I don’t believe creativity belongs only to the disciplined, the “artistic,” or the professionally trained. More often than not, it belongs to the curious.
Ideas often arrive unpredictably. Sometimes they show up as a line of poetry during a walk on the beach, sometimes as a color palette glimpsed in a dream, and sometimes as a sudden urge to plant sunflowers or sketch something whimsical in the margins of a notebook.
Over time, I’ve learned that the most important thing is not to question whether those impulses are important enough to pursue; it’s simply to follow them.
Some experiments become finished pieces. Others remain half-formed sketches, tangled yarn, or glaze tests that didn’t quite work out the way I imagined. But all of them are part of the same practice: showing up, listening to that inner spark, and making something anyway.
Muses Fled is not meant to be a gallery of perfect work. It’s a record of my curiosity—a place where poems, photographs, fiber projects, garden notes, and small creative experiments live side by side.
If nothing else, it’s proof that even on the days when inspiration feels distant, making something (however small) is still worthwhile.