MUSEletter - Edition 3
MUSEletter Edition 3: Quiet Dreams, Creative Hands – A Winter Reflection from the Studio 05.01.2025
Dear friends,
I’m writing this from beside the fire, eating a leftover mince pie (a generous gift from Mark downstairs) and sipping a coffee I ground with my electric drill. Yes, really. It’s a surprisingly efficient method—ask me if you want the hack.
It’s mild out today, and the short winter days are finally starting to stretch. Rain is tapping gently on the studio roof. There’s a stillness in the air—as if the world is paused between endings and beginnings. You can almost feel everyone inhaling deeply before the year kicks in again.
This past week has been filled with quiet joys. I caught up with old friends. I watched New Year’s fireworks glitter across the estuary. And in between those moments, I’ve been making things—not just paintings, but objects. Shelves. Small furniture. Playing with wood, tools, colour. There’s a pleasure in turning raw material into something useful and beautiful. The process of making—whether it’s building, painting, or composing an image—always returns me to myself.
Like painting, these acts involve a kind of embodied attention. A brushstroke or saw cut gone wrong, and the whole piece shifts. In both, I’m reminded that creation isn’t just about expression—it’s about presence.
My studio is currently in a glorious state of chaos—canvases propped against every wall, pastels tucked into odd corners, paint rags everywhere. Tomorrow, I’ll give it a clear. (Expect a before-and-after shot in Museletter 4.)
This week’s soundtrack has been Stan Getz’s Corcovado—a warm and unhurried tune I’ve played on repeat. There’s a line in the lyrics that landed softly in me:
“Quiet thoughts and quiet dreams. Quiet walks by quiet streams.”
That’s the feeling I want to carry into my work this year. A bit less noise. A bit more depth.
✨ What’s Coming Up:
I’ll be releasing a new series of prints soon—if you missed the originals on the art trail, this is your chance to bring one home.
I’m also working on a new large-scale oil painting that brings together recurring figures and motifs from the past year. Think: layered memory, fragmented light, and the ache of tenderness.
If you’re interested in studio visits, commissioning a piece, or joining my collector’s list, reply here or sign up on my website.
🎧 And if you’re in the mood for that Getz track, here’s the album cover to click and listen:
More soon. Until then—wishing you a peaceful return to your rhythm.
Warmly,
Joe
Painter. Theatre-maker. Builder of worlds, both literal and imagined.
P.S. Have a favourite track you work to or unwind with? I’m always on the hunt for new listening. Hit reply and share it with me.
P.P.S. If you’ve been enjoying the MUSEletter, consider forwarding it to a friend who might like a weekly note on art, memory, and making things with your hands.