I paid the annual fee for my blog this week so thought I'd better start using the damn thing. Every day, in my head, I write several award winning, earth shatteringly insightful posts and draw achingly gorgeous scenes, before failing entirely to commit them to the page. Stories have gone untold and sketchbooks have remained pristine. The things I want to make or tell you, whilst lying awake at night or during my daily stumble up the valley, evaporate with the morning light or as soon as I sit at my table.
Yesterday on my icy walk I suddenly thought that part of what stops me writing or drawing is the pressure I put on myself for it to be "good enough" to share, when really this blog could just be a kind of wordy sketchbook; it's not as if I'm writing an article for the Guardian is it. I think these past months have made me think of all the people whose stories are lost, all the words unsaid and moments unshared because of the pandemic. What are we if we don't tell our stories, however ordinary they seem?
Having failed at all other "lockdown" tasks my aim for the next few weeks is to share an image and a few lines everyday instead of waiting for perfection. Hopefully this might reawaken the fat, lazy muse who has clearly been asleep, clutching an empty bottle of Sherry for most of 2020 (who can be blamed for that though).

... That first paragraph took several hours of yesterday and this morning, full of good intention, I was going to fix my heat press, restock the virtual shop shelves, wish my parents good luck for their vaccinations tomorrow and then tell you all the about the Long Tailed Tits in the Hawthorne tree on the edge of the fell (such joy and fluttering), the creaking crunch of the ice and oh, all sorts of other stuff you might have liked.
Anyway, I'd just got the heat press soldered without setting fire to my hair and everything was going ok but then I got an e-mail.
It's happening all over again, we're being evicted, they're drawing up the papers. Perhaps because they don't want to spend money fixing the leaking windows and providing us with drinkable water, perhaps because they want somewhere to stay while they fix up their neglected cottage next door, perhaps because the Lakes seems like a better place to live in a pandemic than a flat in Mayfair or an Arts and Crafts Mansion in Wales. Either way the timing and the wording of the e-mail is spectacularly bad; the failure to properly fulfil their obligations would be almost laughable if it hadn't left us desperately scouring Rightmove in the middle of a national disaster.

I don't want to be the voice of gloom, I want to write about the patterns in the ice, look for the snowdrops under the fallen leaves, work, do something useful for other people, hunker down and try to stay sane but it knocks the breath from you and makes your arms tingle, too much Cortisol like coming up on a bad pill (apparently). Maybe all I can do is talk about it so that other people know that this happens, it keeps on happening; hopefully one day things will change for tenants so that landlords and estate agents properly understand the importance of "Home" - not "It has been very useful having an income from the barn" (around £50,000 over the years, to spend on doing up next door)
I saw it coming but the impact still hurts, it makes me want to give up art and volunteer for Shelter.

Enough. The fire is on, Nutmeg is sleeping at full stretch and I have a LUSH bath planned. Change is good right?
Stay safe x

The frantic business of September, with all its overlapping exhibitions, drawing deadlines and Very Important Birthdays, is over and here I am on the first day of October, thinking about what to write while the new kitten fights sleep on my knee. Looking back I realise that I didn't write anything during September and the excuse for this is the fact that, with Cumbria Printmakers and Craftsmen at the Priory, there seemed to be almost continuous exhibitions happening somewhere and although the initial deadline for finishing my Ugly Duckling illustration project was September 13th, I had to extend it a little following the loss of my sketchbook and the week long migraine that followed. Then about 3 weeks ago this happened ...  

My son arrived one evening with a tiny wobbly monster who was barely able to get up the stairs .This cute, gift kitten has somehow been replaced by a large, spikey tiger with a ravenous appetite and dubious bathroom habits, in the blink of an eye. It's a full time job. We call her Nutmeg but more often her name is unrepeatable in polite company. As write she is kneading my jumper with needle claws and purring like an engine; it's good have company in the lonely barn again even if my legs look like I've been rolling in brambles and Rupert says I look like Action Man with the scratch on my face! 

