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.

Seasonal Musings - Winter Solstice Edition

An open art journal sits open on a desk with a Yule Log, eucalyptus leaves, candles, a cup of tea and other art witch items.

Hello creative alchemists,

Welcome to the longest night of the year. The Winter Solstice is here, a sacred turning point on the Wheel of the Year, a threshold between shadow and light, endings and beginnings.

There’s a stillness in the air that feels different. Ancient. This is a time when the earth whispers its old stories and invites us to rest, reflect, and root into the quiet before the slow return of the sun.

So, grab a cuppa, or perhaps a cheeky mulled wine and let’s sink into the solstice magic together.

A Brief History of Yule & the Longest Night

Before Christmas, there was Yule.

Yule is an ancient midwinter festival celebrated by Germanic and Norse peoples, falling on or near the Winter Solstice. The word Yule is thought to stem from jól, a term that predates Christianity by centuries. It marked the rebirth of the sun after the darkest, longest night of the year.

In pagan mythology, particularly within Wiccan and Celtic-inspired traditions, this moment is when the Great Mother Goddess gives birth to the Sun God, bringing light back into the world. It’s a celebration of hope, renewal, and the slow but certain return of warmth and life. The Crone phase of the Goddess makes way for the Maiden once more, the cycle begins again.

This sacred story of light reborn in darkness can be seen echoed in many cultures, including Christianity, where the birth of the Son of God is celebrated close to the solstice. Pagan Sun God—Christian Son of God. The symbolism is strikingly similar.

Yule Traditions You Might Recognise:

•              The Yule Log: Traditionally a whole tree or log burned over several nights, symbolising warmth, protection, and prosperity. Ashes were often kept for luck or used in charms throughout the year.

•              Evergreens & Holly: Trees and greenery symbolised life that persists through winter’s death. Holly was thought to house the spirits of nature and offer protection.

•              Mistletoe: A sacred plant in Druidic tradition, associated with healing, fertility, and the divine.

•              Feasting, Storytelling & Singing: Joyful acts to banish the cold and call in abundance for the season ahead.

•              Gift Giving: Originally offerings to spirits, gods, or loved ones as tokens of hope and blessings for the return of light. Over time, this evolved into the more commercial gift-giving we associate with modern Christmas.

As Christianity spread through Europe, many Yule customs were absorbed into Christmas celebrations, trees, feasts, carols, gift-giving. The deeper, cyclical rhythms of nature-based spirituality were woven into a new tapestry, but the original threads still shimmer underneath.

Other Midwinter Celebrations Around the World

While the Northern Hemisphere’s Winter Solstice is often at the centre of Western narratives, cultures across the globe have long honoured this seasonal turning.

•              Yalda Night (Iran): Originally Zoroastrian festival, celebrated throughout Central Asia celebrating the rebirth of the sun and the victory of light over darkness. Families gather to read poetry (especially Hafez), eat pomegranates, watermelon and nuts, and stay awake into the night.

•              Shab-e Chelleh (Middle East): Another name for Yalda in Iran and surrounding regions, honouring endurance, love, and the turning of the cosmic tide.

•              Dongzhi Festival (China): A time for family reunions and the making of glutinous rice balls called tangyuan, symbolising unity and balance. The solstice marks the yin phase transitioning back toward yang.

•              Soyal (Zuni and Hopi Tribes, USA): A ceremonial dance festival held to welcome the sun back from its long journey. It includes purification rituals, storytelling, and blessings for the new year.

Across time and culture, the themes remain consistent: rebirth, light returning, rest, gathering, and hope.

A traditional Yalda table set for winter solstice. The scene includes an open pomegranate, a bowl of mixed nuts and dried fruits, and slices of watermelon. A book of Hafez’s poetry lies nearby, with candles casting a warm glow over the richly patterned tablecloth. The atmosphere is cosy, festive, and filled with Persian cultural elements.

Ways to Celebrate – Witchy & Otherwise

Whether you identify as an art witch or simply love the invitation of a slower season, here are some gentle and magical ways to mark the Solstice in your own rhythm:

For the Art Witches

•              Create a Winter Solstice altar using natural materials: pinecones, quartz, candles, cinnamon, evergreen sprigs, and dried orange slices.

