Artists turn dead edges into cultural edges, raising identity, safety and prices – and then get priced out, taking the real cultural value with them.

A dream opened like an initiation: a force moving through my hands, then a room answering with impossible demonstrations and tasks. I walked out of that logic, took a wrong turn, and found the right field – a place of makers, where creation itself shaped the way forward.

Had a coffee on the beach this morning. Watched two people out on the water, holding small untethered sails.

At first it looked like they’d brought the wrong equipment. Like someone stepping into the sea with an umbrella..

And then the magic. Got me thinking about artists.

An exploration of art’s true economy – how coherence, courage, and beauty move through the studio as forms of value. Featuring painter Orlanda Broom, whose work traces this living currency in motion.

Visiting Dreamfield: land whales the size of a hypermarché, double rainbows, and images that shimmer then slip away in liminal space. A meditation on imagination, transformation, and creative practice.

A gentle reckoning with wabi and material presence, alongside works by Andrew Szczech.

I’m writing a piece for MoneyWeek, for a collecting supplement on alternative investment. It’s a deep dive into how the art market has moved this past year. I’ll share it when it lands. This is something else. Not a summary or a preview. Just a few things worth noticing. The UBS/Art Basel report arrived, full of […]

Easter Saturday Edition (No. Not a Newsletter. Definitely Not a Backstory.) ⸻ I lost a few followers yesterday, so I thought I’d better tread carefully today. No big statements. No psychic undressing. Just something light. Something gentle. Something like… a person emerging from five days in darkness, peeling off a blackout mask, whispering, “the light […]

It’s always a quiet relief when spring arrives, isn’t it? A kind of reassurance. The evidence of life returns – though we’d seen no sign of it for months. No proof, no promise. And yet, it was there all along. Rooted. Waiting. Responding not to pressure but to the right conditions. There’s something quietly psychoanalytic […]

A Story by Sarah Ryan – a psychic blueprint of the places, images, and choices that shaped New Blood Art before it had a name.