Home Office Charm

How Tracey Emin’s Boldness Deepens My Craft‑Led Approach to Art for Workspaces

A visit that opened a deeper connection

I visited the Tate Modern on a very busy second day of Tracey Emin’s Second Life exhibition. This exhibition runs until August. I went expecting to be interested. However, I did not expect to feel such a strong sense of affinity with her work. Her installation My Bed was there, and I was surprised by how long I stood in front of it. I kept taking it in, noticing the layers, the objects, the emotional charge. There was so much to absorb and I found myself captivated by the honesty of it.

A shelf with blue background featuring many small miniture artworks of Tracy Emin — Miniature paintings and drawings near the entrance at Tate Modern’s show of Tracey Emin 2026

Craft as a language of emotional honesty

As I moved through the exhibition, I realised how many points of connection I felt with her practice. It was not the autobiographical exposure or the presentation of her physical body. That is not where my own work lives.

Handwritten text and appliqué as emotional markers

Picture of Tracy Emins artwork which is blanket with names and dates appliqued. Colours are pink, plue and gold fabric

What resonated was her use of craft. The stitching, the embroidery, the appliqué letters, the handwritten text. These are materials and methods I have used quietly for years. I have worked with fabrics, hand sewing, and embroidered photographs. Yet, I have often felt embarrassed about hand stitching. It seemed to belong to a private world that should not be visible in contemporary art. And I was encouraged to see some of the quilters exhibited in USA art galleries like the Smithsonian.

Stitching and embroidery as serious artistic tools

Seeing Emin’s craft presented with such authority changed something for me. Her materials were not softened or made polite. They were not decorative. They were direct, emotional, and unapologetic. Her applique lettering in particular stayed with me. The uneven edges, the rawness of the cut fabric, the sense that the words were lived rather than designed. It gave me permission to explore signage and text in my own work. Her work told me I could do this without smoothing the edges or making everything tidy in my abstract paintings. It reminded me that clarity does not require prettiness.

Embroidered piece in Tracy Emin’s Tate Exhibition

The expressive power of the drip

I was also struck by the messy drips running down many of her large scale works. They were not accidental. They were not cleaned up. They were part of the emotional structure of the piece. I use drips too. I learned this technique at the Central St Martins course I attended.

Drips as a truthful response to organisational life

A framed abstract art print featuring flowing black lines and light colours, displayed on a white surface with a black base. A small sign indicates the price. — An expressive art print showcasing abstract lines and drips, reflecting emotional depth and honesty.

I often worried that poured pains and drip work make my work look messy or unfinished. But standing in front of her canvases, I understood something important. The drip is not a flaw. It is a form of honesty. In my own practice, the drip acknowledges the realism of organisational life. The parts that are gory, unpredictable, complex, and resistant to cosmetic treatment. To restrain my mark for the sake of prettiness would mean participating in a surface level gloss. This gloss often hides how work actually feels. Emin’s drips reminded me that boldness is not about being loud. It is about being real with the marks.

Where our practices diverge

There are places where our practices diverge. Emin uses her body as a site of truth telling. I use materiality. She reveals the self directly. I reveal it through construction, colour, texture, and layered surfaces. But the emotional triggers behind the work feel familiar. The lived experiences. The internal negotiations. The moments of rupture and repair.

Unmade bed with crumpled sheets and pillows, surrounded by scattered items on a blue rug, including toys and miscellaneous objects. — Tracey Emin’s impactful installation ‘My Bed’, featuring rumpled bedding and scattered personal items, encapsulating emotional honesty.

My work expresses these themes through abstraction and craft. This approach differs from confession. This difference helps collectors understand the kind of presence my work brings into a room. It is not autobiographical exposure. It is emotional resonance.

What this means for art in a home office

As I left the exhibition, I wrote in the visitors book. I wrote about boldness. I wrote about hope. I wrote about the relief of seeing craft treated as a serious artistic language. And I realised that this is exactly what I want my work to bring into someone’s home office. Pride in who they are and how they work. Courage to express their own boldness. Recognition of the complexities of business, economics, and organisational life. Colour and texture that shift the emotional temperature of a room. A sense of companionship from a piece that understands the messiness of ambition.

For some people, this will be a small, bright artwork. It sits on a shelf or desk and lifts the atmosphere of the space. For others, it will be a larger commissioned piece. It transforms a moody or neutral room into something alive. The room becomes grounded and emotionally intelligent. Both are part of the same intention. To bring honesty, colour, and courage into the spaces where we think, work, and make decisions.

Closing reflections on boldness and presence

Emin’s exhibition helps me see my own practice differently. It shows that it sits within a lineage of artists. These artists refuse to tidy the truth. The stitches, the drips, the uneven edges, the layered surfaces. These are not imperfections. They are evidence of a life being lived and understood. They are reminders that work, like art, is rarely neat. There is beauty in acknowledging that messiness. It might sit quietly as a piece of original art on your shelf.

Art that shifts the emotional temperature of a workspace

If you want a piece that brings this kind of presence into your home office, explore the smaller works. They are ready to place on your bookshelf.

