The Whispers of Creativity
It seems that every stage of life throws up challenges, denting your heart and opening the doors to questioning what’s important, and for me, there’s always the whispers from creativity: “let creativity in, yours or ours”.
In the last while, since my beloved mum’s, Helen Stinson, passing, I’ve needed to be nurtured by creativity on a daily basis. Whether it is in another’s, immersing myself in the tales of a novel, being embraced by music or binge watching stories told in film.

Or it is mine with quilting and learning sashiko embroidery, painting and sketching.
I’ve found myself returning to my purposeful practice sketchbook where I’m exploring ways to learn how to paint clouds, sky and seas. Except this time, the purposeful practice is set aside for the shear experience of being in the moment with my paints and paper.
I’m not looking to create anything amazing, I’m just painting. And nothing particularly amazing is flowing through, but I am finding so many elements to appreciate in what I am bringing into being.
Same But Different
My mum and I were close. In many ways similar, in many ways different. Both strong, forthright women who know their own mind. Both creative and makers.
Our similarities could surprise each other. I would make mum’s bed and she said that I was the best at making up a bed. I’d reply with “you taught me how to do it”, and I’d watch it dawn on her why she liked what I did. It was the same with tucking her in at night after she had her stroke. Or packing her picnic basket for our lunches by the water.
At other times she was stunned by our differences; I just don’t care if I miss a meal (I love good food, I just don’t see why we must always have three meals a day!), tidying up for me can mean putting things in piles and walking away (always frustrated her, still makes me smile to myself in a naughty daughter kind of way), not seeing that the bathroom sink needed cleaning – now this one is because I don’t wear my glasses in the bathroom and mum had her cataracts done so could see the need.
The Creativity of Spinning and Weaving
Mum started spinning and weaving in the 1990’s and it lit her up. She joined the local spinners and weavers her at Milton, the Murramurrang Spinners and Weavers, and loved it; the friendships, creativity, making, being part of the annual retreat, the local Milton Show, Friendship Days, the fortnightly gatherings.
It gave her community, it nurtured her creativity and the yearly show gave her a wonderful outlet for her competitiveness. It resulted in Championship ribbons which were a source of deep pride.
Now I go spinning on Mondays and am nurtured by my mum’s friends, taking my stitching along and being given gifts of love by these big hearted women.
Natural Born Organiser
Mum ended up running the annual retreat, being the main steward for the Spinners and Weavers display at the show, organising the Friendship Days and more. Now there are committees within the group to do what mum did.
I’ll confess to finding it quite funny when I hear one of the ladies on a committee complain that there is so much to do for organising the retreat.
I don’t think there is, you just get organised and it comes together. Another similarity with my mum.

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Listening to Creativity
Again creativity is whispering (or finding a megaphone) to say come be involved, share what you’re making with other like-minded, kind hearted souls. Let yourself be cared for as they show you their love for your mum and for you too.
So I’ve gone along to spinning and I’m off to the quilters to have help with a border design that is beyond my grief laden head.
These quilt ladies all knew and loved my mum too. Mum taught me to quilt and made a beautiful big hexagon quilt for my 21st birthday. She was scared that I wouldn’t like it and I immediately loved it.
I was stunned and amazed, silent for too long initially that in her nervous state, feared that I hated it. I loved it then and I love it now. It is on my bed right now, even though I should probably be using it less so to preserve it.
Creative Channels
Yet mum found her love for spinning and weaving totally outshone her other creative channels.
The quilting ladies were very excited to have me enter a quilt with them at this year’s show. Mum was enormously proud of my Second place for it in the hand quilting section. I quilted it in the evenings when I was 24/7 caring for mum, during the couple of hours between when she’d gone to be and I went to mine.
When asked who taught me to quilt they were surprised that it had been mum. So now these ladies are getting to show their love and regard for Helen Stinson by welcoming with joy her daughter with open arms, to help with a quilting dilemma.
A Love for Designing
I thoroughly love designing, sewing and stitching quilts. But my design head is hammered at the moment with the effects of grief. Thoughts start but will so often just disappear. I was thinking that they were dropping off, but it isn’t even that, they just go!
So figuring out how to effectively use the remaining pieces of fabric for this additional border I’ve decided on is just too hard at the moment. I know I have enough material, and I did have it figured out but I didn’t write it down (!!!!). And the plan is off in the never never now. Time to ask for help.

Connecting in the Digital World via Charity Collaborations
Growing followers on social media is another advantage.
Charities often promote collaborations through their platforms, exposing the artist to a broader audience.
Engaging content related to the collaboration increases shares, likes, and follows.
It also gives you great content for your own social media profiles and artist newsletter, which can often feel like a challenge to always be coming up with fresh and interesting content.
Your Artist Newsletter
Newsletter subscribers also increase when an artist takes part in a charity collaboration.
Supporters of the cause are likely to sign up for updates, offering artists the chance to nurture relationships with potential buyers and art enthusiasts.

