I turn 50 this year (2026). I started my life as a prolific artist in theater, dance, and writing. At nine years old I was already a semi-professional performing artist and by twelve I did my first international tour. Somewhere between becoming a mother of three, my creative life quietly faded. I am so grateful to be a mother. I would do it all over again to have the honor of raising three inspiring souls and, perhaps paradoxically, I grieve creativity deferred.

I kept making things, but through other people's visions. I built a career as an arts programmer, cultural strategist, and researcher. I collaborated. I supported. I championed. All of it meaningful. None of it born of me. The whole time, I kept emailing myself ideas. Subject line: Art to Make. The first one was in 2002. In 2022 I went back through twenty years of emails and counted. 130 projects. Unmade.

Some are small. Some are enormous. Some are strange. Some feel more urgent than ever. I don't know how many projects I'll get to do, but I know that my next quarter century belongs to making again. Not just being a strategist about creativity. Not just holding space for other artists. Actually making.

Unmade is my account of what's been waiting. If I'm anything like my grandmother, I've got another 50 years to fill.

You can support my creative bucket list here: https://ko-fi.com/kamalsinclair