Opening the Cupboard

Lately I’ve been thinking about the way this blog has grown — how it has held my small stories, my sketches, my quiet moments, and the things I notice when life slows down enough for me to see them. Art in Cupboard has always felt like a place where I tuck away pieces of myself, the way someone might keep tiny notes, ideas, fragments or drawings in a drawer they open only when the room is still. This blog is an old wooden cupboard, mismatched, and painted in my own colours of surprises.  Its surface holds fingerprints of years, brushstrokes of moods, and the soft shine of being touched often.

 

And somewhere along the way, I realised that this cupboard of mine has many drawers.

Some open into memories.

Some open into stories.

Some open into art.

Some open into reflections or fragments or the small, ordinary moments with my children.

Some will hold sketches.

Some will hold thoughts.

Some will hold the soft beginnings of ideas.

Some open into randomness — the kind of thoughts that arrive uninvited and stay anyway.

So I’ve decided to let my posts follow that rhythm. Not a strict a system — just a gentle way of noticing where each piece belongs. Each post will be like opening a drawer and seeing what waits inside. Some drawers will hold finished things, some will hold beginnings, and some will hold the quiet in‑between.

I want the cupboard to feel like a home for the things that matter — the thoughts, the emotions, the art, the ideas that shape the way I move through the world. Every drawer holds a part of me — not tidy, not matching, but true. This cupboard is not a brand, not a business, not a performance. It is simply the place where my creative life lives.

And yesterday, I opened the first drawer — the Drawer of Silence — and found my old sketchbook waiting for me. It felt like the right beginning.

There will be more drawers to open. More small things to find. More pieces of life to place gently inside.

For now, I’m simply glad to begin.