MUSEletter - Edition 2

MUSEletter Edition 2: The Light in Everything – On Stillness, Creativity, and the Joy of Making - 29.12.2024

Dear friends,

I hope you’ve all had an interesting, enjoyable week filled with good food, meaningful moments, and the company of people you love.

This week in my world, something unusual happened. For the first time in a while, I didn’t produce any new artwork in the studio. Instead, I gave myself permission to step back from painting and immerse myself fully in time with friends and family. And I wondered—what might emerge creatively from stepping outside the usual routine?

At this time of year, I often feel a quiet tension build beneath the surface. It’s beautiful to reconnect with people—I treasure the catch-ups and closeness—but the disruption to my rhythm brings a strange unease. It’s not the change itself, but the imagined change. That voice in the back of my head: Will I forget how to paint? Will I lose my creative edge if I stop making art every day?

But something shifted.

When I let go of that imagined future and leaned into the present moment, I enjoyed myself. And that joy arrived gently, without ceremony.

I noticed a pattern: anything that required my full attention and hands-on engagement brought a quiet kind of happiness. I helped cook Christmas dinner. I lit the Chanukah candles. I played an improvised recorder duet. I reorganised the pantry (turns out, there was space in there). I even made a shoe rack. And yes—there was a Lego lorryinvolved.

These simple acts of doing—manual, embodied, and mindful—left me physically tired in a deeply satisfying way. My sleep improved. The days felt longer, more spacious. And at the end of each one, I had something tangible and handmade to show for it.

A surprise bonus: I stayed away from the digital noise. No scrolling, no checking. Just the quiet pleasure of focus.

And then, something clicked: painting is also a form of making. It’s not just about artistic expression or visual storytelling. It’s about being fully present, like when you’re cooking, building, or reorganising a room. The best painting happens when my attention is undivided. That’s the same meditative quality I found in those everyday tasks. In other words, creativity lives not just in the brushstroke, but in the quality of attention we bring to it.

Time behaves differently when we’re in that state. It stops pulling us forward or backward—it deepens inward. When you’re preparing dinner, you stay attentive so nothing burns. When you’re sawing wood, you focus so the blade doesn’t slip. Even Lego has rules: miss a step, and the whole thing becomes something else. These tasks tether us to the moment, pulling us into the now.

So I offer this thought to you:

What pulls you into the present?

Is it baking? Cycling to a friend’s house? Drawing the view from your window? Writing in your journal? Playing an instrument? Building something just for the joy of it?

You might already know your answer. You might want to experiment. You can tell me, or not. I’m easy.

But I do think this: these creative rituals and simple pleasures are more than just distractions. They’re grounding. They remind us that presence, not productivity, is where the infinite lives.

I have no photo evidence of this week’s creations. No art to show. But I was reminded of an earlier painting I made for a friend, which feels right to share now. It’s called “The Light in Everything” (pictured above).

More next week. Until then—Happy New Year.

Warmly,

Joe

Painter. Maker. Storyteller. Theatre director.