The year of the fire horse has arrived! With it, we move into considering the craft of photography.

I love the synchronicity of exploring an art that is created by capturing light while we mark a lunar new year illuminated by fire. The new moon is a time of darkness - but the spark is already present.

When I was initially thinking about how to design The Total Artist as an online experiment, I questioned where photography should fit.

In one sense, it belongs in the world of visual art - this is an obvious kinship. While the tools may be different (a camera versus a paintbrush), the output of an image is the same.

However, most of us will have a very different relationship to photography than we do to drawing/painting/sculpture/etc. The way we engage with these two mediums is, on the whole, wildly dissimilar.

It is almost impossible - as a human being and as an artist - to exist in today’s world without becoming a creator of pictures and film in some capacity. This is how we document and share our lives and our work.

Photography is inescapable.

So to me, it felt like photography deserved its own period of reflection, distinct from the experience of drawing or painting.

We’re going to be exploring the discipline of photography from two angles - first, pictures as an embodiment of stillness, and then film as an embodiment of movement.

I’ll be sharing a video to explore this topic in more detail in the coming days; but at this moment what struck me the most was the moment of initiation: considering where we begin.

Writing this post, I realised anew how often I reach outward for inspiration before looking inward to my own experience. It’s a reflexive impulse - to search, to seek out a frame, to find the experts, and most of all, simply to fill the void that is inevitably opened by the existence of a question.

Those external influences have huge value.

Yet something is lost when we don’t take the moment first to check in with ourselves and identify our own experiences and ideas.

I gain so much more out of creative explorations when I first contextualise my own curiosity - considering what this calls up from my past, what preconceptions or areas of naivete might be colouring my view. How does this topic already operate in my life? What are my feelings about it? Where can I dig deeper? What opinions have I already uncovered simply through the process of living?

There is always something there - and the results can be surprising. They sometimes show me that the stories I am attached to are blinding me to deeper truths. And other times reveal that I know more than I realised.

By looking inward first, we become so much better prepared to receive wisdom from outside ourselves - and most importantly, we won’t miss the hidden knowledge that already exists within.

As we embark on exploring this new discipline, I’d invite you to just notice how photography works in your own life.

• Where do you reach for the camera?

• Where do you shy away?

• What photographs are burned in your memory?

• What do you think should never be photographed?

• What is your impression of photography is an art?

• Where do you see your relationship to it?

It’s enough to carry these questions with us and let them reveal themselves. While dedicated time for journalling and thinking has huge value, insights can also crop up at the most unexpected moments - when our subconscious mind gets the chance to bubble to the surface, unimpeded by direct focus.

Whether we realise it or not, we are pioneers.

Photography was invented around 1826 according to google - this is a comparatively new art. (Compare this to sculpture, which dates back tens of thousands of years.)

It’s quite exciting to be part of the story with an art form that is in many ways still so young. As we participate in it, we are also shaping it - with every photo we snap of a really good meal, a beautiful sunset, or a child sleeping with arms splayed.

In these moments, we are determining what deserves to have attention paid.

And the best place to start in understanding the significance of this, is with ourselves.

For now,

Alli

I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about poetry during this fortnight (as part of a yearlong creative experiment), and the role of mystery - how to make sense of the strange and inexplicable in this world we inhabit.

The chaos of living

Life is seeming a bit messy right now - I’ve been experiencing this myself, and witnessing it with others over the last couple of weeks.

Moments like…

Showing up for my driving test - but arriving 10 minutes late because my instructor wrote the numbers of the time down wrong, and I failed to double check, thereby narrowly missing it…

Arriving at my second hospital appointment of the day (just routine scans luckily!) to be told it is actually taking place in a separate building and I have to rush across town to try to make it in time…

Or being informed that I have inexplicably been unregistered as self-employed after paying tax without issue for nearly two decades…!

All these things have turned out okay. My driving test has been rescheduled, and by pulling some strings my instructor managed to get me a test in a couple of weeks rather than the standard 6 month wait. The doctor couldn’t see me that day, but I didn’t have to come in again because my hospital appointment was switched to a telephone call. And the tax issue was actually not a problem at all, just an administrative glitch.

I wish I could say that even in the heat of the moment I had enough self-awareness to recognise that none of these were huge disasters. But the stress at the time was unbelievable. It takes a lot of time and energy to manage these things - not just the work itself, but the feelings that come with them: frustration, annoyance, boredom, and of course the unnerving sense that you might be going just a little bit crazy.

For me, it is unquestionably the emotional energy that makes these tasks so draining. It calls forth that feeling of why isn’t the world working!? And yet, the more that things go wrong, the more that the inherent absurdity of life is revealed.

There is something strangely liberating about accepting that events will never be completely within our control.

