volume 2 december, 2025
the DOLLhouse dispatch
🖤
sojourn for the soul
image: (roads high & low (2025)
acrylic paint & ink, A4)
moment of musing
sojourn for the soul
firstly, I need to thank Edwin & Christine for getting married 🖤 🖤 🖤
not only are they a wonderful couple (that we happily flew 30hrs to celebrate), but they managed to do it on possibly the hottest day in London’s history, at possibly the hottest venue in the world, while being possibly the hottest new wife-&-husband duo alive. All of this gave me the perfect excuse to execute my dream “hot Scottish summer”!
just prior to the wedding, I’d been unwell for months. My immune system & joints were in an annoying state of rebellion, and the Australian winter was not helping. When presented with the perfect chance to chase a little extra summer- even a UK one- I took it.
I stayed to see what would happen if I lived alone for a while in a place that felt both brand new, and strangely like deja vu. I based myself in Glasgow- real ones get the westie energy- and rented a studio. It was surprising to paint into the long, unhurried light of night.
so, even though this wasn’t necessarily branded or intended as a “finding myself” trip, it somehow became a sojourn for the soul. My soul.
somewhere between the excruciatingly air-con-less accommodations, sunny showers, improbabilities of puffins, the moody landscape, and the people who were kind, cheery & encouraging for no reason except- they were- I had a chance to think about what it means to loosen my grip and invite a shift:
to practice small gestures of defiance and reclamation.
to release old constraints
to listen and to understand
to endure unresolvedness
to use language as a compass, not a claim
to re-learn presence
in life and in paint
🖤
BRZA DOLL
studio senses
inside the Glasgow studio
the studio I rented in Glasgow was modest and chill: a desk with adjoining wall space in a shared studio, plus access to a common room, bathroom, and several other workstations. The space adjoined the studio owner’s embroidery business (https://mackandrose.com/ ) and a photography studio, and as a suburban girl, these kinds of shared creative spaces are perfect- the feeling is unpretentious and somewhat comforting.
the building itself felt industrial and focusing- with large windows, concrete pillars, and that endless northern daylight streaming in. Positioned just below a motorway ramp, inside the studio we were spared the furore of traffic, while still feeling connected to the city.
Katy warned me it might be quiet in the studio, as it was summer, and many artists were travelling- understandably! I still managed to meet some truly lovely people. I co-worked and sometimes chatted with other creatives passing through, web designers, painters, and glimpsed a leather-tooling guy at work.
I aimed to expand my artistic experiences, so when I got the chance I attended the Glasgow Zine Fest, a painting workshop with Orla Stevens (https://www.orlastevens.com/), and a canvas making/strecthing workshop with Andrea Iannuzzi (https://www.andreaiannuzzi.art/teaching) .
Each experience opening up short, but meaningful new conversations.
on my first day, after grabbing the keys and dropping off supplies, we ducked next door for coffee at a cart tucked inside the ground floor of an adjoining building. That’s where we met Goldie. Curious, generous, and completely connected, he promptly gave us a tour of the building, introduced us to anyone he thought we should meet, and pointed out where the “arty people” hung out. He later introduced me Dawn (https://www.dawnspenceart.co.uk/), whose surrealist, layered work I loved immediately.
Goldie even introduced the quiet building owner, who told us over tea, Cheez-Its, about trying to preserve the street’s buildings from being swallowed by developers. He’d bought much of the street, including the old school buildings, simply to keep these spaces available to locals, and to preserve the working history of Glasgow.
their kinds of care stayed with me.
making days
most studio days began with a mid-morning walk over to Anderston- I would have loved to take the bus more often, but summer timetables in Glasgow are… aspirational at best. Festivals, roadworks, parades- choosing the walk with a rain jacket just made more sense.
I’d grab a snack on the way (often a cheese, apple, and grape pack from Tesco), ready to caffeinate. With a big, ol’ coffee at the ready- I could get started.
at my desk, I set up a small evolving moodboard: postcards, found objects, magazine cut-outs, colour tests, palettes. Around me, surfaces were pinned to the wall or laid out on the floor as ideas developed.
my main working surface was a long roll of poster paper taped directly to the desk; my daily terrain. Each morning, I wrote a short intention on a small card and used it to anchor the day.
