Posts tagged Carrock Fell
Unwritten Fairytales and Lost Horizons

I'm blaming my new glasses for the time it has taken me to settle down to write tonight- that and the mountain of pancakes I made (it's Pancake Day here in the UK) even though I'm home alone (banana with maple syrup and whipped cream, mmmmm ). I got new varifocals last week and they make me feel like somebody else; somebody I don't like the look of, who most probably took a large dose of Mescaline or whatever makes the carpet come to life in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas; the floor now ripples in a disconcertingly trippy way! The new frames, which I'd hoped would make me look more à la mode, remind me of my first pair of NHS glasses when I was about 8; the world has a frame around it again and I'm reliving all my childhood hangups about being the kid with glasses.*I just looked up à la mode and it can also mean "topped with ice cream" ...February has been beautiful so far and a little bit of motivation has returned. The late winter snow seems to be an inspiration every year and I've been busy making new things, doing some drawings in my digital sketchbook and going on  small winter adventures. Last week we went up Carrock Fell and, after worrying my way up the steep bit, I lost myself in admiring the scattered diamonds, wind etched snow fields and iced bun rocks. We drank hot tea in a shelter cairn and I  galumphed along following Rupert's footprints on the stumbly trek back down. There was a cloud full of snow behind us, the wind spun powder in to our faces and the snow was up to my knees in places; I couldn't stop thinking of the film Lost Horizon. In the picture above, you can just see the sunbeam hitting a group of trees at Skiddaw House, one of the most remote hostels in the country, miles from any road- perfect spot for an artist's retreat!I've been making new lampshades and making the most of bright days to photograph them- which seems a little back to front. Each one took longer than ever to make as I got carried away with the embroidered details and deciding, after continuing with the exercises in my Dream Plan Do book, that what I enjoy most about my work is making something really special that can sometimes take days to complete. The shades and lamps have just as much work in them as a framed piece,  so that although pricing will always be difficult, I have made a promise to myself that I will stop undervaluing these pieces.I've had a complete creative block lately and felt really quite low but in the last couple of days I've made time to mess about with my Wacom drawing tablet and found myself doing what I always used to do as a child which was drawing stories  just for fun and escapism. The little house, above, started off after driving past the white climbing hut at Stair. As I drew and played with the Kyle T. Webster brushes, the hut evolved into strange a fairytale that hasn't quite been put in to words yet....Today my lovely friend Susie , from Glaisdale where we both grew up, shared a picture of her mum who would have been 100 today. The picture was of a small girl with big boots and an enormous hair ribbon. Anyway I had some more fun doodling my imaginary version, perhaps she lives in the little white house? perhaps she's just going to visit? Either way it's nice to retreat into your imagination when it's cold outside and your glasses are upsetting you.Now, I have promised myself that I'll print two more pieces of fabric tonight ready for stitching tomorrow so I'll start to pipe down. The room smells of snowdrops and it's time for a cup of something warm. There are other things to talk about... how it's easy to get cocky and mess up all but one of your printed tiles by forgetting to rotate the writing, how the one mythical chilblains become a real thing when taking photographs in the snow and how it is possible, even when feeling a bit fed up , that some excellent fiddle playing might cause you to stop the car to dance a jig on the darkened fell side like the shadow of the girl  you used to be.Reading: "Wildwood-a Journey Through Trees" Roger Deakin.   Listening to: The Gloaming  and " The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock" Imogen Hermes Gowar (Audio book)