Tell us about the last thing you got excited about.
The last time I got properly excited? Honestly, it was this morning before 6am. I’d just woken from a bonkers vivid dream—so sharp it survived the alarm clock—and while the coffee brewed, I jotted down the bones of it. That sort of dream excites me because unravelling its meaning later feels like opening a puzzle box, always revealing something unexpected.
Then, not an hour later, I was poolside coaching Regional and National-standard swimmers. Exciting in an entirely different way: equal parts daunting and exhilarating. I’ve taught many of them before, years back, but now they’re older, faster, and demanding much higher standards. My job is to step up with them, to insist on discipline and grit—less “fun coach,” more “ice queen.” That stretch outside my comfort zone is exciting too, especially when I catch glimpses of progress in how they respond.
And right now, as I type, my excitement is in ink and paper: a set of three relief prints I’ve been wrestling with for weeks. Getting three to work together as a triptych has been an exercise in patience and small revelations. The thrill is in the little discoveries—like finding the exact tissue paper that gives just the right tinge and texture to the chine-collée.
Excitement, for me, is a rotating current: dreams, swimming, printmaking, stories. If I didn’t find that spark in different places, ADHD would leave me flat. Instead, I let myself ride it from one thing to the next.
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