I liked beginning with stillness, coffee, and clarity- finding a prompt that was both structured and permissive. Containing enough to guide me, loose enough to let things get silly.
colour became a central focus: harmony, discord, dominance, restraint. I tested gestures, pushed compositions, and refined my sense of salience; what actually holds attention, versus what merely looks impressive.
materials & vibes
I brought a deliberately limited kit, knowing I wanted to shop locally. Cass Art was a lifesaver, alongside several family-owned supply stores. My most-used tools included:
a roll of paper & cylindrical carrier
a Round brush, size 6 (Daler-Rowney from their Graduate line)
magenta & orange inks
graphite (a surprisingly favourite)
soft pastels (a gorgeous selection I picked from Unison)
a Toyo toolbox
and, crucially, a soft lemon pillow for my butt
I didn’t always paint. I collaged consistently- in the studio and also unable to stop in my downtime. I made ransom-note poetry, experimented with beading supplies in sculptural ways, as well as simple jewellery. I leaned into a nostalgia that surprised me- because as a teenager, I made jewellery obsessively. Revisiting that felt right.
any supplies I didn’t keep were donated to a charity supporting new Glaswegians who had experienced trauma in their relocation, so nothing was wasted or dumped at the airport.
for the first few sessions, I listened to Wuthering Heights on audiobook- a book I’d avoided when it was assigned at uni, but devoured this time around. Every character is deeply unlikeable, which somehow made it compulsive. Other days, I worked to the sounds of the studio itself, the leather guy’s excellent playlists, or nostalgic Aussie grunge (Frenzal Rhomb made an appearance).
because the sun barely set, I often stayed until 9 or 10pm without realising how late it had become. Walking home under a light sky gave me a rare sense of ease and safety- an unexpected gift.
arriving and showing up
this month clarified something I keep relearning: how presence, effort, and risk actually register in the work. I arrived without fixed expectations beyond being open to sensory influence and sustained work. I was surprised by how dominant pale yellows became, and unsurprised by my return to magenta, bright orange, and chartreuse. Teal- a colour I rarely used- kept sneaking in, and has since become a more regular part of my palette.
I came face-to-face with the tension between authenticity and effort. I discovered (again & again) that trying to preserve a “perfect” splatter or brushstroke often reads as contrived. Or, in the words of the cool kids on The Simpson’s summer holidays- “the whole thing smacks of effort, man.”
effort isn’t the problem- but misplaced effort is.
unmaking became essential. Scraping back, overlapping, erasing. Letting things be ruined. I won’t pretend I don’t enjoy the adrenaline spike of this might destroy it forever. It’s the same rush I get before going on stage or speaking publicly- nerves, activation, joy. I’m hoping I’m not alone in that.
over the month, I produced:
7 days of studio notes on poster paper
3 poster-paper works
2 handmade (assembled and stretched) canvases
2 A3 workshop pieces
5 smaller sketches, 3 larger sketches
1 cardboard piece
1 poster page of extras
4 collages
6 ransom-note poems
a filled sketchbook
a filled concertina book
and a half-filled Khadi cotton book
alongside this, I gathered an archive: postcards, exhibition didactics, Scottish mythology, 19th-century art books, poetry, picture books, exhibition guides, magazines, airport ephemera, and a single haunting photograph of an 1800s Victorian girl- found at the Barras Markets.
all of this fed back into the work- and later, into the mini moodboards I created to capture motifs, palettes, and emotional through-lines from the field.
living the dream
this was an amazing experience in travel and testing my limits, but also in recognising my capacity to orchestrate and follow-through on such a huge project.
betting on myself and having that pay-off in new connections, technical upskilling, and an ongoing body of work and inspiration was the dream outcome.