•              Make a symbolic Yule Log from a small branch. Decorate it with ribbon, runes, or sigils for protection and creativity. Burn it (safely) or display it on your altar.

•              Paint your own Sun God/Goddess—as they rise from the dark. Use golds, deep indigos, and symbolic elements like antlers, spirals, or flame.

•              Craft a wheel of the year for your art journal, or collage seasonal imagery to track your inner and outer cycles.

A cosy armchair draped with a soft throw rug sits beside a small altar table. A grey cat is curled up peacefully on the arm of the chair. On the table, a steaming glass of mulled wine, candles, eucalyptus leaves, and a few crystals create a warm, witchy solstice setting. The lighting is soft and golden, evoking a calm winter evening.

For the Muggles (and low-spoons witches)

•              Brew a warm cider or spiced tea. Add cinnamon or clove and stir in an intention.

•              Watch the sunrise the morning after solstice to welcome the light back.

•              Light a single candle and sit in darkness for a few moments—notice what emerges in the quiet.

•              Bake traditional winter treats (shortbread, gingerbread, or anything warm and buttery).

•   Call a friend or loved one. Connection is a spell too.

Winter Studio Tunes

If you’re looking to set the perfect vibe while you slow down and honour the Solstice, I’ve put together a Winter Studio Tunes playlist—full of warm, gentle, and soulful tracks to accompany your ritual, journaling, or simply resting. You can find it linked in the blog to help create your own sacred soundtrack for this quiet turning of the year.

Art Journal Prompt – "A Light in the Dark"

In the deep dark of winter, what light do you tend within?

Reflect on the parts of yourself that are ready to emerge or be reborn. What quiet truth is beginning to glow again after a long dormancy?

Use imagery of spirals, candles, seeds, or fire. Consider journaling or illustrating the inner flame that guides you through your own winter.

Optional: Try a before-and-after page, one side for what you’re releasing in the darkness, the other for what you’re gently calling back into the light.

An open art journal rests on a cream-coloured desk, showing a creative response to the prompt “A Light in the Dark.” The pages feature painted spiral shapes, soft brushstrokes in gold and indigo, and handwritten reflections. Surrounding the journal are a lit candle, a cup of tea, and a few crystals, creating a peaceful and introspective solstice atmosphere.

Oracle Insights – Solstice Reading

Take a pause and shuffle your favourite oracle or tarot deck. Ask the solstice to speak through your cards. Then pull:

1.           The Darkness: What is being invited to fall away or be composted?

2.           The Stillness: What wisdom or rest is here in the pause?

3.           The Light's Return: What is beginning to rise again in me?

Write down your impressions or sketch the card imagery into your journal. If you don’t have a deck, pull symbols from nature, use your intuition to draw three abstract shapes or colours, or flip to three random pages in a book and let those be your guidance.

Three oracle cards are laid out in a horizontal row on a cream-coloured desk, each turned face-up as part of a Winter Solstice spread. Around the cards are crystals, a lit candle, dried herbs, and an open art journal with handwritten notes and symbols. A warm mug of tea sits nearby. The scene feels quiet, intuitive, and ritualistic—an art witch’s sacred moment of reflection.

Closing the Circle

As the wheel turns and the light slowly returns, may you find rest in the stillness and inspiration in the dark. Winter invites us to honour the quiet, tend our inner flame, and listen deeply to what’s ready to emerge.

The next instalment of the Monthly Musings – Art Witch Journal will be out next week, where I’ll be sharing more reflections from the studio, an art journal prompt for the new moon, and the next chapter of my long-form artist essay.

In the meantime, don’t forget to check my Facebook page for the upcoming Cycles of Craft update as we move through the Solstice portal and into Cancer Season—a time of deep feeling, nourishment, and inner sanctuary.

You can also visit my Redbubble shop to explore my art prints and designs, or follow along on Instagram @angefosterart for more updates from the studio.

Wishing you a gentle and magical Solstice,

A note on images:

As a disabled artist, I sometimes use AI-generated images to help illustrate my blog and social media content. Creating and photographing styled scenes myself isn’t always physically possible, especially on low-spoon days. These images are a supportive tool that helps me share my vision and storytelling when my body needs rest. Wherever I can, I bring my own art and handmade magic into the mix too. Thank you for understanding and holding space for access in creative practice.