I could feel the change in my response as this cluster of events formed. With the driving lesson, I cried. The tax issue, I muttered a few juicy profanities. But by the time the hospital appointment rolled around, I stood there, dripping from hurrying through the rain, and I couldn’t help but laugh. (Which fortunately broke the tension beautifully with the bewildered receptionist.)

The moments where we get derailed from our grand plans by dealing with the uninspiring admin and mixups of life are not aberrations - they’re part of the authentic experience of being alive.

When we insulate ourselves from inconvenience, we are separating ourselves from life itself.

Poetry as alchemy

This recent series of strange glitches takes me back to a moment in 2020 - when I got to experience firsthand the power of poetry to transform experience.

It was during Covid, when I was still strongly feeling the effects of cancer treatment. My energy was limited to the point that even things like unloading the dishwasher would require lying down and having a rest afterwards.

As I remember it, in this particular chilly week, someone (okay, it was me) had failed to shut the freezer door properly after carefully packing away leftovers. Unfortunately, this was not realised until the next day, when the ice had overgrown so badly that it was no longer possible to close the door at all.

So instead of the day I had planned, I had to throw out all the food, which was no longer safe, and defrost the freezer. The energy I was expecting to be able to focus on creativity I was going to be spent chipping ice and wrangling cracked plastic drawers.

I was frustrated and sad, especially because every moment where I actually had enough energy to be active felt so precious. Was I really supposed to waste it on this thankless task? How could the universe be diverting my focus this way when I have important priorities like making art!

At first, I was designed to the day being a write-off. But as I became focused on the task, I discovered I was finding it strangely satisfying to put this problem to rights.

And then I thought…

Hang on… What if I write a poem ABOUT defrosting my freezer?

The magic of poetry is that it is wily and flexible - it can slip into the cracks of life, letting us jot down a few lines here or there to capture moments that would otherwise be lost to time and memory.

So while I sat on the floor in my little kitchen, I also took out my phone and typed a tiny poem.

It’s not my most sophisticated work, but I really love this poem because to me, it marks a refusal to be defeated by the forces of domestic anarchy. Even just having those few minutes for poetry transformed my day.

And it turned that thankless task from something to trudge though, to an opportunity to look for and find meaning in the details of our experience.

This is why I think poetry has a unique power to bless the mundane in our lives. When we turn little moments in our lives into poems, we open doors to significance and gratitude - or perhaps it’s more true to say, we make visible the magic and meaning that were there all along.

A poem (for you)

Ice

If someone had told me
That adult life means
Getting excited about
Defrosting a freezer
I would have run away
To neverland
Years ago.

Yet here I am,
Watching ice melt
And gleefully collecting
The fallen chunks,
Symbols of my victory
Over chaos
And cold.

Addendum: How this poem has changed for me over time

It was interesting revisit this poem in 2026 and to experience how my relationship with it has changed since it was written.

Anything with the word ‘ICE’ in it takes on a different layer of meaning in light of the news headlines at the moment. The significance feels very different today than it did 5 years ago when I wrote the poem.

We make what we make - but the world around us will inevitably reveal new layers we could never have imagined.

In fact, it seems to me that the idea of the importance of melting ice seems to take on a new meaning, and has never felt more timely…

What can you transform with poetry now?

Even a single word has power. And you don’t have to think of yourself as a ‘poet’ to tap into the power of language.

Poetry is - or should be - for everyone. And nothing is too insignificant to warrant attention. If we need inspiration, all we have to do is look around us; if what’s happening is defrosting the freezer (and removing problematic ice) then so be it!

For now,

Alli

P.S. If you’d like to hear this poem read aloud, pop on over to my Instagram: @alligatrrr.

Image: AI generated to author prompt

TLDR: You will NOT be charged for being on this email list, unless you take the extra step to sign up as a paid subscriber. (You can still get most of Total Artist for free!)

I got a note this morning that made me realise that my email yesterday left things unclear about what turning on paid subscriptions means. Sorry about that!

(I’ve spent so much time on Substack that it’s easy to forget these features probably aren’t clear for folks who aren’t as familiar with the platform.)

Yesterday, I mentioned that I’m going to activate the option for people who would like to pay to support this newsletter. (Up to this point, I’ve kept this feature completely disabled.) This means there is the option to put some work behind a paywall.

What does this mean for you?

• If you do nothing, you will continue on this newsletter’s FREE tier

• For folks who want to opt in to supporting this work financially, there will be an option for people to pay

• Finally there is an extra tier for folks who want to contribute at a higher level

I’ll still be offering free content - including material from The Total Artist.

I know times are tough for a lot of folks out there, and people are warmly welcomed to continue as readers at whatever level works for them.

And I hope it goes without saying, you would NEVER be charged without your knowledge and consent.

For most people, nothing is going to change. You don’t need to do anything.

If you have any questions or concerns feel free to drop me a line. :-)

For now,

Alli

Hello friends,

When I was a kid, my mother loved recounting the story of Thomas Edison trying to build a lightbulb.

