Are you there? Are you ok? Does it feel as though you're watching a film of your own life in fast forward?I've been looking through photos taken since February, to decorate this blog post, with a feeling of weird detachment and disbelief; how fast the year has unravelled and how momentous the world events, that make it almost impossible to gather enough sensible thoughts to write. I've resisted writing so far because almost as soon as I contemplate a quiet moment sharing the joy of the spring blossom or the scent of the Lilacs or a "thing I made", I'm struck dumb by the fear and confusion and anger in The News that makes a blog like this seem trivial and ridiculous. Apart from Covid -19 there have been the Black Lives Matter protests and the toppling of Mr.C the slave trader, into the harbour in Bristol, which has made me want to keep quiet and educate myself. I'm learning what I thought I already knew, getting confused, questioning everything, feeling very aware that despite believing myself to be "not a racist" that isn't necessarily enough. Nor is wearing a t-shirt with a slogan but this arrived today via Print Social, designed by printmaker Rachel Louise Hibbs with 100% of the profit going to Show Racism the Red Card. So I'm looking stylish while I try to be a better human!
Meanwhile here in the mountains lockdown crumbled like a sandcastle in an incoming tide and I look back at this photo of the endless blue days of spring with a strange nostalgia that belies the real fear that was keeping us all awake. Those blossoms are now hard green sloes on rampant, windblown hedgerows, dripping with dog rose, honeysuckle and meadowsweet, promising a nice crop for gin in time for Christmas. Everything is deeply green and shady around the house, dripping rain and aphid honeydew like a rainforest. I planted loads of seeds to feed us during the apocalypse - beans, peas, salads in pots, only to succeed in producing a huge crop of enormous snails. I'm the queen of snail farming, I'm also vegetarian so don't suggest I eat them instead of courgette.People are back in the Lakes all of a sudden, as if its a normal summer and I'm finding it all especially unsettling as, unlike Rupert and Sara who started escaping as soon as they were allowed, I've only been out about 5 times since March (my 17 year old car finally gave up the ghost in April so I couldn't flit if I'd had anywhere to go). Now I'm having to re-engage with Outside and hopefully a smooth return to work in the bookshop.
I just looked back to see when I last wrote anything and realised it was so long ago that there isn't even a mention of the pandemic! That month included two interviews for magazines and a potential feature on Countryfile which was due to be filmed in March at Rydal Mount, around the time of the Wordsworth 250th anniversary celebrations. I can't help feeling that it's entirely in keeping with my life's progress that I got what could have been my Big Break, just as the world went mad and even the news was broadcast by people in their living rooms, juggling child care, lockdown hair and dodgy internet connection. Anyway, the magazines got printed and it felt lovely and flattering and a bit unlikely.I'd have hated being on film anyway but the researcher was very nice.
Since ALL my events have now been cancelled (the last two just announced this week) it's been a scramble to try and make up for that with website sales and thinking about different ways of working. Last weekend I took part in an Online Show which replaced Crafted by Hand in Masham. It went ok and it might be the way forward, but how to do this without turning people off? Many of us will struggle financially due to the effects of this crisis and I hate doing the hard sell at the best of times.I wanted and intended to do all sorts of helpful and altruistic things with my art during lockdown but the fact is, the truth is, like a lot of people I struggled to concentrate on anything creative, I felt guilty about living in a beautiful place with space and fresh air so I didn't even want to share photos and obviously there were personal fears and worries too. I'm taking it gently, trying to recognise that it's pretty normal that anxiety bubbles up in odd ways because none of us have ever had to deal with this kind of thing before. I'm not even sure I can remember how to drive, everything seems much too fast and noisy and crossing the street in a suddenly packed Grasmere yesterday made me want to scurry back to my nest, back to April when we drifted about from one cup of tea to the next, watching the garden begin to unfurl, writing our journals like characters in a play.
Theres a new book being published next month called "Through the Locking Glass" which is about the artists and writers of Cumbria responding to lockdown. I made a cyanotype and stitch piece which was included in the book and was one of the few things I did during that time. As things began to ease I suddenly decided to have a go at something completely different ...
... My daughter took me (she's my chauffeur now) to visit a lovely friend, Janis Young, from Cumbria Printmakers who lent me an Xcut XPress . Originally designed as a hobbyist's die cutting machine it happens to work perfectly as a mini etching press. I was smitten and managed to buy myself one; now I just need to work out how to carry on improving on the beginners luck I had when I first tried it. I'm the messiest printmaker, ink on every surface and also my own worst critic, but sometimes I accidentally make something that I'm so pleased with it doesn't really feel as though I can have made it ( do you ever get that?) Here is Bookshop Bear, a card design with some additional yellows splodges, from a collagraph printed on the Xcut. He wants to be part of a story but that's still in the clouds.