Early in September as I was busy drawing ducks and swans and worrying about whether it was all looking ok and was "good enough", the bookshop had organised an event with the writer and illustrator Jackie Morris. I'm sure Grasmere must have been full of lots of extra lovely people that day because I was working in the bookshop and sold more of my cards than usual and had some really nice conversations about mutually admired artists and makers. Anyway, the evening event was very interesting and inspiring because Jackie spoke about how she had been told many times at school and later at art college, that she wasn't "good enough", that art wasn't a real job you could live from and so on, only to go on to be one of the most recognised and loved illustrators working today. She spoke about The Lost Words, working with Robert Macfarlane, and how the book has taken on a life of it's own in schools, hospitals and care homes, inspiring memories in older people and a new discovery of nature in the young. For me the admission that she didn't really know "how" to illustrate a book when she first started out, making it up as she went along, but also didn't really know what else to be, was very cheering as I wrestled with self doubt and worried about ducks. Could my Ugly Duckling become a swan? 

Jackie Morris paints an otter in Grasmere whilst reciting a spell by Robert Macfarlane. 

I feel as though I gained a lot of much needed confidence from my first experience of working as a real illustrator, working to a brief and getting paid! I know I could have finished on time if only I hadn't been robbed in Lanercost and as it turned out I was only a week late so I beat Crossrail, with justifiable delays! The Line and Verse exhibition in Grasmere was also really good for me with several sales and work is currently still on show at Upfront Arts Venue in Unthank, near Penrith. But for a moment I can indulge in a few lazy days, think about what I've learned and plan what comes next. 

The main event of September probably deserves a whole blog post of its own and I'm conscious that as usual I'm trying to play catch up and not doing justice to all the things I want to talk about. Last week I was in London with all my family to celebrate my father, William Tillyer's 80th birthday ...

[facebook url="https://www.facebook.com/WilliamTillyer/videos/2203301593327533/" /]

Film for BBC Look North by Sharuna Sagar.

We had a wonderful time, wandering around the Chelsea Physic Garden, having supper at the Chelsea Arts Club, testing out £1330 chairs at the Conran Shop, fighting our way on to tubes to get to the exhibition opening at Bernard Jacobson Gallery and generally enjoying some rare family time. The birthday party at the gallery also marked the opening of the fabulous exhibition of The Golden Striker and Esk Paintings and felt particularly wonderful in contrast to the Radical Vision opening in January when, unknown to most people, he was in the middle of chemotherapy and really not well. I'm sure he will hate me sharing this but the huge, imposing and beautiful painting at the centre of this new exhibition has been largely completed whilst undergoing chemo and dealing with it's after effects, visiting the studio daily and working alone without assistants (unlike many of his celebrated contemporaries).  I find this hugely inspiring and not a little daunting - how can I possibly live my life so single-mindedly and with such courage and determination?!

Flowers designed by The Mighty Quinn Flower Emporium in Bristol as a response to the Golden Striker painting. A gift from Sara to her Grandad. 

Bernard Jacobson, the gallery owner, has written a new book entitled "William Tillyer, The loneliness of the long distance runner", it's part memoir, part biography, part imagined odyssey.  I can't tell you how weird it is to read, having been part of the story, at least for the last 51 years. Again, it deserves a whole blog post and a careful review, maybe from someone more qualified and less involved,  but here is a bit I really liked...

"Hockney recording nature is like Paul McCartney writing opera. Tillyer recording nature is like John Clare recording nature. . Hockney's nature reflects back the colour supplements , Tillyer's is a Modernist mirror of Nature itself."

Well now, here at the bottom of the mountain it's time to return to my own search for a bit of creative fulfilment and also time to put on another jumper as I've got cold sitting here writing this. I'm making these boxes for some events taking place in November and also thinking about some new work for exhibitions early next year. I need to update the website shop and go outside for some air and exercise too... but first coffee!  

new adventures await...