Crossing the Threshold: Art, Magic & the New Moon in Gemini

Witch in a Wheelchair - Monthly Musings from Ange’s Studio

✴︎ Cuppa & Catch Up ✴︎

Greetings Creative Alchemist,

Welcome to the very first edition of Monthly Musings from Ange’s Studio! This new journal-style format will land with each new moon, weaving together studio updates, witchy wisdom, seasonal shifts, creative reflections, and artist inspiration, all brewed up with a little magic and a lot of heart.

After months of planning, the gallery doors are officially open for the Creativa Exhibition by Collective 24, "an eclectic group of emerging artists here in Melbourne/Naarm! Opening Night is Friday, May 30 and I’d love to see you there. I’m beyond excited to share that alongside my newest work, The Crow Cycle has taken flight once again and landed at Kindred Cameras, Docklands, for the exhibition. The crows will be watching from the walls, and this time they’ve brought friends. Limited edition crow-themed journals and postcards will be available at the gallery, along with creations from other artists in the show. (You can also find my crow-themed creations online via my Redbubble shop.)

Keep your eyes on my socials in the lead-up to the event, we’ll be sharing sneak peeks, behind-the-scenes moments, and maybe a crow or two.

In other news… I’m moving! Over the next few weeks, I’ll be packing up both home and studio to settle into my new forever home, a beautiful brand-new wheelchair accessible apartment that I can’t wait to make my own. There’ll be boxes, chaos, and copious amounts of tea, but I’m so looking forward to sharing more as things unfold.

With the studio in flux, I’ve embraced a slower rhythm and turned my creative focus inward. This winter, I’m stepping into a long form writing project, something I’ve been dreaming of for a while. It’s a way to keep the creative fire burning while my art supplies are packed away, and it’s also a gentle offering to my body, which is calling for rest.

I’ll be diving deeper into this new seasonal writing practice, what it means, why now, and how it’s all unfolding, in this month’s Art Witch Musings. So, grab a warm cuppa and keep reading...

Creativa by Collective 24 exhibition flyer

✴︎ Cycles of Craft — Seasonal & Celestial Shifts in the Studio ✴︎

As we settle into the last weeks of autumn and tiptoe toward the winter solstice, the energies around us shift dramatically. What was outward now draws inward. And the skies above? They’ve got plenty to say about our creative rhythms, emotional landscapes, and inner growth this month.

Gemini Twins

♊ Gemini Season (from May 21)

The Sun breezed into Gemini, and were invited to lighten things up, get curious, and explore new ideas. This season encourages us to ask questions, write, speak, and connect in unexpected ways. It’s a great time to journal, brainstorm, or dive into something new and mentally stimulating, perfect energy for the start of a fresh creative chapter.

🌑 New Moon in Gemini – Tuesday, May 27 at 1:05pm AEST

This is your cosmic permission slip to reset your mindset. A great time to set intentions around learning, sharing your truth, or trying out a new practice (like a different medium or creative tool). Gemini New Moons favour flexible thinking and starting things that involve writing, teaching, or speaking your truth.

♃ Jupiter in Cancer – from June 9 to June 30

Jupiter, the planet of growth and abundance, moves into the deeply emotional sign of Cancer. This transit draws us back to our roots, our families, our ancestry, and our need for safety and belonging. It’s also a powerful time for inner expansion through care, tradition, and gut wisdom. You might feel called to rework your physical space (hello, nesting vibes) or tap into the stories held in your lineage.

🌕 Full Moon in Sagittarius – Wednesday, June 11 at 5:43pm AEST

This full moon brings a burst of fire into the cooler days. Sagittarius energy asks: What do you believe in? Where are you being called to stretch beyond your current limits? This is a beautiful lunation for releasing old dogmas or fears around following your own path. Rituals around fire, freedom, or setting bold intentions are well supported.

❄️ Winter Solstice – Saturday, June 21 at 12:41pm AEST

The turning of the Wheel. The longest night. The sacred pause. Solstice invites us into a moment of stillness and deep inner knowing. This is a time to honour what you’ve let go of and gently begin to dream the next cycle into being. Consider lighting a candle, writing a list of things you’re grateful for, or simply resting. You’ve earned it.

✨ Deep dives into these themes will be shared over at Ange’s Studio on Facebook, so keep an eye out there if you’d like to go further into the energies of each event.

