1. The Artist - Lucy Steeds

I. LOVED. THIS. BOOK.

Oh my GOD, I loved this book. It’s about a journalist who visits a world-renowned, reclusive painter. I won’t say much more because it’s too beautiful to spoil!

This book feels like stepping barefoot through white cotton curtains into thick, scorching Italian heat—running through tall grass and diving into a river. I cannot wait to re-read this one in a few years. It’s so gentle but gripping; the way it references real art history and tucks its fiction neatly into reality means the descriptions of the artwork make so much sense in my head and feel so tactile.

It really feels like it was written for me: art history, the role of women in art, romance, imagery of a baking European countryside. I fell asleep with a smile on my face every night while reading this. This is my recommendation from the list—you have to read this one.

2. The Mountain is You by Brianna Weist

   got me through my driving test

Immediately exposing myself with The Mountain Is You. This is great for anyone going through a period of self-doubt or some kind of fundamental transition in life. Being a full-time artist comes with the feeling that your progress is in the hands of external, uncontrollable moving parts, which can build up to a sense of powerlessness—and this gave me the little kick up the arse I needed.

I would recommend listening to the audiobook for this one. I now listen to some of my favourite chapters on repeat on my bike (Chapter 6 is my go-to). If you need an introduction to self-help, this might be a good place to start.

I have to say, this genre requires a serious commitment to an open mind to get anything out of it. I’ve read a lot of self-help now, and you get to a point where you have to decide what resonates and leave the rest. That means having a little patience with some of the more woo-woo pages (and that’s saying a lot coming from the queen of woo-woo over here).

The tone is stern and direct, and if you didn’t like Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert, I think you’ll like this.

Big Magic is my litmus test for how much woo-woo someone can take.

3. I’m a fan - Sheena Patel

an anatomy of the “situationship”

Written in diary from, this short read documents a situationship from the 7th circle of hell. It shows the worst side of modern dating, how rare human connection can feel and the depsperate measures some of us will go to keep it alive. Where it really got me though is how well it demonstrates the weight on women to hold the emotional space open for supressed men and how that slowly unravels our grip on reality. I wrote this down when I read it:

“Next to me, he can be the paternal force, the one who holds reason, which forces me to hold the intuition and feeling”

I don’t know why (yes, I do know why) that really stopped me in my tracks and made me reflect on the male–female relationships in my life—and how exhausting it is to be the only intuitive person in a connection rooted in emotion. I’ve always just assumed thats how it goes, and that’s the role of women in hetro relationships but this book made me think, fuck that.

4. Departure(s) - Julian Barnes

the bloody passage of time and that

For those who don’t know, Julian Barnes is a literary legend, and this is his self-described “final book” before he dies (yeah, intense). I love, love, LOVE reading about what it feels like to look back on life once you’ve already lived most of it. It always gives me the perspective I need to chill the HELL out and make choices that feel bold and true to me.

It’s a reminder that we’re all mortal, and that love isn’t straightforward. If he wanted to, he might not—because something else could be in his way. But if you want to, you should. Get rejected. Make some mistakes in the name of finding the right thing. Then realise the right thing is the wrong thing, forgive yourself, and move on. Don’t settle. Be grateful. Hold people close. All that crap.

Good read, though.

Let me know if you read any of them and what you thought! I’m reading the new hunger games right now and I feel like a teenager again.

lots of love

Ash

Last year, I read some great stuff. I ended up recommending the same things over and over and so it figured I’d share them here. I narrowed it down to one of each category, to help set you up with some options. Hope this helps you get stuck into something good this year.

1. The Over Story - Richard Powers (Fiction)

I picked this up in a hostel in Thailand and read it slowly over 3 months while we were travelling. I think it’s best to go into this book blind, but it’s about trees, humans, living, dying, being! It’s poetic fiction but not overly metaphorical, it lives in the perfect spot between thought and reality. It’s a genuine must-read, and would be great as your soundtrack to the changing of the seasons. The trees are waking up from their sleep soon!

