Mid September and I'm trying to be still, to take stock of the year so far and also recognise how far have I come from that sunny September day (3 years today) when my life was turned upside down by a chance remark - and how far I have yet to go towards accepting my new reality. A recent spur of the moment decision to visit family and friends at "home" in Yorkshire left me with a terrible feeling of not belonging anywhere (yet) - old friends were away and too much had changed. I walked around Town like a deer in the hunting season, all full of adreneline, in case I should see Enemies (at one point retreating to my car for a few tears and the coffee I'd hastily tipped into a flask to escape the loneliness of a window seat for one). It's pretty hard for people to understand because on the face of it life here in the Lakes is pretty bloody idyllic and I can't argue with the fact that the enforced change has opened doors to exciting places and brought unimagined new joys ... but thats not the point, it wasn't my free choice to leave at that time. The prodded, still raw, emotions made me overflow with empathy for displaced people everywhere and wish more than anything that I could be of use somehow.In Costa, where the only newspapers were the Daily Mail and the Sun I felt like an outsider, even me with my privileged, white, middle class cappuccino, wondering how much worse it would feel to be a refugee or asylum seeker. Homesick for a place that no longer exists. I try to raise money for charities like Shelterbox but it doesn't seem enough; one bleeding heart idealist giving the odd tenner, however it is an amazing thing they do, so if my brief wallow in the past informs one person about their work then that's good isn't it? ( theres also a very neglected post on my Facebook Page which has some things for sale to raise money for them)
And so the colour palette changes again - hot pink, steel grey, purple blacks, russet and velvet brown- and I wish and wish I was a painter - or at least was able to express what I feel and see in some satisfying way. The Rosebay Willow Herb has climbed to the top of its stems and the last few magenta flowers are held above downy clouds of seed feathers, bright memories of a summer that seemed to be over before it had started. The joyful discovery of this summer was swimming without a wetsuit ( the wetsuit gives me floaty legs and I end up in a skydiving position with a crick in my neck - I'm really not a good swimmer!) and I can hardly believe that this picture, taken just a few weeks ago was probably the last one before next spring. There's been so much rain that all the water temperatures have dropped and since I do it so infrequently there's no chance to get acclimatised to the cold like some of the real swimmers are. Still, I might give it a go and I'm hoping one day to get some tips from local swimming guru Susanna Cruikshank who has just set up a new business as a swim guide and might help me progress from being a head up dipper to someone who can swim more than 25 metres without getting hiccoughs. (EDIT we went and swam in Ullswater last night as I was half way through writing this and I got in again for a moment or two after the wetsuit bit - it was chilly but bliss).
Continuing to assess the year; as far as work goes I've been up and down and round in circles and back up again. Sometimes things have worked really well and I feel quite surprised at myself; the digitally doodled Jackdaw I drew the other night for example or this hare print which is now a lamp, heading to Shetland, Bonhoga Gallery next week. Other times I feel so cross with the whole thing I just wish I could get a regular job as a gardener or bake cakes for a living- everybody likes cake and gardens never stop growing but people don't always NEED a card or a piece of art, its undoubtably a luxury. I was really excited by the response to the "Just A Card Blog" interview I did earlier in the month, it had been a bit of an ambition to get some nice exposure and help promote their campaign message. On Twitter at least, I felt briefly famous and successful ... it's only when I tell you that barely 3 people looked at my website because of it and there were no extra sales that you start to realise that our social media bubbles are like a hall of mirrors, reflecting distorted versions of your own thoughts back at you ... the brutal reality is we need to reach customers not just other creatives.
Its also vital that people realise why work is priced as it is - I'm probably being terribly indiscreet and unbusinesslike ( what's new) but 0n Saturday at a wonderful open studio in the Eden Valley I got into discussion with a visitor who praised my work but said it was "too expensive" in her opinion. I've said it so many times, and I know I'm preaching to the converted because you're here reading this, so you probably understand, but listen - a piece of art or anything you see in any shop probably has at least a 50% mark up (shops and galleries have bills to pay too) that means that if you half the price of a print which retails at £70 you're left with £35 from which to take the cost of materials (the paper alone can be about £6 a sheet), time, framing or mounting and all the other expenses ( including the years of learning the technique, making preliminary sketches, thinking and planning). Nobody's getting rich quick like that.Having said that we recently walked in on a customer in an outdoor equipment shop rudely accusing the staff of "just wanting to make money like all the other shops in this town" which was pretty crazy when you think about it, so maybe its not jus a problem in the creative industries.September 28th has been planned as #JustACard Day ; a chance to really spread the word about the importance of even apparently small sales to keeping independent shops thriving in our high streets and supporting artists and makers - if only by spreading more understanding of the issues around this kind of business. There are a few ways to get involved so do follow the link and see what it's all about.
