My Artist in Residency came to an end.

What’s on the horizon?

First poem of the year:

There is a tree it
Rises up slow and
Far reaching with it
I shall grow
Until I only have the
Memory of your hand
Because you’re further up
The path from me
I have so much
Further to go.

By Elinor Rowlands

I shall be curating a Festival of Imbolc featuring 6 Neurodivergent women artists

and

I shall be exploring a R&D on the relationship between trees and the autistic woman body

to

compose new work.