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Not every idea arrives as words. The Gallery is home to artworks, photographs and visual explorations created throughout the inquiry. Some pieces ask questions. Some quietly hold them. Wander slowly, notice what catches you, and see where it leads.

Something's just arrived. The Letterbox is where you'll find upcoming gatherings, exhibitions, workshops, performances, launches and other happenings from across my world. Think of it as the place where invitations land and new adventures begin. Take a look inside. There might be something with your name on it. Image by Kristina Tripovic

This is where curiosity gets the better of us. A song becomes a conversation. A conversation becomes an idea. An idea becomes a work of art. Along the way are performances, podcasts, films, interviews and unexpected discoveries that have caught my attention. Because that's exactly what inspiration feels like. You arrive for one song... ...and before you know it you're watching a Japanese gardener explain moss. Welcome to the rabbit hole.

Some thoughts aren't looking for conclusions. The Ponder gathers the reflections that emerge from the journey—small invitations to slow down, pay attention and see the ordinary with fresh eyes. They aren't lessons to master or answers to collect, but companions for the road. One of my favourite photos - a microscopic hold in a fence post at Blackburn Lake

Three degrees. Pyjamas masquerading as thermal underwear. A borrowed puffer vest. The wrong AFL beanie. Ancient Montreal gloves. Apparently this is what adventure looks like at fifty-two...

A winter field note about productivity, rest and the quiet tension between modern life and the rhythms of nature. What if you're not falling behind—you're simply living in the wrong season? A gentle reflection on slowing down, creativity and becoming.

Set against a backdrop of relentless rain and questionable temperatures, Power Outage examines the fragile illusion that civilisation is held together by little more than Wi-Fi, hot drinks and the reassuring hum of household appliances.

no. 1 In the trilogy: Odes to Ordinary Things I sat down at my desk this morning determined to conquer the day. My body lodged an objection. My neck complained. My shoulders protested. My back submitted a formal grievance. A knee I don't even remember injuring requested the floor. For a while, I interpreted this as resistance. A failure of discipline. An obstacle to overcome. Then it occurred to me that perhaps my body was not refusing to participate. Perhaps it was simply ti

no. 2 In the trilogy: Odes to Ordinary Things This morning I found a to-do list from three weeks ago. Several items remained unfinished. One task had been moved to three separate lists. Another had been circled. Twice. One ambitious item appeared to have been underlined in what I can only assume was a burst of optimism. I considered feeling guilty. The list certainly seemed to think that would be appropriate. Instead, I found myself wondering about all the things that hadn't

no. 3 In the Trilogy: Odes to Ordinary Things I have made a decision. Naturally, this is when the second guess arrives. Not before the decision. That would be helpful. No, the second guess waits politely until I have committed to a direction and then appears in the doorway carrying several alternative possibilities. "Have we considered that this is a terrible mistake?" It raises some interesting points. It always does. For years, I assumed the second guess was an enemy. A sig

The studio currently contains a winter gathering, a magazine, several unruly creative projects, a suspicious number of abandoned cups of hot water, and a growing suspicion that hidden growth is happening whether I can see it or not.

I've been pondering bulbs. Actual bulbs. The kind buried underground for weeks with no visible evidence that anything is happening. Which, it turns out, may have something to teach us about life, growth and becoming human.

a poem of potent prose You created your monster You did an excellent job Congratulations Felicitations For all that you’ve robbed You broke her down But not to restore You pulled her apart And created rot to her core Do you hear those words? Rot to her core Like a discarded piece of fruit All its goodness drained Its sweetness turned to ferment Its nourish evaporated into nothingness The apple doesn’t discard itself It’s bitten and gnawed and chewed and then thrown to the sid

Sketch Comedy piece written for Just For Laughs festival, Montreal. 2004 A senior employee is training a new recruit. Everything is laid out perfectly and neatly. They both have coffee. TRAINER OK, so you know where everything is? You got your coffee? Good, we're ready to roll. Now just let me guide you - don't take too much initiative on your first day. That's when mistakes happen and this is a fast paced job, we can't afford mistakes. Bad things happen JUNIOR Takes a sip of

Poem. Behold No Hold the plant within the seed before the earth or sun or weed Encase her she is fragile, yet strong Water her roots show her belong from roots to shoots her journey will sing when her voice is given the space to take wing with earth and water, air and light she slowly unleashes all her might Within the seed is held the plant as yet untouched but all to grant The richness of the earth determines her birth the water you po

Children's story written for live storytelling event. Montreal, 2001 Cassandra loved Cassandra. In fact, there was nothing the other children could do that she didn't think she was better at. In her opinion she was cleverer, funnier, stronger, faster and better looking than anybody. Most of the other children didn't like Cassandra. They thought she was a snob and would avoid her in the playground. Cassandra didn't care. "I am too good for them anyway," she thought. One mornin