Last year I started a diary - not something I’d ever done before - but something about scribbling through the chaos felt necessary. At the time I was undergoing cancer treatment, and the act of documenting became it’s own kind of medicine: catharsis, creative output and survival instinct. The diary became Cling Film - a Substack blog that holds together the funny, messy and emotional bits of that experience.

That first-hand experience reshaped how I tell visual stories. Illness slowed me down and sharpened my senses; small textures and fleeting moments became vivid. Vulnerability built empathy and gave me a wider emotional palette, from the silly to the serious and scary. I learned to honour fragility and resilience at once, and to find poetry in the everyday. The seemingly mundane moments made hilarious with Scott the ever-enthusiastic Aussie Physio at the ‘pre-hab’ chemo recovery team; to the really quite deep philosophical moments pondering how I got here, in this moment, in this NHS chair, receiving chemo. These insights now feed every part of my practice—whether I’m illustrating, writing, or creating participatory projects—bringing an authenticity and intimacy that only lived experience can lend.