🌌 And don’t forget, there’ll be a Special Edition Post for the Winter Solstice with reflective rituals, journaling prompts, and seasonal musings.

✴︎  Gemini Season Art Journal Prompt ✴︎

An Art Witch’s desk with a journal and art supplies

✨ “How can I embrace curiosity and duality in my creative practice this month? What stories am I ready to tell, and which voices within me need to be heard?”

Use this prompt to explore contrasts, conversation, and playful experimentation in your art. Try layering text, symbols, or fragments of writing to capture Gemini’s lively, restless energy. Let your pages become a dialogue between your many creative selves.

✴︎ Art Witch Musings – Embracing the in-between ✴︎

An Art Witch’s desk with Grimoire and laptop

Chapter One: The Threshold is the Work

As the nights draw longer and the wind hums her secrets through the trees, I find myself slipping gently into the space between. The season invites stillness, reflection, and retreat, so I’m heeding her call. This winter, my studio will be a cauldron of words, warmed by endless cups of tea, witchy tunes on repeat, and bowls of soup stirred with intention. The paintbrushes are resting. The clay sleeps. But something deeper is waking in the pages.

This new section of my Journal, Art Witch Musings, will be home to a different kind of creative work, a long form unfolding. Think of it as the beginning of a book that hasn’t yet decided what shape it wants to take. A zine? A grimoire? A manifesto? All I know is that the first sentence has arrived, and I’m following her down into the dark.

This chapter marks the beginning of a larger body of work that will evolve slowly over the next few moon cycles. It’s part essay, part invocation, part love letter to the liminal. A deeper dive into who I am as an artist and a witch, beyond the social media snippets, beyond the finished artwork.

Because the truth is, what you see, the art, is only the echo. The real work begins in the unseen places. The threshold. The fog. The marrow. Art witchery, for me, isn’t just about aesthetic or vibe. It’s not all herbs and candles (though there are plenty of both). It’s a way of being. A way of listening. A sacred creative practice that weaves together magic, feminism, disability, intuition, spirituality, and the radical act of slowing down.

I work in the liminal spaces that are neither here nor there, moments between moments. This is where my best work brews. As someone living with disability, I already inhabit a different kind of rhythm. Time bends. Energy moves like a tide. My creative process is never linear. It spirals. It rests. It returns.

To live and create in this way is both political and spiritual. It’s a reclaiming of body and voice. A refusal to conform to capitalist productivity or ableist ideals of what a “working artist” should look like. It’s also deeply mystical, a communion with unseen forces, ancestral memory, and archetypal wisdom. I draw as much from the occult, dreamwork, and spiritual alchemy as I do from my physical materials. My art isn’t just inspired by these things; it’s made through them.

The studio becomes a sacred container. The page is an altar. My materials are spell ingredients. Symbols emerge like whispers. Archetypes show up in my dreams and then appear in my work. I marinate in every corner of these liminal spaces, emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, until the art reveals itself.

This slow, chaptered unfolding is an offering, a way to honour the parts of my practice that often go unseen. The compost. The spellwork. The quiet why behind the what.
This winter, I’m letting the words do the heavy lifting and I’d love for you to walk this path with me.

So, light a candle. Pour yourself a cuppa. And join me each moon cycle as I write my way deeper into this practice.
Because sometimes, the most powerful creation happens when we are still.
When we let the fog settle.
When we honour the threshold as sacred.

✴︎ Witchy Little Things ✴︎

An Art Witch’s desk with a journal, candles, crystals and herbs

Resting at the Threshold

This season, I’ve been thinking a lot about thresholds, those in-between spaces that don’t quite belong to one thing or another. The doorway. The dusk. The inhale before the exhale. The moment when you're no longer who you were, but not yet who you're becoming.

Winter, in all her quiet wisdom, is a threshold. She invites us to step away from the noise, to sink into stillness, to listen. Not to fix or push or produce, but simply to be. That is not lazy. That is ritual.

When we choose to rest with intention, we reclaim something that capitalism has tried to steal from us, our rhythms, our softness, our right to pause. For those of us living with disability or chronic illness, this sacred pause is already embedded in our bones. We move with the tide. We honour the fog. But rest, when approached as a ritual, becomes something even more powerful: a spell of resistance, a threshold into deeper creativity, a homecoming to ourselves.

