Stand Still or Keep Running?

This week is a good one,

I’ve spent it closing up shop and planning my 2025.

It’s been a fast-moving year for me,

Next year I want to go faster…

So I spent the last week figuring it out

hope you enjoy what I’ve learned…

Still

I used to think if I kept busy enough, I could outrun the unsettling hum inside me. I’d pack my days with tasks: answering emails, tackling calls, scrolling social media, anything to stay in motion.

Exactly a year ago I did something unfamiliar.

I turned everything off.

No laptop, no phone. I gave myself permission to sit in the quiet, observing the slow drip of my thoughts. It was almost disturbing at first, as if I were hearing them for the very first time.

That pause—it brought my focus onto the things that, left unexamined, had begun to fester. With no more noise to distract me, I saw the small cracks in my life: relationships I’d neglected, skills I wanted to develop but never did, lingering regrets I’d swept under a mental rug.

This stillness was like shining a flashlight into a dark room, and it revealed how certain aspects of my life genuinely weren’t at the standard I wanted.

Paradox

There’s a paradox in slowing down. You’d think it would feel restful, but it can, at first, feel like stepping into a wave of discomfort.

This is because stillness frees up the mental bandwidth to see where we’re not okay.

That’s when I recognized: All meaningful growth starts in the space where something hurts. If I hadn’t stopped and noticed those points of friction, I’d have carried on ignoring them indefinitely.

From that quiet vantage, I asked myself: Where am I willing to suffer? The question sounded harsh, but it held a certain truth.

Am I prepared to have the awkward conversations needed to repair important relationships? Am I willing to slog through the frustrations of building new skills from scratch? 

Slowing down forced me to confront this. Because there is no progress without wrestling a bit with ourselves, without admitting that something isn’t quite right yet.

It’s human nature to avoid hardship, but ironically, it’s in those painful, tangled spots that our best opportunities hide.

Brains

Team Science even gives this a name—when we’re forced to handle something that’s just beyond our comfort zone, our brains adapt by forming new pathways, a process called neuroplasticity. But we only trigger that if we lean into the discomfort.

We can’t do it by skimming along the surface, filling every minute with noise so we never have to face what’s really going on.

Over those days of intentional stillness, I realized that rushing through life had provided the perfect camouflage for my deeper struggles.

It’s easier to pretend everything’s fine when you’re constantly in motion. But once you stop, you can’t unsee the truth. And that’s ultimately a gift. Because the moment you acknowledge, This situation is not good enough for me, you become capable of improving it.

Suffering

So when we talk about suffering as a choice, this is what we mean. You can decide where you want to suffer, how you want to suffer, and why you choose it.

Maybe it’s devoting long hours to learn a language you’ve always craved to speak.

Maybe it’s returning to the gym even though it leaves your muscles sore for days.

Maybe it’s confronting the heartbreaks you never allowed yourself to process.

Whichever path you pick, it will require some measure of discomfort. But if it’s chosen, if it’s in line with a deeper desire for growth, it won’t just feel like punishment—it’ll feel like a purposeful investment.

In the end, slowing down doesn’t fix everything overnight. But it clears the debris of distraction, so you can finally see what’s beneath.

It shows you the exact points in your life that need attention and healing. And then, it hands you the question: “Is this something I’m willing to suffer for?” 

If the answer is yes, if the goal is worth the aches, you’ve found a meaningful path.

If the answer is no, at least you’re now aware enough not to keep wasting time wishing for something you won’t chase.

Choice

It’s tempting to keep moving, stay busy, and never face what hurts. But stillness can be an awakening, a moment of revelation that changes everything.

By tuning out the noise, you tune in to a deeper frequency—where dissatisfaction doesn’t have to be your enemy, but can instead be the spark that sets real growth in motion.

And once you see the cracks, you have a choice: either fill them in, or let them widen. The path to improvement lies in acknowledging, This is not yet where I want it to be—and I’m willing to endure the necessary challenges to get it there.

In that sense, embracing stillness and choosing where you want to suffer form two sides of the same coin: one reveals what needs work, the other supplies the resolve to do it.

If you rush through life, you’ll probably avoid noticing your real points of friction. But by slowing down, even if it’s momentarily uncomfortable, you step onto a more deliberate, self-constructed road—one where each difficult step has a purpose, and each moment of uncertainty fosters growth.