2. All About Love - Bell Hooks (Psychology/Creative Fiction)

I read this book on a beach in Jamaica while visiting my Dad. One evening I set out to finish it, the sun was setting, I turned the last page, got up, walked home and put the book directly into my Mum’s hands. I never really recommend books to her because she’s the most well-read person I know, and I’m always scared of wasting her time, but she read it and loved it (a very good indication of a great book). Bell Hooks is a right of passage when reading about feminism, race, class and love. I can’t recommend this book enough (I would say this is the most important one on this list)

(This book is great for anyone who comes from a household of abuse, or with a history of complex relationship with loved ones.)

3. What the Living Do - Marie Howe (Poetry)

I picked this up a while ago in Brick Lane on a thrifting day and finished it this past year. God, this is good stuff. Really gut wrenchingly real, a proper slice of life. There were many moments reading this where I stopped, put it away, and with shock and horror, sat down to try and figure out how I was going to convey a sense of being alive as convincingly as Marie Howe has. Incredible, I’d even recommend this to someone unfamiliar with poetry to convince them of how great it can be.

4. The Defining Decade - Meg Jay (Self Help)

A book on the twenties panic! I’ve recommended this one most widely. It’s a short, easy and important read. It felt like taking a class on where you can and can’t take control in the timing of your life, how to stop life feeling like it’s slipping by without you’re control. It helps teach where it is good to go with the flow, and where you will regret not making a plan. This book really relieved a lot of my panic and shifted my perspective on time.

Enjoy!

A

As 2024 was coming to an end, I went on a nostalgia trip, looking back at my digital footprint.

I’ve been putting myself out into the www. for almost 10 years now. My old YouTube channel is a treasure trove of vlogs from my teenage years, time capsules of what I was thinking and creating. Evidence of my inflated self-importance, endless creativity and self-expression before the brutal lashings that come with oversharing as an adult.

At the start, it’s a hard watch. Watching myself struggle to lean into my gifts, coupled with a complete lack of shame and unabashed authenticity, posted weekly for all the world to watch. As the videos go on, my confidence grows. I start dressing in (honestly) really strange outfits. I am making art at a ferocious and fearless pace. I start a podcast, a monthly book review club, 6-foot paintings, portrait photoshoots, zines, enamel pins, stickers and original songs. My circle of friends? Budding photographers, surfers, spontaneous and generous kids. I ride my bike down to the beach at the end of every day and listen to music, yearning for a boy who has no interest in me or reading a book. Each day I cycle home with a growing sense of release from the grip of my angst .

I get happier as I get closer to 20. The art I made, and the way I spent my days brought me closer to source, to myself, to life, and to peace. Then I turned 19 and started university in England.

Between 20 and 23 I slowly lost the spark again, I stopped uploading YouTube videos because the workload was too much and I was trying to balance paid freelance work to help support myself. I gave in to the pressure to be more guarded, conservative, and mysterious with my expression. The first night out I ever went on at uni, I wore dungarees and a messy bun to the club (?). I’ve always looked back at that moment and felt a shiver up my spine, but I remember now how little I cared about trends and new clothes. I had just arrived from South Africa and all my clothes were for comfort and worn in my studio where I painted all day and night, or for the beach with my friends. I simply did not care about anything but making cool shit, and I am so disappointed in myself that I held that mentality and let it slip.

I let it be replaced by body-con dresses, weight-loss programs, skin-care routines, salary expectations, and the perfect photo dump (the list goes on.) I was still making things for sure, but something happened where the barrel of my lens was slowly but surely turning inwards. I started to care a whole lot more about building a life with great optics than I did about my community and making cool shit.

That sunk in this last year.

“Had I not created my whole world, I would certainly have died in other people’s” - Anais Nin

I was focusing so much on myself that I stopped reading, stopped long reflective walks, stopped journalling, stopped drawing just to move my hand, stopped making music just to pass the time, everything had to feel “productive”, be part of a product or a project, help me get signed or add to my CV or I wouldn’t “waste my time” doing it, I’d waste my time scrolling instead.

