From the Compost Heap header. A pencil style illustration of a compost heap with flowers and plants growing around it. A bee buzzes by and a white rabbit hops by.

  • Meander

    Over the last decade I have been neuroqueering my creative practice. Setting aside neurotypical, able bodied, and capitalist expectations for consistency, branding, and profit like the ill fitting shoes they are.*

    Looking back, the times in my life I was rigidly consistent I was run deeply outside my own capacity, which over time took a toll on my health (both mental and physical.)

    Allowing my creative projects to fluctuate with my capacity, as a chronically ill autistic caregiver means that they ebb & flow. Seasons when my time and energetic capacity expand so does my creative practice. When I am experiencing a pain flare or focusing on caregiving challenges my projects shift into dormancy or ideation.

    Having many different mediums means there is always something to fit my capacity.

    I NEED ART TO LIVE.

    Art is how I self regulate, how I co-regulate with my child, and how I process lived experience and the world around me.

    Without art I go to a dark place.

    For years, I had inflexible routines and self imposed deadlines that did not serve me. But the newly discovered fluidity of my creative ecosystem has allowed me to flourish in unexpected ways.

    This meander map is based on my 2025 Artist’s Log which tracked the time spent on each creative project over the course of the year.

    These undulating ribbons represent the four main streams of creativity I pursued in 2025.

    Zine shows a meander map of two overlapping lines in the form of a river both yellow and green. The lines ebb and flow across the folded page. Typed text reads Temporal analyisis meander map creative ecosystem Sarah Shotts 2025. The diagram is dated Jan to Dec from top to bottom. The horizontal scale is dormant, ideation, progress, and danger zone. Both meanders dance toward danger zone in autumn.

    Yellow: visual art

    Green: self publishing and writing

    Zine shows a meander map of two overlapping lines in the form of a river both purple and blue. The narrow lines ebb and flow. Typed text reads Temporal analyisis meander map creative ecosystem Sarah Shotts 2025. The diagram is dated Jan to Dec from top to bottom. The horizontal scale is dormant, ideation, progress, and danger zone. Blue dances close to danger zone in spring, but otherwise meanders are narrow and only reach the middle of the page.

    Blue: redesigning website & blogging

    Purple: zines

    The process of crafting these prints took several months. Calculating stats, making a graph, drafting the meanders, testing printmaking techniques, paper & inks, creating collagraph plates with unraveling cotton twine, and printing each plate onto wet paper using the Provisional Press.

    The prints were digitally combined for the zine cover and overlaid with a key on transparent vellum. This layer can be removed to display the zine as a diptych. The zine was hand typed on my 1950s Smith-Corona typewriter.

    The concept and color palette were inspired by the meander maps of geologist and cartographer Harold Fisk.

    The above text is from February’s zine. If you’d like a copy you can subscribe for $5 a month or buy a single zine in my shop.

    Here’s a peek at how the layers work together with the transparency.

    I’m also sending original prints to everyone on the $10 art collector tier.

    Here’s a peek at how the prints are coming out (ignore the buckled untrimmed paper). They will all be flattened, signed, and numbered. Each print is unique. Remaining prints will be added to my shop, and will be priced at $65.

    Collagraph print of a sage green river meander
    Collagraph print of a narrow blue river meander
    Collagraph print of a golden yellow river meander
    Collagraph print of a light purple river meander

    Collagraph is a printmaking process I learned in university. It feels good to return to it after so much time. I shared more about the process (along with a few other test prints) on the blog a few weeks ago.

    Test prints and collograph plates of a meandering river with blue ink

    Thank You

    To everyone who sent kind messages and preordered books after last week’s post about illustrating neurodivergence. Gracie & I really appreciate you and very excited to get this picture book into your hands.

    If you’d like to preorder a limited edition hardcover you can do so here.

    (Paperbacks will be coming soon at a lower price point.)

    In Case You Missed It

    If you’re having a hard time with the state of the world I wrote this for you a couple weeks ago.

    There’s some good in the world Mr. Frodo. ⛰️

    Thanks for being here and supporting my art.

    I appreciate you.

    Sarah signed with a swoopy S
    footnotes

    * Neuroqueering is used here as the verb meaning, “the practice of queering (subverting, defying, disrupting, liberating oneself from) neuronormativity and heteronormativity simultaneously” as coined by Nick Walker Ph. D.

    Read more: Meander

  • Our chaos garden has turned feral.

    After being gone for a week and sick for another here’s a look at how it’s going. And it’s going to stay this overgrown for a while.

    One of my chronic illnesses causes heat intolerance so it is what it is at this point. (I can do a bit in evenings, but can’t keep pace with the grass.)

