Maps of the Interior

[February 2025]

A detail from a map of the interior.

Dear friends, family and collectors,

I spent this past month in the studio, working on some new paintings, drawings and collages. I also devoted some time to researching literary agents currently accepting submissions for children's books and painstakingly learning how to write a query/pitch letter. And I did this all while I, with great effort and somewhat okay-ish success, tried to stay away from international news. It would be funny, if it wasn't so sad and overwhelmingly concerning. BUT. I promise you now, this newsletter is not about THAT, mostly because there are people way funnier and way smarter than me that are doing a great job at informatively (scarce term these days) and humorously wading through all the tonnes of shit-fuckery (would you really have used a better word? Yeah, I didn't think so) happening globally currently. And no-one does it better than comedian John Oliver on his show Last Week Tonight with John Oliver. Enjoy😎

Perhaps an awesome tattoo?

And so, returning to my quest for getting my book about Sam published, there is a certain amount of bravado and mental preparation needed when selecting which agents to submit to, how many submissions to send out and what precisely to write in your query letter. The bravado is the part of you that writes a "good" query letter, says "fuck it" and submits it to the cream of the crop (let's follow in Oliver Burkeman's footsteps, throw "perfect" in the toilet and go for 70%). The mental preparation refers to "the knowing" (which comes with years of artistic rejection) that most probably 99% of your submissions will end in failure, denial or (worse) the silence of no reply. And just to ease  those worried souls who sees this as a perilously negative view, the optimist in me would like you to know that a 1% acceptance rate is more than sufficient. At this stage, I have submitted to 7, with (so far) 1 refusal and 6 still to be determined. Let the Agent Games begin.

And of course, should it turn out, that I get a 7/7 rejection score, then I'll shed a tear or two, make a frustration-anger-despair filled painting, eat a whole bunch of Marou choco-chunk cookies, put the whole thing to bed for a month or so AND then start again. Thank the gods for art making and Marou🙏

And yes, they are absolutely as delicious as they look. And yes, they are also an excellent balm for heart-ache.

In the studio this past month I've been bringing paper, as a surface, back into my painting realm. Paper, as a medium, is my favourite. The way it absorbs paint allows for such depth. And, once dry, it leaves behind the perfect surface to draw upon. I feel like a cartographer as I gaze at the colour fields left behind by chaos and gesture, mapping out the contours and imprints of marks and movement. All manner of shapes and silhouettes emerge, like a landscape at twilight. To me, abstraction is the language of my own internal world. The colours, the shapes, the movement are all visual descriptions of a vast, rich and otherwise-invisible terrain. I am both voyager and cartographer, carefully plotting and recording what I find.

What is Needed Here. Acrylic paint and charcoal on Baohong Watercolour Paper. 54cm x 38.3cm. 2025.

I am endlessly curious about my own internal world, as well as the inner world of others. When you venture into the interior, there is a different set of rules, a different logic, to that of the external world. Dream-logic prevails, emotions rule supreme and whole lifetimes lay buried in the vast plains of memory. It is no small exaggeration when scientists studying epigenetics state that we carry our entire past (good and bad) within us. The Buddhists, too, have known this for centuries. They say that every small step that you take towards healing yourself, towards caring for your suffering, is a step that you take for your entire lineage. I've always thought of this as such a beautiful way to think about the suffering that we carry, and to know that if we are willing to care for our own pain and trauma then we lessen the load not only for those who came before us, but more importantly, for those that are still to come. Painting and drawing, along with a kind and wise therapist, helps me care for my own suffering. My practice of art making is one of the crucial practices that allows me to tune in, to let out, to let be and to hold.

To Fall Into.  Acrylic paint and charcoal on Baohong Watercolour Paper. 54cm x 38.3cm. 2025.

My prayer for our world is that circumstances will arise that allow for more people to have a greater willingness to recognise their own fear, pain and hurt; and a vulnerability to hold it gently or to ask for help if they do not yet know how. There is no other way if the aspiration for a loving, kind, open, diverse and inclusive society is to be reached. And in all honesty, if that is not the kind of society that we are hoping to create, then truly, what are we doing? Despite all the noise, we are all the same, we are all suffering in one way or another and we all just want to feel held and loved. When one of us suffers, we all suffer, whether we are aware of it or not.

So, may you hold all of yourself gently.

With all my love,

Nicola

PS. As always, if you enjoyed my musings and know of anyone who might also enjoy my ramblings please forward my blog to them, your support will be greatly appreciated. I would also love to hear from you. So any responses or comments or creative stories of your own that you might have and would like to share with me, please reach out!