I previously shared a story of my time in Pádraig Ó Tuama’s poetry retreat, and my lesson in regaining ownership of naming myself an ‘artist’.
Earlier this year, Caitlin Moloney and I were fortunate to spend time at the Tiapapata Art Centre in Samoa for an artist residency.
Imagine this: morning light filtering through the trees near Parakiwai, where Jazz Gilsenan-Fitzgerald’s workshop hums with the sound of planes smoothing wood.
I first encountered Keegan shortly after relocating to New Zealand. I’d developed a persistent penchant – one that endures – for the occasional indulgence in the decadent temptations of local bakeries.
I’ve known Navi Dhillon for a few years now, and we’ve often connected over our journeys in Whitianga and how we came to call it home.
I previously shared a story of my time in Pádraig Ó Tuama’s poetry retreat, and my lesson in regaining ownership of naming myself an ‘artist’.
Earlier this year, Caitlin Moloney and I were fortunate to spend time at the Tiapapata Art Centre in Samoa for an artist residency.
Imagine this: morning light filtering through the trees near Parakiwai, where Jazz Gilsenan-Fitzgerald’s workshop hums with the sound of planes smoothing wood.
I first encountered Keegan shortly after relocating to New Zealand. I’d developed a persistent penchant – one that endures – for the occasional indulgence in the decadent temptations of local bakeries.
I’ve known Navi Dhillon for a few years now, and we’ve often connected over our journeys in Whitianga and how we came to call it home.
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