Creative work, writing and projects from Gwen
For half a year I promoted small creative projects the old-fashioned way: laminating flyers and pinning them around one UK town. The boards taught me more about audience than any analytics dashboard — mostly because they are completely unbothered by my feelings.
I asked a potter, an illustrator and a bookbinder I know to make me small things, then wrote down every brief, budget and cringe-inducing email. Paying friends isn’t the end of intimacy — it’s often the beginning of a clearer kind of respect.
Likes are not feedback and reach is not an audience. An argument for the monthly, face-to-face critique night — plus a sensible format, some ground rules, and what to do when somebody's feelings get bruised.
A candid, step-by-step account of putting on a one-day exhibition in a borrowed village hall — what it really costs, what you can scrounge, and how to make a draughty room feel deliberate. Written for anyone who has quietly decided that showing work in public is for other people.
A rolling public project in which Gwen Turner asks ten UK makers one question: what creative object or piece of work do you wish you had kept? Their answers become a quiet essay about memory, materials and the rough versions we undervalue.
Gwen Turner argues that abandoned creative projects are useful records rather than embarrassments. Part personal essay, part gentle anti-perfectionist guide, this is a practical look at how to review, reuse or retire old work without shame.
I invited strangers into my front room to look at unfinished work, rough drafts and all. It was awkward, warm, and surprisingly useful — here is what happened and how you could try a smaller version.
A £10 charity-shop haul, one damp Saturday, and five small projects with honest notes on what worked and what absolutely did not. This is budget creativity with a British high street wobble.
Social platforms are faster, louder and more exhausting than ever. A personal-name site like gwenturner.co.uk offers something different: a calm, owned home for writing, projects and identity. Here is what belongs there, what does not, and why UK creatives should keep one.
When the UK daylight shrinks to a sliver by four o'clock, making anything can feel like a stretch. These seven small rituals from Gwen Turner's desk are designed for dark evenings, low energy and the quiet stretch between November and the new year.