Creative Process & Development | March & April 2025
Spring Threads: Notes from March & April 2025
Mid-May brings with it the soft nudge to pause and look back. March and April passed in their own rhythm, full of shifting light and inner movements. Spring, as always, arrived with its quiet insistence to grow, and life began to run differently. Here are some threads from my creative process these past two months.
Leporello Workshop Scene
Drawing Trees: A Daily Quest
March began with the quiet intention of drawing a tree every day. It was a practice that felt steady, grounding, and quietly revealing. And still, there was the sense that I couldn’t quite do the trees justice—not in their beauty, not in their rooted presence, not in their wild character.
In April, I set out to continue the practice. But something shifted. Spring arrived, and with it a pull in many directions. I lost the thread of daily drawing, and instead, found myself meditating more. I’ve noticed this pattern before: that when the season changes, my practices often shift, too. The trees are still there, but in a different way now—less on paper, more in presence.
Leporello Workshop: The Beauty (and Challenge) of Precision
In March, I attended a 2-day workshop on crafting a Künstlerbuch—a Leporello—taught by Andreas Kramer at the community college. I had taken a workshop with him years ago, and once again, this one nudged me out of my familiar ways.
Andreas brings a rigour and precision that don’t come naturally to me, but the outcomes reflect the care he brings to the process. I created three Leporellos during those two days—two still waiting for small finishing touches. And oh, that glue! There’s something deeply beautiful in what we can create with our hands. But this also takes time, patience, and a steadiness I’m still learning to cultivate. Eight full hours of crafting felt like actual work in a way that a scattered hour or two rarely does. That felt new, and important.
Infographic Workshop “Sketchnote-Style”
Another March workshop invited me into the world of infographics in sketchnote style. It was part reminder, part new input—a space to affirm what I already knew and to expand the ways I might use it. I'm still sitting with what wants to grow from that seed.
Printmaking Explorations: Gelli Plate Evenings
While the daily tree drawings faded in April, another practice grew in their place. I spent many evenings with my Gelli Plate—printing, experimenting, layering, sometimes just quietly watching a film while working in the background. I'm very glad I invested in a larger format (203 x 254 mm), which has become a favourite for creating backgrounds for pages and spreads. Almost A4-sized, and just right.
On holiday, I began drawing over some of these prints—adding scenes from the day, layering memory and color. There was something light and enjoyable in that play. I can feel that this is only the beginning; there's more to explore here. The whole printmaking world feels like an invitation to go deeper. This summer, I’m hoping to take another screen printing class, and maybe even dive into Holzschnitt or Cyanotype. Note to self: sign up for summer classes at VHS.
Graphic Recording during the Art of Hosting Training Berlin, March 2025
On Harvesting: Making the Harvest Matter
POA-Formula
Harvesting—the art of surfacing collective wisdom and insight from group processes—has long been a core part of my work. In recent months, it had slipped a bit to the background. But during the Art of Hosting & Harvesting training in March, something reawakened.
In one Open Space session on "How to make the harvest matter?", we explored the speed of moments in group processes. How easily we can rush through what feels like "the result" and lose essential threads. Especially when conversations stretch long, the final harvesting often feels pressed for time. What gets lost? What remains?
We spoke about inviting in multi-sensory, multi-modal ways of harvesting—and practicing the courage to actually use them. And we explored POA: Patterns, Outliers, Absences. What do we see, and what don’t we? What do we privilege, and what do we ignore—in hosting, in harvesting, in life?
This conversation stayed with me. It reminded me how necessary this practice is, and how it asks of us to stay present not just to what is said, but also to what is not yet voiced. I may write a separate piece on this, just to carry it a little further.
For now, this is where I am: among trees and prints, glue and Leporellos, insights and absences. Letting practices shift with the seasons, and listening for what wants to be tended next.