Reading:  Killing Commendatore - Haruki Murakami  

I'm under my special blanket, by the stove, wrapped in 117 woollen squares knitted by my Great Grandma for my parent's wedding in 1962 (which turned out to be a famously cold winter so I'm sure it was welcomed). I've been watching the snow covered mountain tops, behind the house, turn all shades of rosy, sugared almond pink, against a sky of ice blue, as the sun set; wishing I'd timed my short walk up the valley better and knew more about camera settings. Never mind, I did that thing we should all do more of and just looked and said "ooooh" and was "present in the moment". Now night has fallen, the cat is snoring and my fingers have just about thawed out enough to type...but I feel a bit stuck if I'm honest. The pressure to maintain an upbeat public persona and maintain a stiff upper lip in times of adversity can be stifling (and dishonest in my opinion). Nobody wants even more gloom in the gloomiest month of the year but, for the record, 2018 so far has been ... difficult. I'm fully prepared to be optimistic , it would just be nice to have a little balance for a change, a "good news, bad news" situation instead of a general trend towards worry, jumping when the phone rings and eating way too much rice pudding as comfort food. Anyway, here is a seasonal antidote, something really fun and absorbing that I found yesterday on the Makelight website. Emily Quinton and her husband Stef have developed an app. called #YearOfColour which extracts the colours from your Instagram pictures and creates really interesting palettes of colour, grouped according to popularity, time of year and so on. I found it fascinating and surprising to see the results for Witchmountain (where did all that sandy beige come from?!) and it's a really useful design tool.I've been tempted to do one of Emily's online photography courses so that next time I won't miss catching the mountain glow.In the meantime I tried to take advantage of some beautiful winter sunlight today to take a few pictures of prints which have recently come back from an exhibition in Keswick and need to be listed on my website. I noticed an ancient, painted over nail on the porch of the cottage next door so I made a little outdoor gallery and wrestled with reflections. What a beautiful afternoon though; the kind of air that feels like a cool drink and signs of spring everywhere. The exhibition had been in Keswick's Theatre by the Lake and it was encouraging  to receive a few website sales this month, from people who had seen work there.The bumpy start to the year and my decision not to do British Craft Trade Fair has left me feeling as though I'm drifting a bit but that's not always a bad thing... who knows what opportunities and inspirations will be found wherever  that current takes me.I mentioned the Dream, Plan, Do journal in my last post and last week I made a start on the first sections of the book which aim "to help you focus on your vision, future and values." So here's a confession... I couldn't do it. I felt intimidated by my apparent lack of focus and clear direction after nearly 10 years of being "Witchmountain" but most of all I was unable to contemplate the question " How old will you be in 2030, how about your parents, children, partner?". As I say, it's been difficult lately (the stuff that makes us human - love, loss, ageing ...you don't need to know the details) and I still have't got used to being 50 let alone been able to imagine being 62! To cut a long story short I closed the book, retreated into another good story (The Night Circus) and decided to peek warily at the Facebook group that runs along side the planner instead. And here is why it's sometimes ok to admit when things are crappy and your life isn't looking like a styled Instagram shot; because it turned out I wasn't alone. Loads of other people were saying the same things or asking similar questions, dealing with all sorts of bad stuff and supporting each other. Encouragement and understanding and practical solutions abound in groups like that, and yes, you can end up spending too much time Dreaming and not enough time Doing if you're not careful, but I picked the planner up again and didn't feel quite so alone (so thanks Patricia and the Dream,Plan,Do team). I got a similar feeling to the one I got last summer, packing up after Art in the Pen, which was that I was slightly awestruck by the resilience and determination of so many creative people who are usually juggling all sorts of plates, some with jagged edges, and without those people the world really would be eternally January.In other news I gave away a lovely original hare print last month as part of my Newsletter Subscribers Draw and this month there will be another (nice) surprise for somebody so do subscribe if you haven't already (and tell all your friends). I'm also going to be doing lots of other random giveaways throughout the year as part of my celebration of 10 years of writing this blog.The little paper houses in the picture above are a FREE pdf download on my website in the Cards section of the shop where, should you be in the market for one, you could also find some perfect cards for Valentines Day ;)Enough sales talk, I'm off to stitch tiny cross stitches into paper whilst watching whodunnits on Netflix.One final thing about that planner...I haven't reached the page yet but I've gathered that people have to choose a keyword for the year. I have come up with two (because I fancy being self indulgent) they are RESILIENCE and CONNECTION, I don't think you can have the first without the second so this is the year I want to spend more time with the people I care about, keep in touch with old friends and building connections with new ones. If you're reading this then that includes you. Thank you xReading: "The Mitford Murders" Jessica Fellowes. Listening To : "How to Stop Time" Matt Haig ( on Audible) and "Charlotte Anne" Julian Cope SaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSave