There is probably some deep connection between my love and aptitude for whirling like a dervish – which I will do by the hour, given appropriate conditions – and my enjoyment of making mandalas. Both are centring techniques, and a whirling skirt is as circular as a mandala is. Whirling ls the wild, active, Sufi approach, while mandalas are the calm, quiet, Buddhist approach to the same search, to find the eye of the chaotic whirlwind within our minds, the silent centre that is the seat of the being.

I create the mandalas, for the most part, in India, where I was originally inspired to start making them by a rather terrifying woman called Taro. She ran a mandala-making studio at the Osho Commune International in Pune (where I also learned my whirling). Taro taught that the process of making mandalas itself should be meditative. While I could not honestly claim that this is always the case for me, the end results work well as meditation aids: my mind can get lost by the hour in my own mandalas.

These pieces are a recent chapter in a life-long involvement with art in various capacities. Already in my childhood, in a lush and leafy part of southern England, the quest for beauty dominated my life. I spent hours doodling and ferreting out those images and objects that conformed to my aesthetic sense. From the first, these tended to be the arts of the Orient  – from Persian miniatures and Islamic ceramic work to Indian temples and silk paintings, to Chinese ivories and Japanese prints  – all arts characterised by a strong sense of design, rhythmical patterns, brilliant colours and an abundance of decorative detail.

After attending (part of) a foundation course at what is now known as University College for the Creative Arts in Farnham, Surrey, however, I veered off into art history, gaining a doctorate with a thesis about the influence of esotericism and occultism on the Surrealists, from the Courtauld Institute of Art in London. It was notable that I found myself increasingly more deeply touched by the alchemy, astrology, Kabbala and other esoteric systems of thought I was exploring in my research work than by the Surrealist art itself. I felt in tune with their quest for a deeper understanding of the macrocosm, and of the human microcosm, than that offered by the conventional western worldview.

While doing this research work, I was also acting as Paris-based critic for the prestigious Art International magazine. This entry into journalism ultimately led to several years at The European newspaper, working variously as art, architecture and travel editor. When this publication closed in 1997, I turned to freelance journalism. Throughout the years spent writing and editing, I never failed to create an annual series of handmade Christmas cards.