If you are imagining something larger and more personal for your space, I would be glad to discuss a commission.

I hope this reflection on Emin’s boldness inspires you to bring a little more of your own boldness into the room where you work.

A Night of Jazz, Art, and Warmth at Ladbroke Hall

London Culture & Places

A Welcoming Evening of Music and Old Friends

I spent a wonderful evening at Ladbroke Hall, catching up with old friends and soaking in the warm, generous atmosphere. Even with a little drama around our drinks, the night felt full of charm, connection, and unexpected insights. The jazz musicians were exceptional, and the space itself — with its lighting, décor, and art — offered endless inspiration.

The Music That Set the Tone

One of the highlights was the bass player, who delivered several impressive solos early in the set. A friend sitting beside me was fascinated by how confidently he stepped forward so soon in the performance. The singer also captivated the room. She performed several Ella Fitzgerald classics and shared stories from her school days as a young vocalist.

She spoke about her work with David Attenborough on TV soundscapes. She told a humorous story about performing My Heart Belongs to Daddy at the Savoy. There was one woman who wasn’t amused. These personal touches made the performance feel intimate and alive.

Enjoying the Jazz ambiance and thoughtful lighting at Ladbroke Hall

The Drinks Drama (and a Lesson in Service)

Our drinks, however, took 90 minutes to arrive. We watched servers glide past with trays of ginger ale and desserts for friends who joined us later. Our own orders, a virgin mojito for me and a cosmopolitan for my friend, remained mysteriously absent.

Eventually, a kind server stepped in, sorted everything out, and even offered us complimentary drinks. The manager became involved too, which added a layer of tension to an otherwise relaxing evening. Still, the staff’s dedication and the server’s kindness stayed with me long after.

Art, Décor, and the Beauty of the Space

I was drawn to the lighting as always. It shaped the room. It softened edges. It created pockets of intimacy. Ladbroke Hall is full of intriguing decorative pieces. These range from the giant Sunbeam car emblem on the staircase wall to the sculpture of a chimpanzee in chains.

One of the sculptured lighting installations at Ladbroke Hall

As an artist, I’m always curious about how spaces hold stories. The symbolism and boldness of these pieces felt like a quiet conversation with my own work. This is especially true for my ongoing exploration of presence. I also focus on emotional resonance and the power of motifs.

I particularly liked how their main lighting installation in the reception area used natural organic fibers.

I use these natural materials extensively in my Sinamay lampshades as well. The gallery below shows how the natural fibers influence lighting and interior vibe right now.

I’m told there’s a beautiful garden on site. There is also an art gallery. I’m already planning a return visit to explore more of the collection.

A Personal Insight on Dedication and Care

One of the most striking aspects of the evening was the attentiveness of the ushers. You give your name at the entrance, and someone personally guides you to your seat. The usher supporting our section must have climbed that long staircase dozens of times. His energy and commitment made me feel genuinely valued.

I even promised myself that if I bumped into him on the way out, I’d ask about his step count. That job must keep you incredibly fit.

Experiences like this always feed my creative practice. They remind me why I’m drawn to creating art that blends presence, symbolism, and emotional connection. Spaces that make you feel both held and inspired have a way of staying with you.

Planning My Next Visit

I’d love to hear about your own experience of Ladbroke Hall. Did you enjoy the music, the restaurant, the gallery, or the gardens? Your insights might help shape my next visit. I’m eager to explore the gallery and see more of the art collection.

If you want to browse my natural fiber lighting section in my Etsy shop, please click on the button below

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Workplace Themes in Akram Khan’s Giselle Performance

London Culture & Places

Yesterday I attended the English National Ballet performance of Akram Khans rendition of Giselle.

It was their final day, and I saw the matinee at 2 pm. I know the original ballet and have seen it at The Royal Opera House. I was mesmerised by the set and the striking choreography.
I especially connected with the reworked storyline. It was set in a factory. The themes about workplace atrocities were strong. The Willis, who are ghost-like characters, were portrayed as the ghosts of workers harmed by their workplaces. This was instead of the original, where they were the spirits of women wronged by their betrothed.

The reworked story resonated with me. It empowered me to continue creating art about how people struggle with workplace relationships and power dynamics. It is indeed OK to show that struggles occur amid toxic work environments. They occur because of the wrangling within their organisation.
The reworking of the Giselle story encouraged me. It showed that creating artworks based on something quite commercial and industrial is not that new and is very possible. Art can highlight the ugly side of human behaviours well while still being portrayed beautifully through art.

If you would like to see the art I created for a home office bookshelf in this vein, you can find it in my shop. The art reflects this style. These nod to the cultural complexities in workplaces. Please click this button to find them in my shop.

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How Bruce Springsteen Inspired My Creative Process

Personal Reflections

I’ve just seen the Bruce Springsteen biopic (Deliver Me from No Where) at my local cinema (Act One). I rushed out on Friday straight after work to see it, catching the early evening show starting at 5:40.