It was a laborious process, going through hundreds of designs.

In her retelling, Edison was asked how it felt to have failed so many times. (The number of times depending on her mood - 700, 10,000, who knows!)

His response?

“I haven’t failed ten thousand times - I have discovered ten thousand ways NOT to make a lightbulb.”

The point was, each of those efforts brought him closer to the model that would eventually succeed - a valuable reminder that things rarely succeed on the first attempt.

Failure as feeling our way through

That story has been on my mind a lot recently.

It’s been years since I first started developing The Total Artist: An Adventure in Expressive Living - if you are currently a subscriber to this newsletter, there is a good chance you’ve experienced part of this!

I’ve played with a few iterations of putting this work out into the world. Repeatedly, I’ve ended up derailed by big life events: things like bereavement or serious illness.

There are times it’s made me think maybe I should give up on this project. Maybe I have bitten off more than I can chew, or have a subconscious that is secretly in rebellion that doesn’t want to stick with it.

But I believe there is a reason I am still consumed by this idea, which contextualises all these false starts. They are discoveries along the path of how not to do it, so that I can find the way that feels right.

It’s really not so different from making art, is it? Once inspiration arrives, it generally takes multiple tries (often falling flat on our faces) to actually bring it to life. I have pieces I have lived with for over a decade because they haven’t ripened yet.

With The Total Artist, I keep feeling:

The execution has been flawed, but the idea is solid.

I take it as an encouraging sign that each time I’ve attempted this project, I’ve gotten a little bit further along the path before things fizzled out. This seems to suggest that I am at least heading in the right direction.

And there are always treasures along the path of our abandoned attempts. Slowly but surely, I’ve been building the skills (hello, basic video editing!) that I think will let me finally bring it to fruition in the way that I’ve imagined.

And so, with humility and hope, I am bringing this project back for 2026.

The Total Artist 2026 - What’s new!

I’ll be reviving The Total Artist with a few twists that I think will make it more sustainable for me, and also more useful for the people who are joining me in the experiment as well.

1. Switching to fortnightly newsletters. Instead of trying to send out a detailed weekly newsletter, these will come out every two weeks. This will give me a bit more space to develop quality material on each topic (and a buffer to stay on schedule if life gets chaotic in the meantime!).

2. Inspiration mini-doses on Instagram & Substack notes. In the space between these newsletters, I’m going to be making mini videos to share on Instagram. This is a chance to capture passing thoughts about art-making and small steps along the journey with each medium we’re exploring in a way that is more lightweight and flexible. (And my plan is also to put these on Substack notes for the people who want to avoid Instagram - so watch this space!)

3. Keeping lots of free content, while turning on paid subscriptions. I’ve been hesitant to put on paid subscriptions for this newsletter in the past, even though people have pledged to subscribe without me even asking. (To you kind souls, thank you!!!) But I think it’s time. This support will help me to safeguard the time and space needed to do this properly, so I am going to enable this option for those who would like to support this work.

4. And starting today, a little preview! Which leads us to…

Artist’s Advent - daily creative inspiration for December

During this advent season, I’m going to be running an Artist’s Advent on my Instagram. If you follow me at @alligatrrr, you’ll get a daily dose of creative inspiration. (And experimenting with sharing on Substack as well.)

The goal is to get us warmed up and ready to tackle The Total Artist experiment in the new year!

Hopefully this will be a fun way to stay connected to creativity during a time when the days are short, life is busy, and headspace can be hard to find.

Finally, a little peek at what I’ve been up to in my artistic life…

Although I’ve been quiet on this newsletter, I have nevertheless been busily making art, so I thought I’d share details from a few recent projects.

I’ve contributed some poems the Koestler Arts: Night Owls and Abstractions exhibit at the Southbank Centre. It’s an amazing exhibition curated by Inua Ellams that showcases the art of people within the criminal justice system. It’s FREE(!) and running through 14 December, so if you happen to be in the area, I really recommend checking it out. (The poems don’t have names attached - to match the paintings - so see if you can guess which ones are mine!)

I fulfilled a bucket-list dream of singing Carmina Burana with the London Chorus - amidst a choir of 400 people at the Royal Albert Hall no less!

My songwriting partner Bella Barlow and I have revived our Christmas Cabaret - we will be performing this Sunday 7 December at Crazy Coqs. The show is sold out, but if there are any returned tickets they will put them on the website! (If you want to be sure to hear about our Barlow & Smith events, in the future, our mailing list is here.)

Thank you for sticking with me this far.

In the months to come, there are some personal essays I’d like to write about what’s happened in my life during the time I’ve been quiet on here.

But in the meantime, please know that I’m grateful to you for reading and supporting my work.

I do firmly believe - art is more fun when we make it together. Thanks for being part of my community. :-)

For now,

Alli

Photo by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash