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I’ve always loved art, in all forms, from a young age you would find me with pencils or paintbrushes in hand whenever I could. I love to create, to take my perception of the world and put it onto paper.

One of my favourite, and most pervasive forms artistic expression is making cards, for any occasion: birthdays, thank you, weddings, the list goes on.

To me, cards have always been a little bit like a puzzle that you get to design yourself. You cut up the pieces and you put them together so that they fit to make a whole picture. Every time I make a card to give to someone, it feels as though I am giving them a part of me; of my creativity, my love and my perception.

Some of my favourite memories of childhood, particularly school holidays, include art, from collages and floral arrangements, to painting and of course, making cards.

Let me set the scene:

Grandma’s house. The afternoon sun reaches through the windows to light up my workspace - the dining room table. Scissors are close to hand, and multicoloured cardboard is scattered beside me. Back from a walk to the craft store, I am ready to create.

First up is a card for dad, his birthday is coming up soon. I shuffle through the colours of cardboard and decide on red: Dad’s favourite football teams all use that colour.

Snip.

A strip of red cardboard falls to the table, and the remaining piece is delicately folded in half. I run my fingers along the fold and the cardboard is flattened. My nose crinkles in frustration when I notice the edges are unevenly aligned.

Snip, snip.

I cut along the edges to remove the excess cardboard and again lie the card flat. My gaze turns to the pile of cardboard, boxes of stickers and beads and ribbons. Me eyes light up as I ruffle through, assessing options and formulating ideas in my head.

There has always been a surprising amount of method to my creative process, measuring colour and line with the eye of an artist and the mind of an architect to design the perfect card for any occasion.

I pull another piece of cardboard from the pile, and when my pencil touches the paper, I don’t hesitate, forming outlines: B, I, R, T, H, D, A, Y, then...

Snip.

Offcuts of cream paper fall away in curls and corners and the letters form. I arrange them on the card in order and then, one by one, I pick up a letter, spreading glue along its back and then fixing it to the red cardboard.

Snip, snip.

The card needed a final touch, so I cut a small leaf shape from an orange piece of paper and paste it above the I. A small spot of glue and a dusting of glitter and there appears a flickering candle. Everlasting, glowing to celebrate dad for as long as the card is kept (little do I know then that he would keep this card for years to come).

This was how I spent a large portion of my week during the school holidays. This is how I can spend hours at home to this day.

I could sit there for hours making cards, coming up with different ideas of what to make, or who to make them for. Some days, I paint, and then cut out the designs to put on my cards, like handmade paper stickers. Others I draw straight onto the card. Some cards have layers of cardboard shapes I cut up pasted onto them, some have shapes cut out of them. All of them are made with love.

To this day, I am known for my “beautiful handmade cards”. I get a gift with every gift I give, as people appreciate my art and I am able to spread joy with my cards.

Amazing, what scissors and some cardboard can do.