Flight Path

Through the window, in the patch of sky behind the house, I watched the swallows making travel plans this week and, despite my notorious reluctance to leave my nest, I half wished I could join them.. what it must be like to be free to swoop about with all your friends and family, gathering in flocks and murmurations!
The Leaving of the Swallows is another year marker and, like the shortening days, the russeting of bracken and ripening of berries, we remark upon it as if it has never been seen before, not so early surely, not with such colours? September has come too soon, in a year that never really started, but it feels fresh and sparkly compared to August.
As always in September, without marking X's on the calendar, I remember that other September, 6 years ago now, when I  thought I was losing everything. The shock of a sudden and unfair eviction when you are so firmly rooted in a place has long lasting effects and will always leave a scar, like the marks left by Limpets on stone.

Anyway, there is a point to raking all that up again; I promise I'm not just failing to "move on and get over it" (as well meaning people suggested at the time) - although the revenge spells I cast are slow burners . These past few weeks here in the Lakes have been SO unusual that I found myself pondering "How did I get here?".  What part of recent events was brought about by pure chance and would any of these things have happened if I hadn't lost my home and moved to Cumbria?

I've also been remembering this time last year when I was at Moniack Mhor for that unforgettable week of submersion in the world of illustration and picture books, surrounded by wonderful inspiring people, what a place...

I think I mentioned in a previous post that despite my creative inertia, self doubt and of course the pandemic,  it had been a great year for publicity ( some magazine articles and a piece in a book)  and that I'd spent quite a lot of time talking to a lovely man from the BBC. When lockdown happened of course any plans we'd half made were shelved and I must admit I was relieved because for me, just being asked was enough. Imagine my horror when Max contacted me again last month with firm dates for filming.
You might think that someone who's been baring their soul in a blog for the past 11 years would have no problem at all with being filmed for TV but that's the thing isn't it, you can hide behind the keyboard and forget that there's an audience. I started to have flashbacks to the time my brother and I made our primary school class sit through a puppet show we'd asked to do -  because we'd got Sooty and Sweep puppets for Christmas - no script, no plan and a creeping realisation aged 7 that we'd bitten off more than we could chew.

I'd been asked to talk about Anna Atkins and demonstrate cyanotype for a section on BBC Countryfile dedicated to the Grasmere and Langdale area, including  a belated celebration of Wordsworth's 250th birthday. Wordsworth's home in Grasmere, Dove Cottage, has recently reopened and a fabulous structure called the Moss Hut commissioned ( a collaboration between Somewhere-Nowhere and Charlie Whinney) to reimagine the space created by Dorothy and William in their garden, a refuge outdoors, away from the busy cottage, where they could think and create. Dorothy described it as  a ‘little circular hut lined with moss like a wren’s nest’
The new Moss Hut is certainly something special, smelling warmly of oak and nestling in a newly planted sensory garden that will only improve with age.

In the end I managed to convince myself that I was just teaching a small , socially awkward, workshop and both the presenter Joe Crowley and cameraman Chris Greenwood  were lovely - I think it's a real skill to appear genuinely interested in the people you meet and be able to make them feel comfortable. I know I will cringe if I ever watch it, my confidence in my appearance and sense of how I appear to others has suffered a lot in the past few years (this time of change for a woman can be harsh as well as liberating) and I'm definitely not someone who would court such exposure normally. 

During the filming we walked around the garden at Dove Cottage and had a quick lesson from Jane, the gardener, in identifying ferns were told the strange story of Victorian Pteridomania. I must admit, the preparation has helped to re-ignite my interest, not only in cyanotype but also in the lives of Anna Atkins and Dorothy Wordsworth, so it was an honour to take part and be able to try and connect the two through their art, science and the love of observing nature. Meanwhile, in the Lake, my friend Polly Atkin was being filmed in a wetsuit, swimming and reciting poetry, so MUCH braver than me! The episode will be shown on September 27th if you want to see how it turned out for us both!

And so the strangeness of this year and the unlikely events obviously make me think "How the hell did that happen? Would it have happened if I still lived in my haven on the moors?"
I started this blog during my degree course in 2009 so that even though I'm sure no student ever reads it these days I feel it's been important to be honest about the journey. Oddly if I were to follow the trail back I'd say the Countryfile gig owes more to this blog than my actual artwork - writing here, often being more candid than I should have been, was the connection between people who later offered support after I'd landed in Cumbria, working in the bookshop and being part of Cumbria Printmakers connected me to Grasmere so that I was eventually asked to do a workshop at Dove Cottage which I think is how Max the Researcher found me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that little connections can lead to surprising places and that the route can be a winding one with some terrible potholes. I envy people who knew what they wanted to be from A level to retirement but now, aged 53 maybe I'm on a better path.
Thanks for reading x 

Reading:  Piranesi by Susanna Clarke.