About

The Sorting House – Who? What? Where? When? Why?

Bonjour, hello, welcome to my virtual home aka The Sorting House, you may know me as Natacha Neveu, or Chacha, or it could well be something else entirely…

Although I cannot think of anything more lame and limiting than pre-defined and oft-misinterpreted labels born of wilfully confused Babylon, this perspective won’t decorate the about section you were hoping for. So for the purpose of this page, I’ll make some effort to conform to the expected…

Essentially, I am a creative; a writer, a conscious guide and loving teacher, sometimes a scribe and a French to English translator, a savage, wild woman and general commentator, an open-minded philosophiser of life and events, a talker and a listener, if you will… I am obviously so much more and, at times, expressedly less than can be quantified and grasped in a few words here… Maybe one day you’ll be able to find your own definitions and boxes for me to gleefully colour outside of the lines from.

There have been several instances of I and my creations, some are certainly more persistent than others. Yet since 2012, when relating to creations penned by Natacha Neveu they have mostly, loosely, somewhat haphazardly been grouped together in places named The Sorting House across varying platforms.

Back then, I briefly lived in an old postal office converted into residential apartments called The Sorting House in the Northern Quarter of Manchester, England. Not only was I situated in The Sorting House itself, but I liked this name for a blog about things and the sorting of them. It made sense to me for what I wanted to put out and it stuck.

Sure, that first instance of The Sorting House blog was superficial, obviously because I was very much superficial too. I wrote about conforming to the standards of our twisted society, albeit creatively through miniature art painted on my nails and wordy renditions about trite things like bargains, deals and reviews for trash consumer products that just polluted myself and the planet.

Thankfully, that blog didn’t last long. After years of participating actively in the charade that is the synthetic beauty standards imposed on women and society at large, I began to see the physical effects on my health. Creating daily art that involved toxic chemicals slathered on absorptive tissues of a body that, like most, was already dealing with toxic overload was the straw that broke the camel’s back. My body understandably, and quite thankfully rebelled and I decided to pack it all in. Many moons and tides turned since then, busy working for others, licking my wounds and healing myself, it had probably been quite some time that I’d had the burning desire to create anew.

To record varying combinations of letters ensemble to form words and sentences that convey, in some way, the experience that I’m having here as a human being. A woman marrying the feminine and masculine principles within, alchemising the duality, intrigued by the paradox and learning to appreciate what makes me especially diverse amongst our much-needed natural unity. Acclaim has never truly been the driving motivation behind anything I do. Nevertheless, I always loved the idea that someone could find my intimately organised letters and sometimes scattered thoughts interesting or useful in some kind of way.

The type of mechanisms that I experience make the self-imposed responsibility and illusory permanence of it all seem rather daunting, which is why I mostly gravitated to the apparently convenient, fleeting nature of publishing my opinions on social media. An intricately designed place where we are mostly herded along with the trending movements and the approved narratives. An interesting yet gaudy space of good-looking, thinly-veiled autocracy. A place where one who wishes to play the game can very easily be seen, yet so quickly disappear into an ever-flowing ocean of automatic AI and carefully curated control.

Now with all the changes happening in the world, the censorship increasing and my opinions varying more from that of the masses, I feel the need to branch out and leave a written trace somewhere else. To leave some kind of proof that there is another perspective available to that which abounds. Something that actually makes sense, at least to me, in a place where there’s more freedom to be as I please. Regardless of who reads what I put out there, placing thoughts into perceptible places for others, or even myself, to find and ponder later seems like some kind of useful therapy or essential work.

So whether you decide to come along with me, linger a while or pass through briefly, a snapshot of my soul has infused the lines that are found here. Even if I am no longer the same as who wrote them, I am still learning from the energy that came through. Consider it, if you will, an ode to life; an opportunity to cherish the constant evolution possible within the human experience, mine and that of those who have touched my existence and somehow contributed to making me the person I am today. Each important and insignificant instant shared has added to the whole that is.

So I invite you, dear earthly traveller, to peruse my personal time capsule here at The Sorting House. Get cosy-comfortable, comment when appropriate, sign up to stay in touch and remember everything you are experiencing is temporary.

If you’d like to work with me then please do reach out using the form below.

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