"Nourish yourself with grand and austere ideas of beauty that feed the soul… Seek solitude,” Delacroix. I've been wondering what exactly is keeping me from writing more frequently....or making new work for that matter and I can only assume it must be that I now have company in my rural idyll. Solitude is important to many creative people and even though I still have loads of time to myself, only work part time in the day job and have my own small space to retreat to, the balance has shifted now that Rupert is also living and working here. I'm spending less time wandering lonely as a cloud and more time going on mini adventures together after work; more importantly for the writing of this blog, I'm not sitting up all night drinking shed loads of coffee alone with the radio (actually its never been the same since Guy Garvey's Finest Hour got moved to daytime; I blame the BBC). I must find a new routine and the discipline to go with it because the reality of living in a draughty barn is that it's much nicer when there's company.
Daily routine and self motivation when you're self employed is a subject that fascinates me because to the outside world it can look like you're doing nothing and achieving even less... the idea of "working from home" often being a euphemism for laziness or sitting around in your pyjamas. I enjoyed the series of essays in the Guardian called "My Writing Day" which gave an insight into how successful writers actually get stuff done. In contrast my writing "day" means I uploaded the pictures for this post last week, started writing it, got distracted, had to go to work, had house guests and now a week later I have spent most of today looking at the rain, sorting old clothes for the charity shop, half starting an order for a gallery and suddenly deciding to spring clean the bathroom while my computer sits forlorn and resentful next to a pile of neatly cut out prints and calico squares for covering notebooks ( I am dressed though). I assume I'm not alone in behaving like this but it's hard to tell when you're halfway up a mountain and only have social media to compare notes with.
The summer seems to be flying by and some of the exhibitions I've been showing work in are almost over before I've had a chance to tell you about them. Despite all that I lost when I was forced to move I have to admit that this year has opened up so many opportunities for me. Until early September you can find these two pieces (and more) in the Byard Gallery, opposite Kings College in Cambridge! (when I was small I once accompanied my dad on a day trip to Cambridge where he was showing work at the Hobson Gallery; I remember telling him I planned to go to Cambridge, meaning the University of course but this almost makes up for my turning out to be more of a drop out than a high flyer!). There are also prints and jewellery in the Leeds Craft and Design Centre, cards and notebooks in the Leaping Hare Gallery, Easingwold and of course Cherrydidi in Keswick who have a small selection of eveything.
A couple of weeks ago I ran my second cyanotype workshop at the Greystoke Cycle Cafe. I have to admit I was dreading it as the forecast was for horrible weather and the forecast was right, it was dark and wet. In the end though, and looking back, I really enjoyed it- and so did they I hope. We managed to make loads of really lovely prints even in low light and with only a very small exposure unit between eight people; braving the weather to rinse prints under a gazebo with a hosepipe. Sometimes it feels a bit mad to be telling people how you make your work but it's been so satisfying to have students get in touch with images of things they've made since the course and know that they were inspired and excited by what they learnt. One of my students was an artist called Tracey Escolme who makes paper cuts, she is part of next month's C-Art if you are in Cumbria during September. A few people have asked if I'm doing any more courses and I'm hoping Annie will ask me back next summer; I'm also thinking about maybe doing some small half days here (mostly as an excuse to make coffee and cake) so do get in touch if you'd like to be added to a possible list of participants.
Have you noticed how I've been really good and not mentioned swimming? Well I have to just a little because I was pretty brave the other day and swam with Rupert to a little island on Derwent Water called Otterbield Island. Its not far and I won't be qualifying for the Olympics but it was a small breakthrough in distance and conquering fear- the vertigo of swimming in bottomless dark water. I felt a bit tired and slightly panicky at one point and had to rest on my tow float (I got it for this reason because it allows me a moment to pause and have a word with myself as well as making sure the launch doesn't run us down) but the water was mirror smooth and the evening was perfect, sunset and moonrise and "Nightswimming" by REM in my head. I also had a fun swim in the River Avon at Lacock Abbey in Wiltshire, with my daughter recently... very different to Lake swimming and one of the best days I've had for ages.; a miniature holiday that felt very special.
Anyway, the day today is not conducive to swimming today and it's almost time for tea so I'm going to do a spot of baking and build some extra layers of insulating blubber for my next outing! Here is a rare self portrait of me pondering solitude and creativity by the water a few weeks ago.Reading:- "The Gap of Time" Jeanette Winterson Listening To:- Nightswimming REM
Today is suddenly September; the year has clicked smoothly into another gear, my lovely family have all returned to their distant homes, the Bank Holiday crowds have left until next season, somewhere in North Yorkshire the swallows will be gathering on the wires above my old home and I'm here, alone again, drinking green tea in the last house on the mountain.My daughter took these pictures on an idyllic evening walk around Crummock Water on Sunday evening. I'd never been to that side of the Lake and it felt so magical to be looking at a familiar view from a different angle and most of all to be sharing it with people I love. We made tea with the Kelly Kettle and ate a hastily prepared picnic of homemade cheese focaccia and peach cake while Terrible Grasmoor lit up pink in the sunset. There is something about the living in the Lake District that makes you want to be out exploring in a way I never really felt before. The North York Moors were "Home" and the landscape was beautiful but I was always quite happy mostly admiring it from the garden. Now what is it about wanting to get to the top, for no other reason than to look back down? Each Fell now labeled with the memory of the day it was climbed, the summit picnics and the names listed like a poem... Silver How, Helm Crag, Fleetwith Pike, Maiden Moor....
