I've been hiding in the bedroom. I think I've mentioned before that this house feels a bit like a tree house or a goldfish bowl: it's a Cumbrian Bank Barn which means it's kind of upside-down - you come in downstairs but we live upstairs where the room is dominated by glass doors onto what was the "bank", originally the entrance to the threshing floor. From most windows at the front there is no visible sky, just tree branches and mountain side. Anyway, a man turned up today to clear the roof of moss and all day we've been stuck here watching clods of sodden mud raining down like cow pats from the sky and getting our knickers in a twist about insensitive timing and the almost hilarious speed at which long neglected things are being done now that we're being kicked out. Now the roof and gutters have been de-mossed it will make it all much nicer for the landlords but right now it just means our windows are splattered with mud and my "garden" of pots outside the big window is like the Somme. I'm moaning, I'm sorry, we're grateful, it needed doing. It's just that we felt trapped, especially when the landlord stood outside the window chatting with the roof guy as if we didn't exist, as if lockdown didn't exist and things were crappy enough but now it looks a mess too.
Poo sticks! It's so boring to keep going on about it when I want to talk about art and trees and lovely things but I think its probably worth noting that both of us have been sailing really stormy seas this week and just as we feel briefly calm the enormity of the stuff we have to sort in the next few weeks (time that should be spent on other things) crashes down again and at times we've both admitted that we've doubted our own reality, were worried we were wrong, had been naive and had brought it on ourselves by "making a fuss". Today's "Hot Ear" conversation put my mind at rest a little; there may be nothing we can do or change, we will have to leave, but the situation is not of our making and didn't need to be like this. I'm so angry that this could easily be happening to other people in much tougher circumstances, in fact it is, all the time and people need to know that. I found some useful site's today that I hadn't been aware of but always hoped existed, one is Ask Tenants which attempts to redress the imbalance whereby checks are compulsory for prospective tenants but there are no similar checks on landlords or properties for rent.
Yes, I know, I should shut up in case it ruins our chances of finding a new place but I can't. We ARE good tenants. Injustice thrives on silence.
Here are some imaginary and illusionary houses...
The black and white tree house picture only surfaced recently while my brother was scanning some old negatives. I have no memory of the place, a family friend's garden, but I was immediately surprised at the similarity to my slightly surly tree house girl. Weren't the 70's funny, I have no idea how I got up a tree in a lace mini dress, am I happy or stuck?
I haven't drawn anything new today but I have been packing some orders, lining up my ducks and feeling very emotional about the lovely comments people have been writing. Thank you so much.
Want to see something beautiful now? For several years David Wilson, a stained glass designer and art college friend of my parents, has been sending me occasional funny and encouraging messages (he grew up in Osmotherley where I used to live, went to Middlesbrough Art College and eventually moved to New York) Today I looked at his updated website and am now fantasising about building a swimming pool with stained glass walls, a light filled room with angels and abstract panels and warm blue water...ok, I know but it's good to dream isn't it. Aren't they something?!
Images ©DavidWilsonDesign
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