So, there you have it, a brief round up with large gaps and omissions (the joyous birthdays, the tears and laughter, unfinished jigsaws and abandoned projects, the sleepless nights of worry, the olive branch messages sent to much missed friends that went unanswered, the realisation that Time is relentless, the survivors guilt...)I hope you are safe and warm and well and that everything will be ok.xReading: I'm in between books, dipping in and out of things, listening to Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell which is excellent and weirdly topical and also listening to Black and British by David Olusoga which should be a set text in schools, what weren't we taught this?!
Theres a new book being published next month called "Through the Locking Glass" which is about the artists and writers of Cumbria responding to lockdown. I made a cyanotype and stitch piece which was included in the book and was one of the few things I did during that time. As things began to ease I suddenly decided to have a go at something completely different ...... My daughter took me (she's my chauffeur now) to visit a lovely friend, Janis Young, from Cumbria Printmakers who lent me an Xcut XPress . Originally designed as a hobbyist's die cutting machine it happens to work perfectly as a mini etching press. I was smitten and managed to buy myself one; now I just need to work out how to carry on improving on the beginners luck I had when I first tried it. I'm the messiest printmaker, ink on every surface and also my own worst critic, but sometimes I accidentally make something that I'm so pleased with it doesn't really feel as though I can have made it ( do you ever get that?) Here is Bookshop Bear, a card design with some additional yellows splodges, from a collagraph printed on the Xcut. He wants to be part of a story but that's still in the clouds.So, there you have it, a brief round up with large gaps and omissions (the joyous birthdays, the tears and laughter, unfinished jigsaws and abandoned projects, the sleepless nights of worry, the olive branch messages sent to much missed friends that went unanswered, the realisation that Time is relentless, the survivors guilt...)I hope you are safe and warm and well and that everything will be ok.xReading: I'm in between books, dipping in and out of things, listening to Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell which is excellent and weirdly topical and also listening to Black and British by David Olusoga which should be a set text in schools, what weren't we taught this?!
You could follow the arrow that says "Starling Dodd" and find "Witchmountain" there in the trees; the last house on the mountain and goodness it's really felt like it lately - the last house on the way up but the first for the wind to hammer as it crashes down the valley. The outline of these hills has always made me think of sleeping dragons and I think one woke up during those Named Storms, it wasn't happy to be disturbed. Part of the lane has washed away and various bits of the house leaked - are leaking- (because as I mentioned last time, this is a Jumblie's Sieve kind of a place) but it's quiet now, the heating boiler is fixed and I'm trying to be less like Bill Nighy's Mr Woodhouse in Emma, constantly anxious about draughts.The picture above was taken from the top of Catbells last weekend. We set out in brightness and blue sky, with packed lunch and flasks of hot Ribena, only to be ambushed by vicious hail storms which I'm hoping will have the same effect as an expensive microdermabrasion treatment. The snowdrops are still hanging in there, leggy and battered but it's nearly daffodil time and hopefully a there's a gentle Spring on the way for all those places so badly affected by the floods.Now that I've talked about the weather I have to try and order my thoughts; what to say? What to leave out? What to paint a brighter shade so that I sound like a misery? I think a lot about writing (when I'm not writing) and art (when I'm not ... doing it) and what I think, often, is that anyone who tries to make a living by their imagination and creativity, or even just lets their words or images out into the wild with no thought of financial gain, is pretty damn brave, or crazy, because there are Other People out there and they have Opinions. I remember thinking this when I went to a book event in London a while ago, the brave and fearless authors who'd spent months alone with their writing, had to come out before a crowd to pitch their books to us (the booksellers) and then there would be critics, then sales figures and then the pot holed path towards a new book. It's the same for all artists who make a thing in private and then offer it up like a slippery newborn for inspection. You don't get to just go home, switch off and watch Eastenders after a day at work, it's always there, it is you.
If that all sounds a bit too heavy and serious it's only because I'm in a thinking mood after I was interviewed this week by a lovely woman from a local magazine. Little old me in my studio (for studio read kitchen table). I've never been interviewed in person about my work before, so of course I felt like an utter fraud, a slightly batty hermit; naturally the cat popped in and out with a dead vole and true to form I rambled, over shared (possibly) and only remembered what I should have said after she'd gone. I'll let you know if it makes the editorial cut, I hope so despite my shyness.So what should I have said? What is the right way to behave? Up sell, up speak and always look in control? You see I still feel as though some honesty is vital. What use is it to anyone if the picture of "life up a mountain making art" is airbrushed in such a way that other people misunderstand and possibly fall down the same pot holes, I have a duty to put metaphorical cones out!What's real today...*It took me 3 hours to light the fire so I've done no creative work , have a coal dust moustache and if there's a power cut we're stuffed because I used all the candles (ran out of fire lighters)*I'm realising that because my prints take ages to make I sell them too cheaply.*Sometimes I just want to read a book and eat crumpets instead.*Self promotion is so hard and feels like being everything you were brought up not to be.
