Nature Connected - Reflections on the exhibition

Today I packed away my first exhibition. It had been on for a month at a special place Hengistbury Head, the upper gallery of the local nature reserve, nestled in the eaves of a thatched building. And nesting within the roof above it, two barn owls.

We shared the space together. The live stream camera meant they were part of the exhibition, and over the month I became familiar with their micro habits. The sleepy days, the stillness, the sudden alertness. Yesterday, during a lull in visitors, I heard soft hooo calls drifting down. Today, as I arrived to close the exhibition, their first egg had hatched.

There felt a cyclical, meaningful moment in that. As one experience was closing, a new one was being incubated for birth.

As coaches, we invest in ourselves so we are always showing up with clients informed and with richness to offer. Training, reading, workshops, all are wonderful. But doing a first exhibition was full of kinetic learning, and I am so grateful I courageously stepped into it.

It is vulnerable to show work. It is how you see the world.

And for an ambivert, the preparation period felt like being in an introvert creative bubble, and I loved it. Curating the flow and sections like layered ecosystems felt entirely fitting for an exhibition all about nature connection.

The day I put it out in the world was full of joy and daunting in equal measure. There it all was, laid out. And I waited, curious, hoping it would land as I had intended.

I had been discerning in the making of it. I wanted it to feel like an experience. To let people pause, slow down, notice in their own way.

The mindful photography was a walk in nature from the spacious to the intimate.

The ceramics were a sensory experience with practical uses. How earth, when meeting the elemental force of fire, can become something both beautiful and a tool to give back in reciprocity with nature.

And of course, the Glimmer Series artworks, a co-creative experience with nature itself.

Growing from seed in spring 2025, noticing blooms and how they carried light, mindfully photographing. Then becoming companions in the darker winter months, sitting with colour, form, shape, tone and light, evolving artworks that, when paired, traced the arc of light across a halcyon day.

Early light. Morning awakening. Midday. The afternoon lull. Light settling down.

Visitors responded differently, and all of it was meaningful.

Some stayed to share stories the images brought to mind. Some were curious how the creative act had unfolded. Some arrived declaring they were not creative, but when we explored what creativity actually is, not only production but taking in the world, or creating in different ways, they seemed to glow and walk away with a spring in their step.

Some visitors loved pieces enough to take home. I imagine them growing in their homes now, finding new life.

Many fed back that the exhibition was emotionally resonant, thought-provoking and joyful. Some loved that I had made the windows an invitational part of the experience, with reflection questions to sit with. Always a coach, as well as a creative practitioner.

Some younger visitors shared their own creativity freely, full of play, beautifully unconstrained by social constructs. And many, young and older, focused with wonder and awe on the owls I was privileged to share the space with.

The common thread across all of it was curiosity, connection and shared stories, met with compassion, possibility and openness.

We moved together from “I am not creative” to something much more expansive. Because creativity is not about being one type of plant. All types of plants are possible.

And today, as I carried the last pieces out into the spring air, I thought of the owls.

One exhibition closing. One life beginning.

The barn owls didn’t know they were part of it, but they were. As nature always is. Present, unhurried, offering glimmers to those who slow down enough to notice.

As I travelled the arc of this experience, I find myself ending it with a sense of many glimmers. Including appreciation for those who have fostered and shared my love of Nature since I was young. Gratitude for those who believed in the exhibition from the beginning, those who showed up, and those who engaged along the way.

There is a sense of continuation in that. Of taking what has been learned and letting it evolve. Like natures seasons and rhythms.

For now, that evolution moves into workshops and gatherings, locally and online, centred around community, creativity and nature connection, alongside 1:1 coaching.