🖤
monthly creative prompt
old soul, new trick
there are moments when learning something new doesn’t feel like progress, but recognition. as if an old part of you has quietly been waiting for clearer language, structure, or permission.
this month’s prompt, old soul, new trick, is about those encounters: where history, material, and environment teach you something after you thought your foundations were already set.
old soul:
#1. torsion
hiking in the Cairngorms (Scottish forests), I learned about & witnessed torsion- the way trees twist around themselves when they experience constant (and, I daresay, unyielding) wind pressure.
amazingly- they don’t collapse. they don’t break.
they rotate, tighten, spiral- forming a kind of protective posture (like a self-hug).
these forests were farmed heavily during the world wars. What exists now is regrowth — still young, still adapting, still carrying memory in its grain.
torsion prompts:
create literal torsion with application methods- twist, rotate, layer, bind, scrape back, reapply- think spiral, torque, tension, counter-movement
create metaphoric torsion by allowing form to respond to pressure instead of resisting it (perhaps, gravity?)
imitate torsion by creating something that shows adaptation rather than damage
#2. picts
I encountered Pictish culture in-person for the first time- a culture whose name derives from the word picture. How could I not be entranced? Here is a culture that is not into explanation or self-justification, preferring instead to create presence through mark, signal & repetition.
pict-related prompts:
create with marks that feel older than formal language
signal calmness or warning using slower/faster gestural pace
repeat a symbol until meaning emerges through insistence
#3. material consequence
Mella Shaw’s exhibition Sounding Line commented on the damaging effects of marine sonar overuse (by military & big oil) on whale species that rely on echolocation to navigate. With permission from NatureScot, Shaw was granted permission to incorporate salvaged whale bone ash (from the remains of a sonar-affected and subsequently-beached bottlenose whale).
The work invited viewers to interact with the artwork:
“Do touch the ropes gently to feel the vibration and reflect on the lived experience of the whales.”
This use of organic material, not intentionally sourced, but intentionally used, pushed me to reconsider material as ethics over aesthetics.
These are not “found objects” for a sense of novelty, but materials that hold truth & responsibility.
material consequence prompts:
select a material with a history you can trace and let its past shape the form, not just the concept
ask yourself: what does this material already know? what systems does it implicate me in?
new trick:
optional constraint/s
introduce one unfamiliar method, tool, or material
let it sit beside your existing instincts.
no mastery required, curiosity is enough.
these prompts aren’t about reinvention, but a way to practise staying porous. letting new knowledge bend you slightly, the way wind shapes a tree that intends to always stand.
🖤
current collection
mini moods - sole/soul traveller
During my self-directed artist residency in Scotland (2025), I created a series of mini moods- small visual collections designed to curate the colours, textures, atmospheres, and emotional moments of each day.
Scotland Mini Moodboard Packs by BRZA DOLL provide a new setting- through the artists’ eyes- for your own imaginative jaunt and creative frolicking fun!
Check out the 4 mini mood options, or take advantage of a cute lil discount for all 4!
Scotland Mini Moodboard Packs:
- hikin’ & lichen (#1 mull)
- mr bright buoy (#2 tobermory)
- basalt hexagons (#3 staffa)
- cloud formations (#4 hebrides)
Each pack combines my original photography, a hand-selected colour palette, and reflective notes from my travel journal. They’re designed as gentle companions for your own creative process; whether you’re sketching, journalling, collaging, writing, or simply gathering sparks for a future project
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immediate download
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digital and printable, high quality
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images, prompts reflections & poetry
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inspired; "a wee jaunt" portfolio
🖤 immediate download 🖤 digital and printable, high quality 🖤 images, prompts reflections & poetry 🖤 inspired; "a wee jaunt" portfolio
Each mini mood pack contains:
✔ One curated moodboard
✔ Accessible & printable as PDF + PNG files (A4/A5)
✔ Residency reflections from the field- from the in-progress “a wee jaunt” collection
✔ Poetic cues + creative prompts
✔ A hand-selected 9-colour palette with hex codes
✔ 5+ high-resolution hero images
✔ Personal-use licence
These packs provide a new setting- through the artists’ eyes- for your own imaginative jaunt and creative frolicking fun!
🖤
monthly GLAM curation
art & soul
I both graced myself with- and placed myself amongst- as many artworks as I could during my trip.
it has been excruciating to narrow the selection down to a mere overview of some standout works, but I wanted to reveal even a fraction of the scope, different media & expansive emotions captured and evoked.
i hope some of my experiential joy, and time spent with these works transfers to you!
🖤
BRZA DOLL
