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References & further reading:

1. https://www.arts.gov.au/news/new-data-released-value-australias-cultural-and-creative-sector

2. https://ifacca.org/news/2025/04/02/arts-and-cultural-industries-grew-twice-rate-us-ec/

3. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2025-04-09/creatives-sign-statement-against-generative-ai-training/105149824

4. https://www.forbes.com/sites/annatong/2026/04/16/ais-new-training-data-your-old-work-slacks-and-emails/

5. https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/11/24/are-tech-companies-using-your-private-data-to-train-ai-models

6. https://www.collaw.edu.au/community/news/australia-rejects-ai-copyright-exemption-backs-creative-industries/

7. https://www.afr.com/politics/federal/tech-giants-could-be-forced-to-reveal-ai-data-20250813-p5mmpu

8. https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2026/jan/26/ai-uk-jobs-us-japan-germany-australia

9. https://www.reuters.com/legal/government/us-supreme-court-declines-hear-dispute-over-copyrights-ai-generated-material-2026-03-02/

10. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/feb/13/software-student-cheated-combat-ai

Will duty-free novelties help me push my creative boundaries? Japan hosts a treasure trove of art supplies that are unfamiliar to the eyes of many Western artists, like me. I am constantly searching for new art resources that could transform the way I express myself visually and so far Japan has exceeded my expectations. I believe that if a change is as good as a holiday, then perhaps an unfamiliar tool will create a different mark.

Amongst the towering department stores and skyscrapers of Tokyo’s Shinjuku lies Sekaido, a must-hit art store. Much like its surroundings, its six floors can be daunting for many first-time visitors, so my advice is to do your research online before you go. I never visit Sekaido without a list and deep pockets. I find that the store shrinks considerably when I focus on products that are made-in-Japan to keep my consumerism in check. The store has a utilitarian white-down-light aesthetic that is out of keeping with its glossy neighbours. Despite this, the building is always packed with an assortment of creatives, from eye-catching creatures to plain sensible ones. While Sekaido is an excellent place for items unique to the West, there are other places that offer more bespoke experiences.

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On our Osaka metro carriage, a sense of reluctance seeped from the lolling heads of our fellow passengers - despite the obvious effort they made to pour their bodies into smart business attire. In contrast I, in my crumpled linen, was brimming with excitement for a new creative adventure as we journeyed from Hanazonochō station toward Namba. My partner accompanied me out of a sense of duty after having exposed me to Den-Den Town - a swirl of electronics, anime, indoor games, plastic figurines and a plethora of fandom. Den-Den Town appeared to be a neighbourhood that largely catered to a male audience.

Morning peak hour human traffic was starting to decline when we arrived at Namba station. We exited into a beige subterranean network of luminous tunnels. Our immediate goal was locate the stairs to the surface as we weren’t accustomed to navigating labyrinths without our phones’ GPS*, which was rendered useless underground. After we found a set of stairs leading to natural light we were greeted by skyscrapers, mega-department stores and shopping complexes. We breathed with relief, as the GPS sprang to life. Once again enabling us to orient our way through a vibrant and curious mixture of new and old architecture. It was a short walk to our destination along mainly grey pavements and roads to Kamigata Ukiyo-e Museum.

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On a hot summer’s day, we returned to Nippori’s Fabric Town in Tokyo, Japan. Located a short walk from our modest guesthouse, not much had changed except I spotted a cherished brand of scissors, Shozaburo, encased in a glass museum-style cabinet. This display was curious given the largely utilitarian aesthetic of the neighbourhood. That said, on my first visit I had mused why blades forged using similar techniques to samurai swords weren’t displayed in a comparable visually appealing style: https://gimara.substack.com/p/forged-not-stamped. Since that trip, it appeared that someone else in the store felt the same way.

Given Tokyo is an ocean away from my island home in Queensland, I decided to treat myself to a pair of thread cutters. There were two possibilities. The only difference between these carbon black steel tools was the length of the blades. I opted for pair with shorter blades. Why shorter blades, you may wonder?

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If you look up ‘Tsundoku’ you’ll find it’s a Japanese word that can be loosely translated to ‘collecting books to be read later’. This word could not be more apt, given that this avid art bibliophile was visiting Japan from Australia.

I tell my dearest, “First check the bookstores, the art galleries, the libraries and beauty spots, if you ever need to find me.” I’ve been known to take many a detour because of a cardboard sign with a crudely drawn arrow - in the pursuit of culture, an aesthetic experience, or books. This trip was no exception.

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I found myself walking against the grain, through crowds of workers wrapped in muted hues shuffling towards a nondescript grey train station. The chroma of the crowd began to change and shrink. Men faded away.

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I have lain quiet for months. Everyone was ordered to stay away from me. The double doors creak open and lights flicker on. She’s back. She enters lugging a heavy folio. She strategically paces the space; opening windows, arranging giant ivory sheets, tapping on a keyboard and pushing various buttons. The projector beams into life. Click here to read the rest of this story. This article was commissioned by The Social Art Library and Axis Arts

They are the quiet guardians of free indoor spaces, a rare commodity in a world where shelter comes at a price. For centuries, the written word has required protection from the elements; safe havens for books and their readers. What happens to those temperature-controlled sanctuaries when their shelves empty?

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‘Isn’t it fascinating how the act of covering human flesh with cloth can change our perceptions of the wearer? The permutations are almost endless’

'Wrapped' is part of an ongoing project. I sculpt with a variety of malleable materials, including textiles and paper. Check this page regularly for updates.

In 1547 Earl Henry Howard of Surrey, a poet and politician, was beheaded on the orders of King Henry VIII; one of the feeble reasons given in evidence was the colour of his attire [1]. The Earl had been seen wearing Tyrian purple, which was grounds for treason. This was not the first occasion where someone died over the colour purple. Since Ancient Roman times, the unauthorised use of this particular type of purple could result in capital punishment [2]. Periodically sumptuary laws would appear forbidding anyone but their rulers from wearing purple, even if they were obscenely rich [3]. Would you be willing to lose your head over a purple shirt? It is then ironic that purple would become first affordable synthetic colour to be mass produced. These are the stories of why so many lost their lives to purple and the eighteen year-old chemist who would forever change our relationship with it.

I was curled up watching the 2021 US Presidential Inauguration, mulling over ‘which scientific breakthrough would I like to have been present at’, when I saw purple. Kamala Harris, Michelle Obama and Hillary Clinton wore different shades. Purple usurped the red, white and blue. Broadcasters purported that purple was worn as a symbolic statement of bipartisanship, but it could have been emblematic of the suffragette movement. Or did these women choose to wear purple for the oldest of reasons, as a symbol of power during this transfer of control?

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I was excited to escape our gilded cage of brick and glass: the winter had been too long, the “stay-at-home orders” had been too long and our home had begun to grow too small. Out came the sunglasses, sunscreen, notebooks, pens, cushions, blankets and a hot water bottle; well it’s still England after all. As I marked a crisp white page with ink, the warm sun filtered gently through the cream cloth of the umbrella onto my pale caramel hands.

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