lessons in looking is a newsletter by visual artist and writer Ludi Leiva — slow essays on presence, attention, making, and what we gain when we stop and look for a while. Free to read, with paid subscriptions available for those who’d like to support the work.
In January, I started an intensive programme at the Royal Drawing School, which became a thematic focus of my practice and life during this past year. At the end of November, that programme came to an end.
As we signed off and said our goodbyes, to classmates and tutors we’d spent so much of our year with, I experienced a mix of emotions. This programme was a life-changing one. I drew and painted more than I ever have in the past 11 months, and my practice was stretched out in what felt like a million directions. I no longer sit before a blank canvas or sheet of paper and feel stressed I know myself and my voice much better, and have I practiced following my intuition when it comes to drawing and making art. (I recently spoke more about this in an interview with Odalisque Magazine). All to say, I am feeling very nourished by where I currently am in my practice, and this programme is a huge contributor to why I am feeling that way. There was sadness, relief, nostalgia — that feeling in the moment where you already just know that you’re going to miss something — but also, there was deep exhaustion.
This last year has been one of the most challenging years of my life, up there with 2020 when I went through a layoff, a breakup, and moved across the world, all at once and against the backdrop of a nascent pandemic. 2025 did hold some high highs — getting engaged to my partner, buying our first home together, getting to exhibit work alongside artists I admire at my first London art fair (and selling a couple of works!), getting a grant to create a new community art space in Stockholm, which will be a big part of my upcoming year (more on this soon!) — but also some low lows: struggling to find a therapist who I feel connected with and better manage my anxiety, OCD, and ADHD (one of the challenges of being an immigrant), being confronted with old patterns and limiting beliefs that I thought I already dealt with, realizing that many of these beliefs I believe are not even mine but come from an older, ancestral source, dealing with financial pressure as I’ve continued to choose to navigate away from my previous focus areas of illustration and commercial art. I’ve also dealt with ongoing health issues, as well as a repetitive stress injury in my hand for the greater part of this year, which has represented a lot of fear, stress, and despair regarding not only my practice but also my livelihood (more on that here). It was a year of paradoxes, as life seems to be filled with. And right now I am very tired. But it’s a tiredness that makes sense, and so I want to do all I can to support my body and mind as it processes and integrates all that this year came with.
In Chinese astrology, this is the year of the Snake. It is a year of shedding, and that can be painful and at the very least uncomfortable. I’ve done a lot of that in the last months: letting go of parts of myself and my identity that I once had clung tightly too and realized no longer serve me, learning to feel truly worthy of rest — something that has been so difficult for me. But, like the snake, I am practicing trust in the process of shedding off old skin, old ways, old versions of myself.
I realize it most in periods like this, these liminal gaps of time between something that’s ending and something that’s soon beginning. These little spaces between the skin that’s shedding and in process of sloughing off, and the fresh, tender replacement that lies beneath. Just there, lies a bubble of time and space that is precious and meant to be protected: a space for gratitude, reflection, integration, and rest. It’s the long, deep breath before diving into a cold body of water. Or the wiggling of toes into the ground to remind yourself that you’re alive and here now, before taking that first step into new, uncharted territory.
Knowing this past year has been one of enormous growth and upheaval, I want to be intentional about how I wind down this (Gregorian) year before rushing too quickly into “what’s next.” In the coming weeks, I plan to prioritize rest and reflection. This, for me, means less mindless scrolling, more meditation, walking, and embodiment; less rushing to entertain myself when I have nothing to “do” and more allowing for silence, boredom, and simply being. This is a practice that sounds simple but is incredibly difficult these days, for so many of us.
On Sunday, I am heading to Guatemala for the first time since 2019, and spending a couple of weeks there with almost my entire extended family. There, I will see people, landscapes, and impressions that are precious to me. Sounds and smells that bring me back to summers in childhood, foods that feel like home. I will get to introduce my fiancé to a world and part of me that he’s never experienced before. On top of this, I will also be participating in creative workshops that I know will further deepen my practice and connect me to my ancestors, including learning how to make and use natural and botanical dyes as well as some fundamental weaving. During these weeks, I intend to be as present and embodied as I possibly can in my reality.
I hope that this trip will be that little bubble of time and space, one where I can really allow my body and spirit to settle, my spiritual toes to wiggle and ground into the earth and the present moment. I will intentionally spend very little time on my phone, computer, or social media, so I won’t be writing my next newsletter until I’m back in Sweden in mid-January. At that point, I will slowly start to put together reflections on this year, as well as my trip. I’ll also be sharing sketchbook scans from my time there, and the start a new project: a 365-days of daily drawing sketchbook for the year of 2026. So stay tuned!
I hope you can find a way to do allow your spirit and body to really settle, too, in whatever way makes sense for your needs and circumstances. This time of year is so meaningful and energetically charged as we switch from one calendar year to the next, and close the energetic chapter we’ve been living in for the last twelve months. As much as possible, I hope we can allow ourselves to land in this in-between space, and really savour it, before rushing too quickly into the vortex of a new year. I think our future selves will thank us for it.
I’ve recently started a new mail project where I send art and letters to members around the world each month. December’s print sign-up is now open, so click the link below if you’d like to receive it:
✦ I was interviewed for Odalisque Magazine, read the interview here.
✦ I recently showed work at Woolwich Contemporary Print Fair in London with Rhodes Editions, and it was a fantastic experience! I’m happy that two of these three prints on the wall (see photo below) have found new homes.
✦ I illustrated the cover and 11 illustrations for a book on gender and race, just published in Sweden — Ras och kön i tider av vit melankoli: texter i urval by Catrin Lundström & Tobias Hübinette
✦ I created a custom window painting for a restaurant in Stockholm, one of four I’ll be doing for each season for a year.
Thank you for reading and for being here. Your support means so much. If this letter resonated with you, please consider leaving a comment or sharing lessons in looking with a friend. Thank you for supporting independent artists and publications!
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