Lately, I’ve been drawing portals. You may have spotted them on some of my socials, those line formations that look a little like doorways, wormholes, thresholds, or something quietly humming beneath the surface.
The funny thing is, I didn’t set out to draw them. I didn’t sit down one morning and think, “Today I’m going to create a collection of portals.” They just… arrived.
One appeared as a doodle on my on a corner of my notepad, then my sketchbook.
And I’ve learned that when something keeps showing up in my work, it’s usually worth paying attention to, even if I don’t understand it yet.
The Pull Towards Thresholds
When I sit with these drawings, and reflect it seems there’s something about portals that fascinates me.
They’re not destinations. They’re not beginnings. They’re not endings.
They’re the space in between. The threshold. The moment before the moment. The breath you take before stepping into something new.
I wonder if that’s why they keep appearing. Maybe I’m in a threshold season without fully realising it. Maybe you are too.
Life isn’t always made up of dramatic transformations. More often, we’re quietly becoming, standing between who we’ve been and who we’re about to be.
Portals feel like symbols of that space. Not loud instructions. Just gentle invitations. A whisper rather than a shout.
“Come and see what’s on the other side.”
Maybe It Started with Liminal Spaces
A little while ago, I was chatting with my son about liminal spaces and that new movie The Backrooms, it’s such a strange, compelling idea: endless corridors, empty rooms, and places that feel familiar, yet somehow not quite right.
~Watch the official trailer for The Backrooms on YouTube → Official Trailer
We haven’t even watched the movie yet, but perhaps the conversation planted a seed. Maybe it nudged something in my imagination.
They’re places that seem suspended between one thing and another. Unsettling. Intriguing. Mysterious.
And maybe that’s why my portals started appearing, quiet references to entryways, thresholds, and the spaces we move through without fully understanding them.
Portals as Possibility
Upon sitting down to write this, I’ve realised that what I love most about my portals is how hopeful they feel.
A doorway suggests movement. Potential. Change. Possibility.
It’s no surprise that portals appear so often in myths, dreams, stories, and folklore. They’re symbols of transformation, the point where the ordinary meets the unknown. The moment someone chooses to step towards something bigger, softer, braver, stranger, or truer.
Drawing them feels a little like practising possibility. Not knowing exactly what’s next, but remaining open to it.
Following the Breadcrumbs
One of the things I’m learning is that I don’t always need to understand everything straight away.
Some ideas arrive fully formed. Others arrive as breadcrumbs, small clues leading somewhere I can’t yet see.
Portals feel like breadcrumbs. A recurring symbol that’s asking me to pay attention. To stay curious. To keep following the thread.
Maybe they’ll become part of a collection for Lucky Threads. Maybe they’ll evolve into something I haven’t imagined yet.
Right now, I’m happy to let them remain a mystery.
A Thought for You
If portals keep appearing in my work, perhaps they’re appearing in your life too. Maybe you’re standing at a threshold without even realising it.
You don’t need to know what’s on the other side. You don’t need a map. You don’t even need certainty.
Just notice the pull. Sometimes that’s enough.
About me
Artist, thread enthusiast, collector of curious symbols, and currently following a trail of portals to wherever they decide to take her.
Made with thread, coffee and a slightly chaotic brain
🖤Claire