What remains in our hands
The Voynich Manuscript draws me in because it refuses to be fully explained. Its writing has never been deciphered and among its strange symbols are plants, celestial diagrams, and a bunch of images of naked women in baths and flowing channels of water. We don’t know what these pages mean. Maybe that uncertainty is part of what moves me: they leave room for us to imagine what has been lost, hidden or will never be fully understood.
Like we as women are never really fully understood as well.
I think about how rarely our culture has truly valued the feminine: its knowledge, its body, its power. So much of it has been dismissed, misunderstood, or pushed out of the stories we tell. I want that feminine force to live in my art. As something wild, ancient and entirely its own. Nothing inspires me more than this strength and magic and the ways men have tried to take it from us or make us forget it was ever ours.
I’m also currently working on my first solo exhibition that will be in autumn 2027 and i feel so grateful. Being surrounded by my art makes me think about how much it means to create with my hands: to shape something, to work with materials, to literally feel the raw earth beneath my fingers.
I’ve just ordered my own pigments and I want to begin making my colours myself. It feels like another way of getting closer to where things come from.
For me, making music is also an outward process, not only an inner one. It happens through contact with the world around me: with a room, an instrument, the weather, the sounds of a place. Over the years, I’ve collected so many field recordings outdoors and I want to bring them further into my work. I want to collaborate more with nature, to let the wind, the ground, and the small sounds around me become part of what I make. I don’t want to create only from within myself.
I want to create in relationship with the world.
a tiny snippet from one of the songs.
Totem