the Full Moon using the phrase:
“I release creative fear and express my truth with power.”

Once the letters were condensed and rearranged into a glyph, I sketched it onto the canvas I’m working on. It’s hidden beneath layers of glaze now, but I know it’s there.

Historically, sigils were used in ceremonial magic by mystics and magicians who would encode spiritual or magical intentions into a single visual symbol. These weren't meant to be read literally, but felt or intuited symbols of desire, transformation, or divine protection. Today, they’re often used in chaos magic and intuitive witchcraft as a way of personalising your spellwork. I love that they’re both ancient and adaptable, there's something powerful about crafting a symbol that feels uniquely yours.

If you’ve never worked with sigil magic in art, they’re a beautiful way to combine ritual and creativity. You can write your intention, reduce it down by removing the vowels and repeated letters, and shape what’s left into a symbol. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to feel right.

You can add it to your sketchbook, your canvas, your journal, wherever you create. Let it be a quiet spell, working behind the scenes.

A gold sigil drawn from the intention 'I release creative fear and express my truth with power,' set against a textured, moody background.

Art Journal Prompt

What creative fear are you ready to release this Scorpio Full Moon?

And what truth are you ready to speak with power?

If it resonates, try creating a sigil from your answers and including it somewhere in your art or journal this week. It can be hidden, abstract, messy, or precise. There’s no wrong way to do it, only what feels honest.

This is a deep and personal one. There’s no pressure to share it. Let it be something just for you, if that’s what feels right. This type of art journaling for healing is something I return to again and again.

An open art journal surrounded by paints, tea, and candlelight—capturing a quiet moment of creative magic.

Artist of the Season: Suzy Frelinghuysen

Born May 7, 1911, Suzy Frelinghuysen was one of the first American women to work in the abstract cubist style and one of the few to be taken seriously by the movement during her time.

Suzy studied art in New York and later joined the American Abstract Artists group, working alongside artists like Josef Albers and Piet Mondrian. She brought a distinctly lyrical edge to geometric abstraction, her compositions are bold and architectural, yet there’s a kind of flow to them that draws you in.

She was also an opera singer, performing with the New York City Opera in the 1940s and 50s. For long stretches, she stepped away from painting completely to focus on music. That rhythm feels real to me, the way we move in and out of creative phases. Suzy reminds me that it’s okay to take breaks, to return, to reinvent. That your artistry is never limited to just one form.

I love discovering women artists like Suzy who shaped art history in quiet, powerful ways. They’re part of the lineage I work within as a mixed media artist in Melbourne, exploring themes of identity, voice, and reclamation.

Cycles of Craft Update

Since the last blog, I’ve shared updates on Facebook about Samhain ritual ideas, Pluto retrograde in Aquarius, and Dark Moon Lilith in Scorpio. There’s also a Scorpio Full Moon report going live the same day as this blog.

With so much intense astrology happening in the fixed signs, I’ve been feeling it in my bones. The Scorpio-Aquarius tension is strong in my chart, and it’s asking me to dig deep, to slow down, reflect, and be honest about what needs to be composted in order for new growth to take root.

Even though the blog will shift to a monthly rhythm, there will still be plenty of updates on Instagram and Facebook, especially around moon phases, seasonal changes, and behind-the-scenes moments from the studio. Think of the monthly blog as a deeper exhale. A gathering of threads. A letter from the heart. A continuation of the Cycles of Craft journey we’ve been on for the last 6 months.

Soundtrack for the Descent

If you're like me, certain songs just belong to this time of year.

Soundtrack your descent into winter with these witchy studio tunes. A mix of moody instrumentals, dreamy folk, and atmospheric soundscapes to hold you through the quiet season. Perfect for painting, journaling, or simply brewing a strong cup of tea and sinking into the stillness.

🎧 Listen to the playlist on Spotify

Where to Find Me

I’ll be back with the new Studio Letter for the Gemini New Moon at the end of May. These monthly letters will continue to blend studio updates, seasonal energy, and a little bit of magic, just at a more sustainable rhythm for the dark half of the year.

Until then, you can:

• Catch the full Scorpio Full Moon astrology update on Facebook

• Follow Collective 24 on instagram and facebook for exhibition updates

• And don’t miss: 25% off everything in my Redbubble store from May 15–19

May this Full Moon help you release what’s no longer serving you and remind you of your power to begin again.

A quick note: Some of the images in this post were created using AI tools. As a disabled artist, managing my energy and chronic pain means I sometimes need to find alternative ways to bring my vision to life. These tools support me in staying connected to my creative practice, even when my body needs to rest.