So, this month’s Witchy Little Things is all about resting at the threshold, finding magic in the stillness, the in-between, the quiet moments that hold everything.

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

1. Thresholds Are Sacred
A threshold isn’t just a place, it’s a moment. When I moved from painting into writing this winter, I realised I wasn’t just changing mediums, I was crossing a threshold. These liminal spaces hold potent creative energy if we allow ourselves to pause and listen. You might be in one now. What are you crossing into? What are you leaving behind?

2. Rest as Ritual, Rest as Resistance
Build small, sensory rituals around your rest: a blanket you only use when reading tarot, a mug of herbal tea with a sprinkle of cinnamon, a playlist that signals “rest time” to your nervous system. These moments are sacred. Honour them as you would a spell.

3. The Dreaming Threshold
Dreams are threshold places too, where the conscious and subconscious meet. If you’re feeling disconnected from your creative flow, try resting with intention. Sleep with a crystal or herb bundle beside your bed, journal what arrives in the morning, or use a sigil to invite insight. The wisdom you’re seeking might be waiting in the quiet.

4. Crafting a Threshold Altar
Create a small altar or corner that holds your intentions as you rest. A candle for light, a feather for softness, a key for what you’re unlocking. This isn’t about aesthetics, it’s about energy. A place to hold what’s unfolding, gently, quietly, in its own time.

This winter, let rest be the ritual. Let the threshold be your teacher. Because sometimes the deepest magic happens when we stop trying to shape the world… and allow it to shape us.

✴︎ Artist of the Season: Johanna Warren ✴︎

Born: June 1, 1990 | Gemini Sun
Based in: Portland, Oregon
Mediums: Music, herbalism, ritual performance, healing arts

This season I’m honouring the deeply magical work of Johanna Warren, musician, witch, herbalist, and healer, as our Artist of the Season. Born under the sign of Gemini, Johanna’s music dances across realms: grief and joy, shadow and light, sacred and mundane. Her work feels like a whispered conversation at the edge of sleep, part lullaby, part invocation.

Johanna moves between worlds with ease, weaving music, plant medicine, energy work and ritual into one coherent offering. Her albums Gemini I and Gemini II embody the dual nature of the twins, not just as a concept but as an ongoing, lived experience, one of complexity, contradiction, and transformation. She describes these works as “emotional siblings,” made in response to deep inner reckoning and radical self-inquiry.

As an artist, she doesn’t shy away from pain. Instead, she crafts beauty from it, songs that feel like spells, lyrics that linger like the scent of burning herbs. She has also spoken openly about her path as a healer and witch, using creativity as both a cathartic release and an act of resistance. There’s something powerfully liminal about her work, like a doorway left ajar between worlds.

Her presence in the playlist this month is no accident, I’ve included a few of her songs that speak directly to this month's themes: rest, ritual, the sacred threshold, and the magic of in-between spaces. I hope they wrap around you like a blanket of moss and moonlight.

I hope you enjoy this month’s Winter Playlist, a little sonic spell to accompany your journal practice, your quiet afternoons, your moments of pause.

That’s a Wrap…

Thanks for curling up with this first edition of Monthly Musings, I’m so glad you’re here for the journey.

If you’re local, don’t forget: the Opening Night for the Creativa Exhibition is happening Friday May 30 at Kindred Cameras in Docklands. I’d love to see you there, come say hi, soak up the art, and maybe even take a crow (or two) home with you. There’ll be exclusive merch available from myself and other talented artists.

You can keep up with my studio life, witchy updates, and creative musings over on Instagram @angefosterart and Facebook at Ange’s Studio.

The New Moon astrology report is now live in this month’s Cycles of Craft update, you’ll find that over on Facebook, too.

And if you’re feeling the call to bring a little magic into your everyday, check out my Redbubble shop, browse prints, journals, and other enchanted goodies from the studio.

Until next moon, stay warm, stay inspired, and may your winter be filled with soft blankets, quiet magic, and creative sparks.

Some of the images in this post were created using AI. As a disabled artist living with chronic pain, I use AI tools to support my creative process when physical limitations make traditional methods difficult. It's one of the ways I continue to tell my stories, craft my magic, and share my world, accessibly, sustainably, and on my own terms.

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.