    The perennials that hold space against the grass are key. I keep adding more of them, but we can only afford to do so much at once. 🤷

    I show this to not idealize the chaos gardening approach. It works better in some seasons than others. Between the heat and the rain the witch grass is currently winning. My main point is that you don’t have to be a perfect gardener to enjoy gardening.

    Brick house with an undulating garden bed overrun with grass. A black armillary sphere and purple russian sage pierce the weeds.
    Garden bed along fence completely overrun with grass. A tall butterfly bush towers to the left.
    The self seeded sunflowers between overgrown garden beds.

    The self seeded sunflowers are a bright light. They’ve attracted goldfinch which we don’t often see.

    Read more: untitled post 156079265

  • A little scrappy gardening vlog.

    Read more: untitled post 156078958

  • Chaos Gardening & Neurodivergence

    This month’s zine is Chaos Gardening: tips from a chronically ill & neurodivergent gardener.

    You can buy a copy or subscribe for monthly zines.*

    If you want a peek at my own chaos garden I’ve posted several photos and videos on my microblog.†

    Here is the wild bunny that’s taken up residence under my art studio (which I named The Rabbit Hole before this beauty moved in.)

    How it Feels to Me

    Here’s an update, on How it Feels to Me, the picture book about neurodiversity I’m co-creating with illustrator Gracie Klumpp.

    We’ve reached the proofing stage! I couldn’t be more excited to share a peek our progress.

    Click here to see more!

    Cover design test for How it Feels to Me - a cream cover with swatches of colors: blues, greens, oranges, the title and a dark skinned human standing at the center surrounded by a halo of objects: tokens, leaves, a traffic cone, seashell, and more color swatches. Written by Sarah Shotts. Illustrated by Gracie Klumpp. Proof #1.

    Unfortunately, this book is needed more than ever.

    Harmful information is being spread by the US government categorizing autism and ADHD as epidemics. Neurodiversity is not a broken brain! It is a brain that experiences the world differently and this picture book shows how.

    If you’d like to support the project you can preorder or donate a copy to a school, library, or a neurodivergent family in financial hardship.**

    PREORDER OR DONATE A COPY

    What is autism?

    If you missed my last email I wrote a post called What is Autism? that breaks down sensory processing and autistic differences.

    Two brain scans. The one on the left is a rainbow web reaching into all areas of the brain. The image on the right is a rainbow ribbon traveling along the language center of the brain.
    The brain on the left is autistic.
    we process a lot more information in any given moment.

    I end the post with this footnote,

    “Being neurotypical just means that your brain is processing the world like most others. This means the dominant culture has been made to support the way your brain processes the world around you. You are surrounded by supports for your neurotype every single day.”

    This is a concept I’d like to explore further. It really turns the idea of supports on it’s head.

    Click here to read the whole post.

    Novel Writing

    I finally finished the mood board for my fantasy novel.

    I’ve hung this right in my living room so it can stay in my consciousness.

    You can see the timelapse where I make it here.

    I’ve come to the conclusion I need to free up some mental capacity to really delve into this world in the way that’s needed. Turns out proofing three separate books for self publishing is kind of a lot. I’m being patient with myself. There’s no rush on this.

    Here’s a peek at my writing workspace.

    Laptop with yellow hobbit hole wallpaper. An edison bulb lamp sheds a dim golden glow on a goddess vase filled with pens. The workspace is otherwise shrouded in darkness.

    I set this up in the living room when it was too cold to be in the studio (and soon it will be too hot.) It turns out that extreme heat and cold trigger migraines so I’m afraid I am a fair weather studio artist. Accepting that my body needs what it needs means making spaces that work for me.

    I love seeing my zines land in your life.

    Here are a few photos you’ve sent me recently.

    Oh, did I mention I’ve started printmaking again?

    My I'm Fine zine, Wheel of Time mini zine and a campfire linocut print lay on a table by a row of blue and green books.
    A hand holding my Choose Your Adventure zine while wearing colorful yellow pants, striped shirt, and yellow shoes.

    Shoutout to A. Wilder and Paige Meredith Ray. You should visit their blogs.

    Ways to Support drawing of a white rabbit hopping into flowers

    The Compost Heap is handmade without the use of AI. 🐝

    Support doing things the old fashioned way by joining my Patrons ($5) and I’ll send paper zines each month with the coolest postage stamps I can find.

    Drawing of a tin can telephone and the words Let's chat

    If you’re reading this in your email inbox you can just hit reply to message me directly. I’d love to hear what you think. It makes it worth the time I put in.

    Thanks for being here.

    I appreciate you.

    Sarah signed with a swoopy S
    FOOTNOTES

    * I’m no longer digitizing zines. Due to chronic migraines I’m attempting to cut down on screentime. I wrote a bit about that here.

