I moved my art studio home a few months ago before the lockdown began. I set up my desk to catch the light from the sliding glass doors running the length of my living room. Working from home, I go deep into my solitude each day. I paint, write, and thinking about what’s possible for the next few months.

I usually do my weekly artist date on Friday afternoon. The artist date is a practice from The Artist’s Way. It’s a dedicated time each week to nurture your inner artist. This time I decided to take my camera out and go for a long walk around my neighbourhood. The streets were quiet. The sun was bright.

I'm seated on the balcony of a cafe overlooking a rice field. It's a soft blue day in Canggu, Bali, an easy-going beach town filled with open-air bars and trendy hotel. Since hitting the road six weeks ago, I've been on a journey that's taken me around the world.

As I write this, I am seated at a co-working space in Canggu, Bali. I’ve been on the road for 44 days now. Last week I worked out of an art studio in Berawa, a hip little town at the edge of Canggu along the southern coast of the island.

Over the past few months, I’ve sensed a bit of stubbornness, a general disinterest in pretending things are fine with me when they are not. As I worked my way through week 4 of The Artist's Way, I was reminded of my childhood.

By the third week of doing The Artist’s Way, I had found a rhythm and was already starting to see some changes in the way I approached my creativity and expression. The book and process require a good amount of personal reflection and introspection. Writing the morning pages each day meant I was tapping into the feelings and thoughts of each day, and the weekly exercises meant a bit of digging around in the past to understand the present.

I’m heading to New York City next month. I’m so excited to catch up with friends and see how things have changed over the past three years since I was there last. I lived in NYC for 13 years, from 1995 to 2008. I moved there to study architecture at The Cooper Union. Whenever I had a chance, I took elective courses in the art program. Photography was one of my favourite classes.

I recently wrote about how I'm inspired by the calm energy of kaizen, an approach that requires making small, continuous changes over time. I’m playing with methods to develop habits and behaviours to create change in my life. For a few weeks, I experimented by trying out different habits to support my creative exploration, purpose, and well-being.

This is the second in a series of posts about The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, a book and a self-study program developed by Julia Cameron in the 1990s. Cameron begins the week by discussing the ebb and flow of gaining strength and falling back into self-doubt. As we grow, there can be doubt even in the growth itself. Cameron gives some helpful advice — ‘Do not let your self-doubt turn into self-sabotage.’

At the close of last year, I completed The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, a book and self-study program developed by Julia Cameron in the 1990s. The course helped me reclaim my identity as an artist and return to my passions with new energy and confidence. At the start of the course, Cameron introduces a few exercises to repeat over the 12 weeks.

Growing up, my teachers encouraged me to draw as an act of exploration. To let my eyes trace a line, not looking down at my drawing, but instead looking at what I was attempting to represent. I’d let my drawing unfold outside my frame of vision.

This is the first in a series of posts about The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, a book and a self-study program developed by Julia Cameron in the 1990s.

As this year kicks off, I’m experimenting with methods to weave new habits and creative behaviours into my daily routine. I'm inspired by the calm energy of kaizen, an approach that requires making small, continuous changes over time.

Walking the streets of the surf town of Fuerteventura filled me with a sense of wabi-sabi, the Japanese concept of transience and imperfection. In the pale architecture, the wind-beaten murals, the plants filled with blooms and broken branches, the stoney black beaches, there was a sense of nature’s perfect imperfection.