Words by Sonah (Sonny) Chaudhry
Before Creative Spaces, I was doing a lot — working for a bushcraft organisation in Moffat, studying History with the Open University, and trying to get my self-taught jewellery business off the ground. My brand, Sonny Cooper Jewellery, was growing slowly online. I shared my unconventional techniques, my experiments and the mistakes — and people were starting to notice… I think?
But none of it felt connected. It was like I had all the right ingredients but no recipe. The work was there. The drive was there. But it all lived in silos.
Then, in 2023, I learned about Creative Spaces.
Reaching Out
The Creative Spaces team first got in touch via Instagram and invited me to do a takeover. At the time, I didn’t come from a world where being paid to be creative felt like a real option. Creativity was something you did on the side. So when the opportunity landed, I took it seriously. I borrowed a mate’s camera, wrote out a plan, and put together something I hoped would impress.
That takeover led to another unexpected opportunity: speaking at the Creative Spaces showcase. I shared my story — a mix of history, jewellery, identity — and tried my best to stay honest and open about the journey. Truthfully, I can hardly remember what the ‘message’ of my speech was meant to be… other than: keep on keepin’ on with what you care about…something will come along… or whatever?
That turned out to be kind of prophetic (minus the whatever).
By the end of the night, I turned to Mia and asked, “Can I apply to the next cohort?”
She said yes.
I got to work.
Big surprise — I got the job.
Learning in Layers
Creative Spaces started like no other job I’d had: transparent, structured, dynamic. It gave us an induction, introduced us to The Stove’s inner workings, and gently challenged us to think beyond what we already knew. I wasn’t used to working in a team, and I definitely wasn’t used to having this kind of support.
It wasn’t about instant results. The learning was slow, layered, and generous. Over time, we were shown the many faces of The Stove: events, placemaking, public art, networks, production. It was a mosaic — and we were invited to add our own tiles.
For me, it was a return to a kind of curiosity I hadn’t felt since I was younger. During lockdown, I lived in the countryside with my parents. That quiet time gave me space to start exploring jewellery — just messing around, teaching myself. Creative Spaces echoed that energy, but with a difference: this time, the space was intentional, built with care, and designed to help people go forward.
Reframing
One of the biggest shifts for me this year wasn’t discovering that my jewellery tells stories — I’ve always felt that. What changed was how I began to understand and articulate those stories more clearly. Before Creative Spaces, I had all these threads — my jewellery practice, my love of history, my interest in education, my drive to build community — but they lived in separate rooms in my head.
Creative Spaces gave me a way to organise those threads. It helped me see how my passions could work together rather than compete for space. I started to recognise that history itself — the way we engage with it, reinterpret it, pass it on — is a form of storytelling. And storytelling is a creative act.
That realisation became the foundation for my personal project: Makers Unite, a two-day art exchange where people could trade something they made for a piece of my jewellery. It wasn’t about the monetary value — it was about what it means to make something and offer it to someone else, and hear about their story. I received food, crafts, songs, conversations. What mattered was the intention behind each exchange — the act of sharing something meaningful without judgement or transaction.
And that spirit — of shared value, mutual creativity, and openness — is something I now see as central to both my jewellery and my historical work. It’s not about separating the academic from the artistic, or the personal from the political. It’s about finding the space where they all meet — and working from there.
History as Creative Practice
Before this programme, I kept my history degree and my jewellery work in different lanes. I never thought of history as a creative practice — I thought of it as academic, logical, something with rules.
But when I started digging into my own family history — as someone who is mixed-race, who did not always feel like I could talk about this— I realised that telling history is about making sense of silences. It’s about refusing to be shaped by other people’s versions of you and constructing your own narrative instead.
That’s creative work. It’s also personal, political, and powerful. And I’ve learned that my practice — whether I’m making something with my hands or writing an essay — is rooted in the same impulse: to remember and to connect.
The Power of the Collective
One of the most unexpected joys this year was the sense of collective energy. My fellow Spacers — each so different — became part of my world in a way I didn’t expect. We worked together, laughed together, failed together, and made space for each other’s growth. I felt seen in a creative scene I never thought I’d belong in.
It reminded me of how deeply social creativity is — how much it relies on trust, care, and a willingness to be in process, not just product.
Before this, I had spent years trying to carve a path alone. But Creative Spaces showed me that the right kind of structure, held by the right kind of people, can be transformative. It took everything I’d been trying to do solo — and gave it a container, a language and a rhythm.
Places Aren’t Static
For a long time, Dumfries didn’t feel like a place where I belonged. I didn’t see myself in it. I didn’t feel reflected back. But that wasn’t because Dumfries was fixed — it was because I hadn’t yet accessed the version of it that had space for me.
Creative Spaces helped me find that version. The version full of experimentation, kindness, collaboration. The version shaped by people and vision — not just tradition.
Places aren’t static. They become what we put into them. They become what we’re allowed to put into them. Creative Spaces made space for me — and now, I hope to keep making space for others.
To the People Who Made It
To James and Anna — you’re magic. I’ve learned so much from you and it has been a privilege to see you grow.
To Mia — thank you for your trust, care, and guidance. You are wise, caring and passionate beyond you years.
To the wider Stove team — You’re building something beautiful.
I came into this unsure if I could ever build a future out of the things I loved. Now I know I can — and that I don’t have to do it alone.