This year my focus was figuring out why I felt so rotten inside. I’ve started reading and journaling again, allowing myself to read fun books (dragons and Faeries) instead of always forcing self-development down my throat. It was hard at first to get through a book (embarrassing) because my attention span had been shot. It’s easy again but it took a year. I’ve gotten really into transcendental meditation, I’d look into that! Highly recommend. I’ve been on a search for God and more of a defined and ritualistic spirituality, I’ve been to church for the first time, reading religious texts and Guru teachings. All of it coming together to help me turn that lens back outward to the world again and to be a participant in the flow of it all. Essentially removing the pressure I’ve put on myself to become something, do something legendary that everyone will remember. I’m starting to feel that the flow of life might make something of me, if I just focus on listening and following instead of stressing and forcing.

I want to have a functional and warm family, and financial stability so I can spend my days making music and visual art. I have big goals too, I want to play big shows and make great albums and I have faith that big things are in my path, but more importantly, I want to enjoy Thursdays, winter, reading, writing, walking and the-every-day as much as I will enjoy big shows, big albums and a big warm family.

I’m still struggling with twenty-something panic; maybe I’m not good enough, my focus isn’t strong enough, I haven’t saved enough money, seen the world, had enough sex, been to enough parties, earned enough career capital, found the right place to live… (do I need to go on?) but I’m working on refusing the feeling that my life lacks anything between now and the time that those achievements come (or do not come) my way.

(Alexa, play the climb by Miley Cyrus)

and fucccck, I never feel like i’m doing new years right. It’s so annoying. Someone invite me to some legendary roof top party so I can feel like I’m doing something right.

Happy New Year!

(be good to yourself)

<3

Ash

Over this week I’ve been thinking a lot about the word “special”. From a commercial standpoint, the music industry (and ‘the arts’ at large) are all about it, which as you can imagine, creates deep stress.

I often relate problems and people to trees and forests when I’m struggling to wrap my head around something: Imagine we walk into a forest and we snatch a tree, now imagine that tree in a white void, all alone and ready for analysis. Is that tree special? It’s pretty for sure! Magnificent, definitely! But Special? Special in comparison to what? It is undeniably beautiful and complex, but special?

That tree in the white void is the only thing around? Okay… so what we’re asking is; is the tree special in comparison to the other trees in the forest. Ah ha! (yeah duh but had to break it down for my own sanity)

Let’s cut to the chase, the forest is special. Everything is special, nothing is special. Plucking yourself out of the forest to craft a sense of singular identity, feels a little like hearing a single word in a foreign language and expecting to understand all the unique ways someone would express themselves in their mother tongue. It’s like trying to understand an album by listening to the single, or judging you’re character from one mistake. “Special” is a an unnecessary microscope.

Not to mention, it is inherently judgemental of me to spend any brain power thinking on my ‘special-ness’. To fuss over how I wish I was special is judgment cast on everyone I am trying to separate myself from. I try to isolate myself from the pack to underline my value, and in doing so, I put myself above others.

I thiiink what I’m trying to say boils down to that “I’m not like other girls” meme and we all know how we feel about that.

I’m starting to imagine there is a birds-eye view that I am not privy to and from that angle, all my creations make sense and fit deliciously into the larger story of human creativity. I’m starting to think that most of us don’t get the privilege of seeing that bigger picture, seeing the forest for the trees. Part of that is surrendering to the idea that I will stop trying to see it from up there and find peace with it here.

Maybe that’s me believing in God.

x

! ashlie

(p.s. I have finished the EP. it’s really good. I’m really tired. but excited. resting up and saving up over the next month and then it’s action stations, get ready)

I’ve recently had somewhat of a spiritual awakening, I’m not prepared to write about it yet because I’m still in the thick of it but next year, I’m planning on putting a song out where I capture the feeling of living a faithless life called “Dead or Alive”. A life that centred only around pleasure and joy which seems a worthy pursuit! Right?…

After university, I gained some leverage on my CV (yuck) and got a remote job so I could be more comfortable at home, and work on music more. After a while, I rarely left the house. Everything seemed too much of an imposition on my comfort and as a result, I became numb. My life was too easy. I wasn’t crying anymore but I also wasn’t feeling anything.

