Lately, I’ve been paying closer attention to how my space affects my mood — not in a big, dramatic way, but quietly, moment by moment.

I notice it most when a space feels ready for me. When things are clean and organised, my supplies are within reach, and there’s a sense of visual calm around me. My body responds before my mind does. My shoulders soften. I can focus. I feel supported before I even begin.

Light plays a huge role too. Morning sun or golden hour completely changes the feeling of a room. I love how light moves through my space — catching on sparkly curtains, crystals hanging in front of windows, tiny reflections dancing across the walls. Those moments feel intimate and alive, like the room itself is participating in the creative process. Nothing about the work changes, but my connection to it deepens.

Sound matters more than I used to realise. The gentle movement of wind chimes, the way a breeze carries sound through an open space — it all adds a softness that helps me settle. It’s subtle, but it makes the environment feel kinder, less rigid, more human.

Colour is another layer I’m always navigating. I’m drawn to bright, vibrant colours — they energise me and spark creativity — but I also love whitewashed wood, beachy textures, and objects that feel calm and sun-worn. I’ve learned that it’s not about choosing one or the other. It’s about balance. When bold colour is grounded by light, neutral elements, the space feels both inspiring and safe.

When a space feels off, it’s usually the opposite. Mess everywhere. Things piled on tables and floors. Objects that don’t belong where they are. That clutter creates distraction and mental noise, and I can feel my mood shift almost instantly. Right now, after weeks of markets, both my candle studio and art studio are cluttered and neglected — and I can feel it. The chaos doesn’t just exist around me; it seeps into how I feel.

What I’ve learned is that the shift doesn’t require anything dramatic. Often, it starts with a simple decision to bring things back into order. Tidying. Clearing surfaces. Letting the space breathe again. And once that’s done, I’ll often light a candle or spray a room spray — not as a deliberate ritual, but as a way of resetting the atmosphere. Almost like saying, okay, we’re starting fresh.

I usually light a candle when I want to slow down and relax — before starting a painting, when winding down at the end of the day with a book, or when I’m feeling low and need a small moment just for myself. What I’m really seeking in those moments is permission to pause. To re-centre. To come back to myself instead of everything else competing for my attention.

When I don’t have that option, it feels oddly disappointing, as though something essential is missing. A small detail, but one that changes how the space — and my mood — feels.

I’ve also noticed how closely creativity is tied to emotional safety. When I was in turmoil in a past love relationship i, creativity felt fragile and blocked. When I felt emotionally safe again, it slowly reopened. That experience made it clear to me that creativity doesn’t respond well to pressure — it responds to kindness, safety, and spaces that feel supportive rather than demanding.

And this isn’t just about making art. Our nervous system is constantly responding to our surroundings, often before we consciously realise it. about how we live. How we recover between ideas. How we allow our surroundings to work with us instead of against us.

Becoming more aware of how your space affects your mood can be a powerful starting point. Not to fix everything — but to notice what supports you, what drains you, and what helps you feel more at ease in your own environment.

These small things don’t change everything.

But they change enough.

And sometimes, that’s all we need.

x mimi

I’m curious — what’s one small thing in your space that affects your mood more than you realise?
Or something that feels a little off right now?
If you feel like sharing, I’d love to read your thoughts in the comments.