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one evening with a tiny wobbly monster who was barely able to get up the stairs .This cute, gift kitten has somehow been replaced by a large, spikey tiger with a ravenous appetite and dubious bathroom habits, in the blink of an eye.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?
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 ...
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?!
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!
Reading: Killing Commendatore - Haruki Murakami
Yesterday I was sitting in my usual place, a favourite old Lloyd Loom, feet on the table, drawing ducks, when my chair suddenly "boinged" loudly like a cartoon jack-in-the-box and I realised the springs had given way dramatically, and quite musically. It's been a pretty dramatic week, as you'll know if you follow me in any of the usual following places. Last Friday I'd just arrived for my shift at the 
One thing that happens when something goes badly wrong is that people are generally lovely and all the other artists in the exhibition were great, 
Anyway, it's done now, I'm trying to look on the funny side (if I struggle to sell my artwork how will they? Were they disappointed that the risotto was vegetarian? Why did they take the coffee but not the pot?) and the gestures of kindness and generosity from friends and strangers makes me grateful that my life is enriched by good people and that's something those thieves must surely lack.
You wondered why I was drawing ducks when the chair gave way? Well thanks to a chance connection in Sam Read's Bookshop, I've been asked to illustrate a little book that is being written as a part of a series designed to help teach children English, mainly in Africa. I'm really enjoying drawing and inventing characters. It's actually nice working to someone else's brief, although the stolen sketchbook had lots of my initial drawings in it, which is annoying but it could have been worse. Last week the writer Tom Cox had his
This week has been a particularly odd one ( in good ways) and I blame 
Ok, to be fair its not all Jackie's fault. When I knew she was coming to Sam Read's and that I'd be working that day I had tried to work out when I'd first mentioned her work on this blog and of course that meant I trawled through the past and my net came up full of pictures of "home" so my memory was jabbed and I lay awake all night listening to the owls conversing on the window ledge and lived most of the lines from that Talking Heads song ..."this is not my beautiful life...how did I get here?" Anyway, Jackie and Robin arrived in the bookshop and we talked and drank coffee from Lucia's and ate the peculiar bear shaped biscuits that I'd made and I'm pretty sure I was completely uncool, like an overenthusiastic puppy (I am excited about so many things and it's a shame that shyness makes that feel awkward, I wish it was considered un-cool to be cool and that people could really feel free to express their joy without worrying that they appeared foolish and agonising about it afterwards). It was lovely to talk about art and nature, printing blocks, sketchbook paper, conkers, and the book "
Even though I know being outside will lift my spirits and that walking is the best way to work through ideas and emotions, it is often the hardest thing for me to do. Actually motivating myself to leave the house can feel like wading through bread dough and yet, and yet...it never fails to work subtle magic, mood lifts and thoughts start to race. Today, because I wanted so much to find and photograph the stone I was not only inspired to get out but observing everything around me even more carefully. I had a mission, like arty geocashing, no wonder 
I nearly gave up but then I worked it out and there, nestling in the crook of a branch was the golden treasure! Well hidden, not at all obvious if you weren't looking. I invented a quick spell, toasted with a flask of coffee, which will hopefully channel some of Jackie's skill and success into my own work via my "I am an artist"
On the way back to the car I lost my bearings and found a tiny creature on a wooden bench, another little treasure, on a path I would never otherwise have discovered. That sounds a little bit like life, so, now, by the stove (which needs another log) I'm trying to find the words to express this magical walk without straying into the sickly realm of motivational quotes and New Age, pseudo pagan bullshit but actually I'm not sure I can (talk about Lost Words eh) To me it feels as though it reinforced the fact that everything is connected , that getting lost can help you find what you really need and that the treasure you find, however tiny, is the reward for all the bad stuff.Look, this bear found treasure too...
The kettle is about to boil and I have a parcel to carefully wrap as these two lamps are heading to new homes in the far North this week. I've added a custom order section to the 
Reading : " The Keeper of Lost Things" Ruth Hogan Listening to: " The Amber Spyglass" Phillip Pullman ( Audio Book) oh and this... "