    † What is a microblog? Basically a social media style blog feed that I archive on my own site. I’m working on setting this up to autopost to Bluesky. I call my microblog scraps – evoking both a scrapbook or commonplace book and also the bits of kitchen scrap that end up in the compost heap.

    ** If you donate a book we are happy to find the book a home or to send it to the school or library of your choice.

    Read more: Chaos Gardening & Neurodivergence

  • Chaos Gardening: Tips from a Chronically Ill & Neurodivergent Gardener

    Chaos Gardening black and white zine among blooming daisies in my garden. The title is cut out magazine letters and peony leaf rubbings are overlaid. The subtitle readers: tips from a chronically ill and neurodivergent gardener.

    I think I’m finding my groove with zine making. I had a lot of fun going analogue this month and in addition to my typewriter I also incorporated collage and nature rubbings.

    BUY A ZINE

    Or subscribe for zines delivered to your mailbox every month.

    The back of the zine. You can read some text typed on my typewriter and see peony leaf rubbings. The text reads: VI. No dig• A few strategies I use to minimize pain are: No dig garden beds (areas with soil piled on cardboard). Cardboard lined raised beds. A low gardeningstool (B to avoid back pain & dizziness). Suppressing weeds (minimizing weeding) with cardboard or spare paving stones. Anything that will block sunlight & not blow away will do. A Kindle Curiosity Zine. May 2025.

    Read more: Chaos Gardening: Tips from a Chronically Ill & Neurodivergent Gardener

  • Therapeutic weeding. The front bed is overrun with witch grass because I wasn’t well enough to garden last year, but reclaiming it one patch at a time. Excited about our first sea holly – it’s a variety called Hobbit.

    Runner grass surrounding plants in the garden bed. My rainboot, a narrow widger, and a sea holly are also visible.
    Mulch surrounding sea holly, sage, and russian sage with tall grass growing beyond.
    Read more: untitled post 156078797
  • Black and white photograph of a blood lab with materials for drawing blood arranged in a grid on the wall.

    New doctor new bloodwork. I’ll be writing about chronic illness soon so I thought I’d take a photo while I waited for the nurse.

    Read more: untitled post 156078921
  • A pile of weeds from the wildflower area of our backyard and a green nitrile glove.

    This is the first year I’ve been well enough to really spend time weeding the wildflower area of our garden. Years past I’ve let the seeds go truly wild and only pulled a few “mean dandelions” (you know, the spiky ones) and weeds I suspected might be poisonous. This year I’m enjoying sitting among the bachelor buttons and pulling up plants that are less desirable so we have fewer weedy seedlings competing with wildflowers next year.

    Read more: untitled post 156078915

  • My Year of Making (January Recap)

    When I started my year of making I had intentions for writing weekly updates for my blog or newsletter. Then the month unraveled, our whole family got sick, and I shifted into survival mode.

    So I’m giving myself some Brownie points for being flexible (not easy for an Autie) and picking up the pieces to write monthly check ins instead.

    The month started by easing in with baking and journaling and photos for Davy’s first (half) day of Montessori school.

    Digital collage of First Day of Preschool toddler in yellow raincoat

    Then I tried to calibrate my new Cricut. (It was a hate-hate relationship… in the end I returned it and used the money to buy electroforming supplies instead.)

    And the second week we came down sick. First Davy, then the whole family. It was his first time having a fever for anything besides teething. The first few days I kept track of making soup and tea and macaroni out of a box. Then my own fever went up and it was all I could do to just keep us going.

    It’s a tribute to what I’ve learned through motherhood that I was able to let that go and look back with empathy instead of self judgement. It was hard.

    A couple days out from February we started coming alive again and I resumed my making quest. The final day of January was my first proper day making art in my new studio. I returned to an art project I started in February 2, 2020 and had been on the shelf ever since.

    Digital collage of photographs printed on fabric and ironing set up

    My takeaways from this month?

    Sometimes you honor your inner artist by resting and healing. Sometimes making what you need for survival is enough. Other times you have the energy to pick up a long lost project and you stitch two timelines together through the metaphysical magic of time travel.

    UPDATE: September 2021

    I hid this blog post when I stopped writing monthly updates. At the time I was discouraged because we were sick every month from January – May and my year looked nothing like I had imagined. Looking back I can see how I did keep making (in small and simple ways), but I didn’t have the time or energy to document. Then in June (the first month none of us fell sick) my creative world expanded. If you’re finding it hard to create at the moment I see you. Don’t give up. Take the small moments you can. They count even if no one else is seeing them.

    Read more: My Year of Making (January Recap)