Meditation Symphonies: Creating Stillness Through Detail

The Story Behind My Meditation Symphonies

Some artworks come together in a sudden burst of inspiration—but others grow slowly, weaving through years of exploration, experimentation, and evolution. My Meditation Symphonies belong to the latter.

Before I ever touched digital tools, I began my art journey as an acrylic painter and collagist. I spent hours drawing flowers and intricate patterns using Prismacolour pencils and watercolours, piecing together compositions from scraps of wallpaper, vintage postcards, and bundles I’d collected from Etsy. It was all very hands-on, layered, and tactile—a process that grounded me and gave me a deep appreciation for detail and texture.

Eventually, I transitioned to working digitally, and this opened up a new world. I could collect more textures, experiment with pattern-building in ways that were quicker and more flexible, and create compositions that still honoured the collage-like process I loved—but with a new rhythm and energy.

A pivotal moment in the development of this series came during a visit to the Scottish National Museum in Edinburgh. There, I saw a Tibetan Thangka painting in person. I’d come across them before at the V&A in London, but seeing one up close and in detail was a turning point. Thangkas are devotional artworks designed to aid meditation and prayer, rich with intricate imagery and ornate symbolism. They struck a chord with me—partly because their layered, detailed nature reminded me of my own practice, and partly because I’ve always found making patterns and collages deeply meditative.

I wanted to create something that held that same energy. Something that felt like a pause—a quiet invitation to stop, take a moment, and get lost in the details.

Around that same time, I’d also begun dabbling in pottery—a hobby that has quickly become a big part of my creative process. I decided to use some of my handmade vases (many of them a bit wobbly and wonky in the best way) as the centrepieces in my own versions of Thangkas. They became the grounding point around which everything else flowed—my patterns, collected objects, and symbolic figures.

That was the beginning of The Meditation Symphonies. I chose the name because each piece feels like a composition—a layering of visual motifs that come together like a piece of music. It’s a series I’ve deliberately left open-ended, so I can return to it again and again, adding new pieces as my practice grows and changes.

At their heart, these works are about focus, stillness, and presence—qualities I try to nurture in both my art and my life. I hope when you look at them, you find a quiet moment of reflection, or simply the joy of discovering something new in the details.