What I’m Learning

Over the last nine months, I’ve been exploring how to contribute to the London art scene. One observation stands out: if you look at the past 400 years, every period of major difficulty tends to be followed by a creative renaissance.

Right now, things feel tough in London, the UK, and around the world—people are anxious, and it seems like when pressure builds, that’s exactly when daring, original ideas find their value.

If artists have a singular purpose, it’s to remind everyone that they can do whatever they want—that your idea is good enough to bring to life. Personally, I paint pictures that often appear to have no real “value,” yet somehow it works out.

Over the last few months, while rebuilding my studio practice in London, I’ve been figuring out where I fit. A few certainties have emerged:

1. Writing and talking to the people that matter (you) keeps me going.

2. This is my breakthrough year—no question.

3. I can’t do this alone.

Every time I send out a newsletter, there’s a small worry in the back of my mind that I’m becoming just another self-absorbed artist.

A little voice says, Don’t waste their time—offer value. But then I remember: this really is a creative renaissance, and the world needs artists more than ever.

I’m right at the brink of a big leap, and I also realize there’s a reason we’ve come together—that I’ve got a job to do, and every person who joins this community expects me to step up and make something happen.

Lately, I’ve been thinking that whenever I have an idea, there must be plenty of other people having the same thought.

What if there are a hundred other artists who also believe the world needs more art, and if we all come together, maybe we can create something truly remarkable?

Maybe we can actually make the changes we all believe in…

What I’m Building

I’ve always been fascinated by how modern media shapes culture and identity.

I still remember the day someone thrust a fantasy book into my hands. Suddenly, the vivid ideas from that story engulfed my thoughts, leaving “real life” feeling cold and colorless by comparison.

Everything I consumed quickly became part of my inner world. Then I discovered film and the internet, which opened even more dimensions of possibility—more realities to weave into my own.

As a child on the edges of every social group, I never quite knew where truth resided. But getting glimpses of how the world could look, thanks to modern media, gave me a strange sense of stability.

Equally, I noticed how people who absorbed the same media started to share habits. Football fans watched Match of the Day. Music lovers swapped albums. Skaters played skate videos on repeat. The culture followed the media.

So, what do I want to change?

I have one unwavering aim: freedom.

I see art as the ultimate expression of that freedom.

A one-way love with enough warmth to shine on everyone around it.

Anyone can create it

Anyone can experience it

It’s yours to interpret however you like

Hate it

Love it

But it remains what it is

It is freedom

And in its honesty and purity

It helps us touch the most vital human emotion:

Love

Over the next few months, I’ll be building a team to bring together 100 emerging artists and creators—people who inspire me, people I believe are leading the way for this creative renaissance.

The torchbearers, the rebels, the pirates, the princesses, the ones who’ve walked through fire and flames to survive as artists and are finally getting their chance to stand on stage and define culture.

I want to make sure you have the best seat in the house.

Stay tuned.

I think 2025 is going to be an incredible year for both of us.

Poet’s Corner

We’ll be expanding our collaborative work over the next few months, while continuing to showcase writers from Oxford’s Undergraduate Creative Writing program here. I hope you enjoy what we’re making.

This week’s prompt is still

Still

Is a fire that has died. Still
Is the fuel not burning. Still

Is the water without tide.Still
Is the current not turning. Still

Is the stagnant air. Still
Is the wind not blowing. Still

Are the fragments of earth. Still
Are those fragments when life isn’t growing. Still

Are those lives still broken by love.
Still Are those hearts that stop beating. Still

-Thomas

What I’m Releasing

We’re sold out again.

We’ve now got a LOT of collectors in this community, and I’ve been opening up the studio more and more.

I know everyone here came for a specific reason, so I will go back to the waitlist and see If I can make everything that people want throughout 2025.

The website will be available with past orders for you to see what we’ve made and retail prices.

sign up here

Final words

Over the last four years, I’ve worked my hardest to build a practice where I could rely solely on myself—no talking, no outside help—because I love solitude and freedom.

But writing this newsletter and seeing your replies has changed how I define what it means to be an artist. It’s no longer just a solitary act; it’s a conversation, a shared space of discovery.

Cheers to 2024 and meeting all of you,

Thank you for being part of this.

Can’t wait to see what 2025 has in store for us both,

I love you loads,

R