Just one other person was sitting in screen one. Or was it screen two? I was delighted to have the screen to ourselves. Yet I was still worried about disturbing the person in the next row with the rustle of my crisp bag. Although we had the screen to ourselves, I noticed how Act One Cinema is buzzing these days. They had a sell-out event in the lounge. I expected to see a fuller theater. I began to wonder why there weren’t more people attending. There were only two of us watching. This turned out to symbolize a parallel experience to the main story in the film. We were two lone viewers watching the film about Bruce Springsteen’s solitary segment of his journey as a songwriter. We were thus not alone.

I imagine that the film’s marketers would say that I might not be a typical fan of The Boss. This is because I am a 60+ black British female. I deduce this because I rarely see people who look like me in the video glimpses I catch of him singing to his massive audiences. But. I’ve always loved the Rolling Stones. I have even been to their Hyde Park concert in the early 90s. Nevertheless, I never went to a Bruce Springsteen concert.

I received the Act One cinema newsletter announcing the film. Instantly, I wanted to see the movie and booked it.

The ticket booking then took me on a nostalgic journey. I remembered days playing some of Springsteen’s popular tracks on a couple of albums. This was while I worked in Qatar many decades ago (early 80’s). We played Springsteen tunes at dizzy expatriate parties.

I also played his album during moments when I felt alone there. The songs provided comfort when, as a 22/23-year-old, I was far away from home. Many of his lyrics expressed my feelings about home. They made me realise I missed my home folks. They also highlighted my need to celebrate identity. I felt this way even though I wasn’t born in the USA. During those lonely times, Bruce Springsteen’s songs made me feel connected and uplifted.

unmemorable purchase

When I think about buying the album on cassette, I now wonder if it wasn’t a knockoff from the souk. Or perhaps it was an acquisition made during a frenzied shopping moment at the airport duty free. This could have been during one of the trips we did to Dubai or Bahrain. I certainly didn’t buy the Bruce Springsteen album in a cherished way from Tower Records. It wasn’t bought from HMV on Oxford Street. And it definitely wouldn’t be a connoisseur-like buy of a vinyl album. Back in those days, vinyl was what your dad’s music collection was on. Cassettes were the thing in the 80s.

The no Bruce years

When I came back to the UK in 1990, I don’t think I played any more Bruce Springsteen tracks. I recall one cheeky friend critiquing and questioning why I had Bruce Springsteen in my music collection. Then yesterday, I listened to the Nebraska track on Spotify. I was inspired to do this after watching the movie on Friday.

Making sense of the story

This morning, I watched a review of the Springsteen film on YouTube. It was by Mark Kermode and Simon Mayo. They, too, seemed to enjoy watching the film. The reviewers wondered whether the film that was centred on a specific part of Bruce Springsteen’s life had mass appeal. They thought it might be too nerdy among a couple of other things.

I can answer their query by saying that the film did indeed appeal to me. This is true even though I am outside the artist’s obvious main catchment group. I found observing the film’s depiction of Bruce’s creative process mesmerising. It was also very connecting. It really gave me a boost and encouragement around my own creative process. I resonated with the solitude and deep reflection shown in his music writing. He makes cultural connections using TV, film and news. His songs also draw from architecture and childhood memories. These inspirational elements resonated with me. Bruce Springsteen helped me feel less alone about my creativity once again. This time, it concerns the journey and who should be there in my creative process.

Antecedents to the creative process

In the film, there was also an important piece about subconscious messages and depression. It explored how the creation is the product of those surfaced thought processes. It made me recall something interesting I had read. Theresa Amabile, a creativity professor at Harvard, reminds us that Freud said creativity is the sublimation of repressed complexes.

Creativity is the sublimation of repressed complexes.

I particularly connected with the character and musician in scenes where he was searching for his dad. His dad was hearing voices and undergoing mental health challenges. Additionally, dealing with the worry of family members taking their medication was significant for me. It resonated with me. I also went on a journey to find my dad. He faced mental health challenges, too. The film depicted a paradoxical longing for family or home town connection. This longing persists despite being fearful of what you might find when you draw closer. It also showed the physical sickness and nausea felt when we draw near to the conflict. It is a terrifying task that is at hand. The complexities in the relationships with the people we want to support add to this challenge. The film depicted the mess and tensions around these fraught relationships well.

The sickness scene when he was driving to LA matches my memories. I remember using the sick bag on the plane returning to the UK. It wasn’t because of eating something bad. It was due to fear of reconnecting with my old town (London) and family.

My small series of poured-ink paintings and poured art conveys the complex, messy feelings about belonging. Figuratively, these also show the sickness and tensions felt in navigating relationship conflicts on the journey towards achieving psychological safety.

1st step to safety: Ink and poured paint on Yupo and digital

The above shows two segments from my series of poured paintings using alcohol inks or acrylic inks

I’m planning to create a set of stationery and training/meeting room desk decor from these poured paintings. Follow to learn about when these are released. Thanks for reading thus far.

Have you seen the film yet? What did you think?

Natural Shades: Stylish Burlap and Rattan Lampshades

Organisational Aesthetics

Here are a couple of images I took while out shopping. They helped me realize I can offer a collection of natural shades made of burlap, hessian, and sinamay. This collection has a finer and smoother texture than the rough feeling rattan.