Anyway, that's the end of the soul searching section, except to say that while I was talking to Ellie I realised that I became most passionate whilst talking about other people's work and businesses, it definitely feels more comfortable. We also talked about the solitude needed, in my case at least, to come up with ideas and inspiration, but that doesn't mean isolation. The support of (and for) others is vital. This week although I've seen no one I've felt absolutely lifted and supported by my slowly growing network of creative friends who all face similar days when the fire (literal or creative) won't light and their muse has gone missing. You're all amazing.
Hey look! I did a mug shot! This is so rare and I'm squirming a bit but here I am, only a slightly airbrushed startled rabbit. The finished "big" versions of The Ugly Duckling and The Secret Garden which I'd done for Elspeth Tavacci arrived the other week. Elspeth is working on making a version of The Secret Garden which will work as one of her, 
This was one of my favourite pages ...
Anyway, I have just 5 copies but I could spare one, so I thought maybe I could do a giveaway like I used to in the Olden Blog Days? Is that still a thing? To enter just visit my 
Reading : "Here in the Real World" by Sara Pennypacker. I love a good children's book and this one - admittedly chosen at first for its cover by 
Cinnamon toast and a large mug of tea by the stove are my fuel for this bit of writing. It's the last day of British Summer Time and at 4pm the fading light means I'm allowed to indulge my bear like nature doesn't it? My nest is cozy; everything outside is leaning slightly to the right, to North, shaped by the prevailing wind that funnels down this valley. Leaves race past and collect in drifts or scratch at the window like Catherine Earnshaw's ghost. I made myself go outside though, before building my den and I galloped down the valley in my clumpy boots with unbrushed hair, chased by swirling mist that poured through the gap on Robinson like milk. I should have taken a picture for you , I wish I could have painted it. Yesterday by contrast, was a day of such sparkling champagne light that it hardly seems like the same country !
Rupert is on an adventure in the Himalayas so I'm having to be extra self- motivated when it comes to my own outdoor adventures. Yesterday was easy, I packed a picnic, flask of strong coffee, my wetsuit and a sketchbook and set off to Scales Hill, Crummock Water because I'm greedy and I wanted Autumn trees, smooth swimmable water and mountain views ( all without having to walk uphill with a heavy rucksack). I walked and looked and breathed and braved a tiny dip (longer getting in and out of the wetsuit than in the water). I swam in little circles, using fallen leaves floating on the glassy surface as my markers, edging away from the shallows and trying not to think of the Great Deep; I wanted to float on my back to watch the clouds but October lake water in the ears isn't nice and after the cold water hives thing at Rydal in the "summer" I'm very careful. After my swim I sat on the pebbly beach eating sandwiches, looking across at the boat house with Grasmoor looking enormous behind it and wondered if I would ever dare swim that far; then feeling that I should be less hard on myself because I may not be a long distance swimmer or a Himalayan adventurer but after all I have been up Grasmoor the hard way and been brave enough to get in to a bottomless lake, on my own in October.Walking back to the car through the woods I suddenly thought, look at me, in all my outdoor gear, what's happened?! Who am I? And then I saw my shadow and it was ok because as you can see, I'm actually still a bear...
Things have started to feel good in the work department, dare I say that? The exhibition n Grasmere was disappointingly quiet but I sold a print and made some good contacts, while the Exhibition in Shetland at Bonhoga Gallery ( part of Shetland Arts) has already resulted in sales and lots of lovely comments online. The gallery is really beautiful and I'd never seen my work displayed so well... in that it was given space and light and not lost amongst all the other work, I felt like a real artist ( in times like these most independent shops and galleries need to use all their available wall and display space to maximise potential sales, so space, as in all things, is a luxury). It is interesting that almost all my online sales and commissions recently have come from Scotland and the Islands in particular; perhaps my love of the idea of North, however vague, really does come out in the work somehow?
The gallery staff at Bonhoga took this photograph of a hare lamp which made me very happy because I'd never actually seen one illuminated before and it does have an etherial, wintery feel to it whilst still feeling warm and cozy.
I've also been having some wonderful days in the bookshop in Grasmere; filling in on odd days and trying to avoid buying ALL the books. They are long days, especially with the drive, but so unlike any other work I've done in retail. Being in Grasmere there are some parts of it that are fairly unique, such as the customers wanting to know the best route up Helvellyn on a wet, foggy day, but there is a joy in solving a mystery for the person who says " I don't know the title or the author but..." or seeing all the kids during half term so keen to read real books, even in an age of Tablets and Kindles. Still, my book addiction needs to be controlled; I felt so guilty about spending money on a beautiful new 
Now it is 6pm and the sky has changed through shades of bruise, made pastel by the low mist. There must have been a great sunset somewhere higher up but here it reminded me of paint water- I had to leave you for a moment to stand on the doorstep in the eerie warm wind. Anyway, it's taken me two hours to cobble this together, not counting the bits when I got up to put a log on the stove or put some supper in the oven. It's time to draw the curtains against the night.
Reading: Hag Seed- Margaret Atwood Listening to: The Book of Dust - Phillip Pullman (unabridged version) and ( in the car) Blue Aeroplanes "