Creating The Art of Presence - insights from a 2 year journey

It hasn’t been a straightforward process, far from it.

The long, meandering journey of creating this resource changed me as a person, and completely transformed me as an artist. It helped me in ways I knew I needed, and also guided me in directions I couldn’t have foreseen.

(A few points before the full story begins below)

Along the way I learnt the following:

• Resilience. Over the course of 2+ years I picked this project up and put it down several times, sometimes stagnating in self-doubt for several months at a time. But I didn't give up, and I'm glad I didn't.

• Overcoming the need for validation. There came a moment, long before The Art of Presence was released into the world, where I finally felt at peace with it. A sense of pride, accomplishment and love for what I had done. I no longer felt a rush to get it out into the world. Even with its shortfalls, I was proud of it, deep within myself. Not only because of what it was, but because of how it came to be, and the thousands of small wins/losses that had got it this far. Eventually a time came where I wasn’t worried about what people would think of it. I didn’t need feedback to confirm its value, I could feel the value, not in my mind, but in my heart. I made peace with the fact that nothing you create will resonate with everyone. But if there is just one person out there who resonates. If there is a person out there that feels comforted and supported by this resource, then that is enough.

• Learning to receive guidance and support. The Art of Presence wouldn't be what it is without the people who contributed, guided and supported it along the way. It has taught me the immense value, insight and camaraderie gained from simply reaching out and asking for help.

• Overcoming the fear of being seen in vulnerability. Focusing instead on who this could serve, and pushing through the self-judgment and insecurity.

• Acceptance. Being frustrated with myself for taking so long, but learning to accept this for what it is, eventually giving myself space and time to be slow.

• Understanding. There are seasons of creativity and productivity. Don’t confuse daily progress with overall progress, because the latter requires many pauses and pivots.

• The value of following your heart. The things I’ve learnt and the person it’s helped me become could not have been foreseen. Having a mission helps, however small it may be. If it means something to you, even if nobody else cares, that’s enough.

• Letting go. As with art, there comes a point where you must release your creation, and cease to refine it. As a perfectionist, this was a challenge. But it feels liberating to release my grip and share something which isn’t perfect. It’s good enough to serve its purpose, even though I could continue refining it forever. I’ve come to terms with the fact that the imperfections, the words that may make some people cringe, the raw humanness of it all, is visible for people to see. Taking advice from the words I’ve written in the book, imperfections are not a flaw or a failure, they are an inevitable and valuable thread in the fabric that shouldn’t be pulled out. Doing so might protect my ego, but at the cost of the character and relatability that would be lost. Pulling out all the loose ends can loosen the weave.

In October 2021, when I started doing the drawing practice from which The Art of Presence emerged, it was purely for me. I never planned to turn it into what it has become. It happened very organically. I didn’t search around or research a particular technique, I just followed my instincts, let go, and something started unfolding. I was somewhat desperate for peace and clarity at the time, feeling quite lost.

I was navigating constant creative blocks in my career, the new Brexit travel restrictions made it really complicated to be with my girlfriend who lived abroad, and to be honest, I've always been prone to unpredictable highs and lows, it's a part of my life I've learn't to embrace. My life was quite turbulent at the time, and one particular day, while we were trying to set up a new life in Amsterdam, I took a long walk along the Amstel to clear my head. I'd been struggling to create lately, and the pressure was mounting. I had bills to pay, endless lists of things to arrange, and as is a common theme in my life, I didn't have a clear sense of where I belong or where I would be living the following month. Eventually, I surrendered to it, ceased to search for a way out, and gradually started to ground myself.

As I reached the top of the Amstel that day, I wandered into an art store and bought some beautiful drawing paper that caught my attention (the exact same paper that I've included within The Art of Presence drawing set - that paper has history). I meditatively walked back to my friends apartment where we were staying temporarily, and began to draw in a way I hadn't done before. I repeated the drawing exercise on the following days, and cannot understate how much it helped me. There was nothing particularly clever or technical about it. The particular drawing ritual I stumbled upon happened blindly. 

Months later, we moved to Amsterdam and I was in a better place (still didn't have my visa at this point though, so had to get a train to the UK every few weeks to tattoo and wait until I was allowed back into Europe. Another story for another day). I reflected on how this simple practice had helped me navigate a difficult time, and from a place of compassion, decided that I would like to share this with others. The practice is very simple. When I first wrote the instructions it was a single sheet of A4. I left this for a while.

Seeing it in my journal a few months later, it seemed kind of silly. An experience I had may not translate into something useful for other people. The world is a noisy place and I didn’t want to add to the noise, with guidance which may not be helpful. Even though the drawing practice was still helping me, I dismissed the note I had written, again.

It took almost a year until I came across this note again. I was fumbling my way through a low patch and was flicking through my old journals when I found the instructions. I decided to start doing the drawing practice again. The simple routine helped pull me out, again. It was at this point that I decided to overcome my self-doubt, and let feelings of compassion win over. March 2023 - I started writing a guide to this drawing practice, and the story behind it. I realised that the context of the practice was crucial to the story, despite my discomfort with writing about myself. Even though it was challenging, I began a long journey of trying to put this on paper.

Over the coming months I felt a fire burning inside me, as the narrative started to emerge. But I had to dig really deep to fuel this fire. It was a very disciplined period. When I wasn’t tattooing I would wake up early to take cold water swims in the river (Marineterrein was my regular spot, for any Amsterdam locals that are reading this) before the city awoke, cycle to the gym and then straight to a cafe where I would journal, before heading to the public library of Amsterdam, where I would write.

