Philosophy

Notes from an Autistic Color Practitioner | An autistic fiber artist shares how color, texture, and the Dash-Dye practice became tools for nervous system regulation — not despite her neurodivergence, but because of it.

Six Years Sober, Six Years Making: What Recovery Taught Me About Color. A personal essay on six years of sobriety and six years of color practice — what recovery taught a neurodivergent fiber artist about joy, sensation, and the body’s own wisdom. Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Abstract art invites reflection, connection, and creativity, and so does dash dyeing. This process isn’t just about aesthetics; it’s an emotional journey and an invitation to create.

Alexander McQueen didn’t just make clothes; he told stories. His designs were bold, fierce, and unapologetically emotional. He was a designer who poured his soul into his creations, and you can do it, too.

At More Joy, we believe that when people are given space to create, feel, and exist without interruption, something magical happens. We honor the beautiful spectrum of neurodiversity and invite you into a more colorful, inclusive, and joyful way of being.

Dash Dyeing With the Wind! In this reflection inspired by David Lynch’s The Grandmother, I explore how my own creative practice—dash dyeing in my backyard with pigment, wind, and intuition—has become a sacred ritual that has transformed me. This is the story of how we make what we need, and how what we make remakes us. Sometimes, creating art is how we find our Creator.

By showing up authentically—grounded, messy, and human—you normalize imperfection and create space for genuine connection. Joy is found not in erasing flaws but in transforming them into something extraordinary. Pursue what lights you up, wear your colors boldly, and celebrate being beautifully human.

See how a trip to the museum might shift your mood in a way that your brain can know. The Nature of Color might show you what you need more of but you have to go there to experience it first hand! Bring your curiosity!

It’s been six years since I made the quiet, powerful decision to begin healing—slowly and carefully, one practice at a time. What started as sobriety has become something much larger: a full-body return to myself.