This was bizarre because I’ve always been a cry-er. Everyone has seen me cry. I probably clock in about twice a week for an ugly cry. To control this, I stopped listening to sad music completely because it immediately brought me to tears. I told myself I had enough to cry over and life’s hard without sad songs to stir me up. I thought, “I don’t need to ‘get it out’” because it’s always spilling out at the least opportune times anyway! I would carry wide Hollywood sunglasses to wear while I ugly-cried on the bus (a favourite pastime of mine), or when I was out with friends and I wanted to talk about anything remotely emotional. The tears come with a shockingly aggressive nature when I least expect it. (So not fun, hate it, makes me feel totally out of control)

The internet self-help rhetoric tells us to follow the “joy” but true satisfaction is more elusive than “following what feels good”. If you’re working on following the joy in every moment, suffering comes along and makes you feel left out of the punchline. Here are some things that feel like happiness to me, but are contingent on suffering.

1. Coming home from a long day at work, physically exhausted, hoping in a hot shower, covering my body head-to-toe in cocoa butter moisturiser and reading in bed. (When my work doesn’t feel at least a little like suffering, I come home and feel restless. There is no satisfaction in relaxing)

2. My head is banging from writing a song all day, I haven’t managed to get it right and it gets worse the more I try, I force myself to sit there for hours, to write until I’ve got a migraine and finally; I improvise something that I’ll be gleaming over for weeks and I am sure it would not be as catchy unless I put myself through so much frustration while making it.

3. I come home from a run in the morning, it’s the middle of winter and the sun has barely risen. I’m showering before work and can smell coffee brewing on the stove, I feel like there’s ice in my veins, energising me like electricity while I dance to a pop playlist under the boiling stream. I can’t wipe my smile off. (I wanted to die every step of my 16-minute “run”, and it took mental warfare just to get me out of bed to the front door. It never gets any easier, even when I do it every day.)

I’ve somehow shaken something loose and my tears have come back, which sounds like a bad thing but I welcome it with open arms. I’m hurting in ways I didn’t even know were possible (pain has this way of levelling up as the years go by) but taking count of moments that fill me with satisfaction, I see there’s usually something right before that challenges me. So the fact is: that satisfaction doesn’t exist in isolation, only in contrast to pain.

I’m looking forward to the season of euphoria I am owed for the pain I hold onto today.

(boo hoo!)

Be good to yourself

Ashlie

Pro tip: when you are having a mental breakdown, or just a big ol cry and the pain feels unbearable; don’t sit still. Cry while you move your body. Stand up, wiggle your arms and legs <3

I was sold the idea that hostel-style travel is the ultimate gateway to inner peace, and immersing yourself in foreign cultures is medicine for the damage done by exposure to Western capitalism. Admittedly, I am young and naive and tend to fall for catch-all solutions peddled by the privileged West. I was in a sticky situation and I do love a quick fix.

Right before I booked my flight, I was stuck convincing myself that the job I had spent years studying for, wasn’t killing my will to live. Dramatic? Well yes! I had become a washed-out, over-worn-stiff-hoodie version of Ashlie and lost all feeling in my life. I was so confused. I had everything I worked so hard for. I had finally got my “glamorous” job in the film industry, a beautiful apartment in London and an unbelievably devoted boyfriend. So why wasn’t I happy?

Travelling did not solve any of my “problems” as I had hoped, but it did buy me some time to think. Long story short, what I started to realise was this:

When you spend your days ignoring the voice in your head saying “I hate my job”, or “Nothing excites me”, you end up on a path you don’t recognise, with less room to reverse. It is terrifying to throw in the towel, ditch the gratitude journal and admit to yourself that you are unhappy. It almost always means you have to give up on a path you swore you’d see through, with absolutely no guarantee the next one will bring you any more comfort or joy. So why not stay? …When parts of you go numb like limbs in the night.

We cannot live on promises we made to ourselves when we we’re 17. When that voice in my head starts saying “I feel numb here” I’ve learnt to listen up.

I had no idea what was wrong with my life, so I changed everything just to find the culprit. If you don’t know what’s making you unhappy that might be the only option. All the crap fell out like an upturned handbag and now I’m filling it with things I want to carry around. Don’t get me wrong, all this change is hellish and I do not feel satisfied yet, but I don’t feel stuck anymore. (!!)

Proceed with caution but don’t stay in fear

Be good to yourself <3

Ashlie