I wanted to write this from the heart, with a clear state of mind. I remained completely sober during the months of writing the book, and worked hard to live by the words I was writing, in regards to both discipline, self-care, and acceptance. It was a beautiful, significant time. There were many days where I would sit down to write and nothing would come. Returning home late, empty handed after having skipped social events and gatherings so I could work on my book. But there were many moments which I cherish to this day. Breakthrough moments where I felt my fear, ego and self-doubt dissipate as a warm loving feeling would spread through me and flow onto the page. Words in service of others.

Before I finished writing the book, we decided to leave Amsterdam and head off on an adventure. There was a part of me that wanted to stay so that I could finish, and enjoy the stability that I had built over the previous months. But, I couldn’t resist the adventure. I’ve always struggled with that. I spent my 20s constantly travelling. Rarely staying in the same place for more than a few weeks as I avoided visa restrictions, followed work, and chased adventures. To be honest, it’s still the same now, and I can’t really foresee that changing for a while yet. But that’s a crucial part of the story. I’ll forever be grateful for the experiences I’ve been blessed with, the remote corners of this beautiful planet I’ve been lucky enough to witness and the incredible people I've met along the way.

But needless to say, this constant movement has fed into my sense of instability, the confusion with my sense of home. This sense of instability is crucial to the story, because that’s where it emerged from. So it seems fitting that the book was finished, not in the peace and quiet of a western library, but in the wild remote corners of Indonesia. The final words were written on planes, trains and precarious boats, as we floated through Java, Sumatra, Sulawesi and Raja Ampat.

While I was in Lombok, at the end of 2023, it seemed that it was done. With the incredible support of a dear friend back in the UK, we published the book, built the drawing sets and released a small batch of prototypes.

It felt surreal to have actually done it. There was a shocking amount of work that took place behind the scenes and by the time it was done, and the limited run of prototypes were shipped out across the world, I was exhausted. I’d poured so much into it, and by the time it was done, I couldn’t really see it clearly, it was way too close. I took a break from it for a while, and decided to hold off on creating more sets until I was ready. I closed down the website and continued traveling and tattooing in Australia, New Zealand and then headed to Sri Lanka before we made our way back to Europe in the spring of 2024.

I focused on tattooing for the next 6 months, moving between London, Berlin and Amsterdam. The Art of Presence was always in the back of my mind, but there was something about it that didn’t feel quite right. I can’t really put my finger on why. I wanted to share it with the world, but I guess I didn’t feel ready. The book sat on the bedside table in my London apartment for 6 months. I glanced at it almost every day, before I was ready to revisit it. 

October, 2024. I decided to change how I tattooed. I would no longer design or prepare. Everything would be created freehand, in the moment. Honest, human, imperfect art. I can look back now and see quite clearly that while I was stagnating with The Art of Presence, it was still very much alive. I could barely look at it, but the words I had written and the lessons I had shared from my heart were embedding themselves in my subconscious. This was what fueled my seemingly random and dramatic shift to freehand tattooing in the Autumn of 2024.

Following this revelation, I had a burst of inspiration to revive The Art of Presence. I decided to get out of my own head and ask for feedback. Perhaps that would guide and inspire me to not give up on it. With only a few days to prepare before I was due to fly to Portugal for a few months, I decided to build a small number of prototypes. Inspiration doesn’t always come at a convenient or logical time. Sometimes you need to jump at it whilst you’re still scrambling to balance other things. You don’t know when or if it will come again.

I made a list of people to which I would send these prototypes, alongside a questionnaire so I could collect their detailed feedback. I rushed around to get these packaged, and posted them after getting back from a friend’s wedding, and literally moments before flying to Portugal. It was a tight logistical squeeze, which was completely self-inflicted, but somehow kind of funny. I’d sat with it for almost a year, stagnating. And then all of a sudden, when I didn’t have time to do so, I decided I urgently needed to get it moving, and almost missed my flight in the process.

Over the coming months I received the most heart warming, honest and immensely valuable feedback from the test group. I ruminated on this for a while, until I was ready to revise the book in the spring of 2025. Much like a piece of art, sometimes time and distance is required to see things clearly, to actually understand the thing which came out of your soul. A little older, perhaps a touch wiser, and most importantly, with the guidance of others, I was able to finish the project I had started 2 years earlier.

At the time of writing this, on the 14th October 2025, I’m at peace and deeply proud of what I’ve created and the long journey I’ve walked to get it there. Perhaps you’ll look at it when your set arrives in the post, and will wonder why it took me so long. I’m ok with that now. There were moments that I was so frustrated and almost ashamed that something so simple was taking me so long. That embarrassment actually stopped me from moving forward. But I understand it now. I have no shame, only immense pride and respect for the efforts of my past self, as he tried his best to create something of value to others, from a place of instability.

Creating this resource is just the very beginning. The Art of Presence is just the first of many resources I will release into the world. From a small ember, a fire has grown. There were many long moments where the flames died down, but the embers always remained, receptive to any fuel I was able to provide. In the light that this fire now casts, I can see a path before me which is clearer than I’ve ever seen before. I know that the path will wind, and occasionally be obscured, but with the experience I’ve gained, I know that I can walk it, and I’m deeply excited for the mission before me.

If you’re still reading this, I would like to thank you for your attention. I would also like to close by encouraging you to reflect on what’s alive within you. If you have a passion, an idea, however silly or insignificant, please don’t overlook it. It’s these silly little sparks which can ignite embers, cast light and emanate the warmth we all need. Do it for yourself, even if you’re not yet ready to share it with others. The journey will take you to places and change you in ways you could never predict. We each hold within us a source of light. Don’t let life or society get you down in the shadows, not for too long anyway, because the light that comes from you naturally, passively, may just help someone find their way.

With love,

George.