Paths Back to Creativity
It’s been through that immersion in other’s creativity that I’ve found paths back to longer periods of concentration.
I can read a novel for hours, it’s like being in my kayak and flowing along with the tide of words and story. But if I put down the book for a day or two it is a struggle to recall what came before in the tale.
And when I wasn’t reading, having time to ponder my lost thoughts were driving me around some bends and my heart would ache more and more.
So back into the novel I would go and comfort I would find.
I’d finish one book and start another in the morning. Pots of tea being refreshed, Nutella croissants devoured (allowing only one per day), occasional breaks to paint the light, the sky, the water and to go for a low tide walk.
Flatten by Exhaustion
I’ve been in a state of exhaustion from the months of stress, of 24/7 caring, of getting up earlier and going to bed later so I could look after mum, of no breaks, no weekends off because the weeks just rolled into each other, tumbling by.
I hadn’t realised just how exhausted I was from the caring until in the final week with mum there were a string of near sleepless nights as her pneumonia was causing delirium. Dreams would appear so achingly real to her that it became distressing for both of us.
As we tried to figure out what was happening it became apparent that our little local hospital was the best place for her. It was where the pneumonia was found on an X-ray (it can be such a sneaky illness, doing harm while so good at cloaking itself) but it had taken root and wouldn’t respond to powerful antibiotics. I stayed with mum throughout her last night, holding her hand as she passed in the morning light.
By the time I got home I knew I was exhausted. Amongst all the phone calls and texts of that morning I kept promising myself I would have an afternoon nap and an early night, that I’d be fine.
I wasn’t fine, I was exhausted for weeks! Between carer’s exhaustion and grief exhaustion I was shattered. So I went to bed early, slept in and had afternoon naps for more than a month.
Finding Respite in Creativity
The only true respite from it was the surrendering to creativity and to watching nature do its thing from our back deck.
Family and friends did a beautiful job looking after me but I have needed time just to sit with this new life now.
Mum’s friends expressed their love for her by crafting the most beautiful bouquet of flowers from their gardens for her woven wicker basket casket that went along side her Champion ribbons. Such care was taken to make this final gift so gorgeous, once again allowing creativity to flow with this tribute that warmed all of our hearts.
Learning to Deal with the Exhaustion of Grief
Every week has something more happen that sets me back on my haunches, whether it is collecting mum’s remains or her certificate and getting it off to the lawyers, dealing with the car registration, insurance agency (NRMA have been great), talking with Centrelink (also very caring), getting her off the electoral role, the list goes on and on, week in, week out.
I come home exhausted again, and this time I know it is grief. So I make a pot of tea and grab a novel or my paints and let myself be absorbed in creativity so I can replenish my spirit.
All these weeks on I’m realising that I’ve been gently and slowly healing.
I’m still easily undone but I know that is part of the journey of grief. The comment on the ABC news this morning from a Palestine lady about how women are struggling with their ill mum’s being trapped in Gaza had me sobbing over breakfast. The trauma of not being able to look after your elderly mum when she needs you is overwhelming for me. It is the same as not being able to look after your child.
We all need to look after each other with love and kindness, enable agency and independence, be an advocate and speak up for others.
Creativity and Belonging
To belong to nurturing and supportive groups that let us safely and joyously express our creative selves, where we learn new skills, explore ideas and grow together and separately, comfort and celebrate each other.
For me, the various paths I’ll be moving along towards healing will be paved with creativity. Without creativity I think I’d shrivel up and perish from the inside out. Instead, I’ll heal and grow from the inside out.

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The Dream of a Little Art Farm in Tasmania
Mum and I talked a lot about my dreams for a little art farm in Tasmania, they gave her joy, especially the idea that her beloved spinning wheels and looms will find a new life there with me. That they’ll be part of an artist residency for Spinning Guild members to use (her stipulation).
There will also be workshops and art treats, a space for creative groups to meet regularly, and with it all growing over time.
An eco-art farm with gardens and groves of trees and proteas, beautiful outside spaces, cozy inside spaces and a culture of kindness, joy and creative exploration.
These creative dreams of mine gave mum comfort and happiness, knowing that something special and quite amazing is ahead for her beloved daughter.
So I will pack up this home I’ve shared with mum into a shipping container and find a beautiful slice of Tasmanian joy to craft into a new home, a new life focused on creativity and community.
And what better space to heal and flourish than being immersed in creativity at an eco-art farm in Tasmania?
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