So, I have TWO exhibitions coming up and the table is covered with half finished things, labels, prints to be stitched, cellophane to battle with, price lists to write and as well as this I'm being whisked away on a train to Italy in a few days! The surprise trip was perfectly timed to celebrate (or distract me) since it will soon be a year since my evil neighbour stopped me in the supermarket to tell me I was losing my home. Its odd to think that this time last year I was planting autumn onions and garlic, picking the last strawberries and watching the swallows gather for the final time, with no idea what was about to happen... I suppose this is what life is and why you have to make the most of every moment, good and bad.
Anyway, this is one of the images I'm using to make some new cushions with the help of lovely Emma from Temporary Measure while the one below is a framed piece that will be at The Great Print Exhibition at the Rheged Centre near Penrith until November. Meanwhile Cumbria Printmakers C-Art Exhibition opens at Dalemain House, near Ullswater on September 12th. My work will be there but sadly I'll be away so please go if you can and let me know how it looks. There are loads of amazing printmakers taking part, all with links to Cumbria and I just hope my work stands up along side theirs and I don't feel too much like an imposter !
Well, it's almost time to go to bed. Tomorrow I'm doing my morning at the Calvert Trust Riding Centre, getting my weekly pony fix and feeling inspired by the wonderful work they do there. Its going to be a busy few days but hopefully there'll be time to look at the sky a bit and daydream.
Reading:- not enough! Listening To :- Underworld and REM and the fan on my computer going in to overload when I try to do anything on Photoshop
More time has flown by; faster than I have been able to write it all down, blurring one day in to another. Six months have passed since I came to live in the mountains; months marked by the changing colours of the fells- monochrome snow scenes melting to become Bracken slopes of Caput Mortuum and now dark lush Hooker's Green with bright Magenta spikes of Foxglove... oh and the more or less constant rain. August feels a bit too jungly for me, the Bracken could hide anything and the patch outside the big window has become heavily shaded by Sycamore and carpeted with Enchanter's Nightshade (which is apparently used in binding spells to keep precious things close).Nothing stays still for very long here, except the sleeping dragons in Newlands Valley- the fells themselves. The hills are full of people rushing about doing energetic things in lycra but always, even in the busiest season, there is the magic of being able to flop down on the mossy grass at the top and look at the view as if you're the first to have ever seen it.In the past two weeks we've been on two lovely adventures... up Eagle Crag and then the strangely named Wandope .I don't seem to be getting any better at the uphill bits... after about an hour my legs finally warm up and stop aching just in time for my feet to start complaining. I really admire people who can run about doing things like the Bob Graham Round (they often come pounding past here in the dark with minutes to spare as this is the last mountain on the round) but I'm still fundamentally a tortoise and prefer to dawdle along admiring the flowers, sniffing the sappy pine cones, filling my pockets with Bog Myrtle, making wands out of rushes and only making it to the top because of the promise of sandwiches. 
And before you think this has turned into a blog about hiking, here is what I've been up to for most of the week, when Rupert isn't here to leave a trail of crumbs up steep mountain paths. I'm trying to get work together for the Dalemain House exhibition so I was pleased when a woman admired my work in the gallery the other week. Not realising it was mine, she asked about the technique and came in again a few days later, with a framer, who offered to frame a piece for free to see what I thought. He made a lovely job of it and chose a frame I would never have picked for myself; now I just have to save up to get some more done and hope that the gamble pays off because obviously I need to sell them to justify the whole endeavour. Working in galleries certainly gives you an insight into what sells, if not the ability or desire to produce it. On several occasions it's been obvious that the customer is really looking for an investment rather than buying for love and its not just the artist's name that matters but the medium they use. Why is it that oils are seen as superior to watercolours or a ceramic sculpture more highly valued than say, a needle felted one? 
I've been stitching into the recent cyanotype prints I've made since moving here. The work represents ideas of home and security, impermanence and the need for shelter- from nests to ivory towers; stitching into the paper represents domesticity and also safety and healing... holding things together with stitches. There ... do I sound all arty and conceptual?! Meanwhile some new greetings cards arrived and a piece of fabric from Spoonflower,to make purses ... (this one was a birthday gift for Ruth who has been very kind to me since I admired her trousers for not being beige walking trousers when she came in to the gallery one day. She runs this guest house which you might want to stay in if you visit Keswick) 
Now it's time to have a last cup of tea before bed and make sure the place looks tidy and loved because the landlord is coming round in the morning to discuss the howling gales that blow up your trouser legs in the kitchen... I need to be in the right frame of mind and not the angry defensive bundle of resentment I have become due to my last landlord's jackboot tactics. I will leave you with this view of Borrowdale, lying on my tummy on a flat rock in the sun...well away from the edge, higher than a helicopter and amazed by the ridiculous beauty of it all.
READING: The Slow Mountain Company Blog which is pretty wonderful and "Flora Britanica" by Richard MabeyLISTENING TO: "No Light , No Light" Florence and the Machine