I almost lost my nerve a bit while thinking about what to write this time. There is a strong case for the whole "keeping up appearances/positivity attracts positivity/you're in business so don't be so open" school of thought but actually I'm bored with that kind of dishonesty; the extreme end of which is "fake news" and other evils of these unsettling Trumpian Times. Anyway, it is what it is and I'll end by singing about the good things... the walks in the now familiar fells (who have shaken the moths out of their brown velvet coats and scented them with woodsmoke), the postman arriving with surprise, unsolicited book gifts, the re-discovery of yoga ( yeah, like the rest of the world we're rolling around on the carpet most days trying to follow Adriene Mishler videos without falling over or getting attacked by the cat or distracted by the mousetrap going off) , the excitement of new exhibition plans with Cumbria Printmakers. It's not Utopia but sometimes when you're standing up as tall as you can on top of a hill and pretending to be a mountain it gets pretty close. x
Reading: " A Pocketful of Crows" Joanne Harris (one of those happy moments when social media works as it should and the lovely @likewinterblue from Sam Read Booksellers, Grasmere sent me a surprise pre-publication proof after seeing that it was on my wish list. Some people are just friendly and kind and that makes up for the rest!) I'm loving it and making it last longer by also reading "The Ladies of Grace Adieu" by Susanna Clarke.Listening to: owls and there deepening breath ( ha ha! not really I'm just trying to get in the yoga mood)
Nothing specific happens but it suddenly doesn't feel like summer anymore; an awareness of the tiny changes in the smell of the air or the particular shades of green seems to awaken some ancient instinct to begin baking cakes with cinnamon, checking the store cupboards and worrying about logs (* I started writing this post about 2 weeks ago now so the logs have been delivered and stacked; one thing less to worry about). You imagine August to be all sunny corn fields, blue skies and ice creams on the beach but it seems more often to be jungly shades of Hookers Green as the shoulder high bracken completes its takeover of the fells and the trees balance darkly on the edge of Autumn. It feels like the moment when you just can't wait to get the decorations down and clear up after Christmas- anticipating the new season and the fresh inspiration it might bring. Now, a couple of weeks since I initially started this post, you can definitely see the first russet tones creeping over the green brackeny slopes ... like the roots starting to show through on dyed hair ( I pinched that line from Rupert who has been fretting about the weather after a summer spent getting wet and drying out soggy tents with bunches of NCS kids). The cusp of a changing season is such a special time and as I write I'm hoping for a bright crisp Autumn full of rich colour and clear skies, an excuse to bake comfort food and the smell of woodsmoke and fallen leaves.
I have no idea why it's taken me so long to complete this post; I can only put it down to a massive bout of inertia ( and some truly evil migraines) that arrived as soon as I got back from Skipton Art in the Pen... suddenly there was a gap in deadlines and I had a bit of a dip in confidence and motivation- despite both shows combined being a big success. I had some really interesting conversations with people visiting my pen, including several people who immediately "got" the references and shared the same passion for bears, and the stories associated with them, The Owl Service by Alan Garner and even one person who noted a Japanese influence (which I initially denied before remembering my obsession with Haruki Murakami novels). It was also really wonderful to spend time with other artists and makers, particularly Penny Hunt (whose beautiful Yorkshire Dales house I stayed at), Debbie Yare and Hester Cox - working in isolation, it is always such a relief to realise that we all share many of the same doubts, fears and joys that come with this job ( and life in general). I had a LOT of people asking me HOW I made my work (or explaining to each other without asking) and it's taken me these past few weeks to organise how I feel about that ... being naturally super friendly, approachable ( I hope you'll agree) and (a little too) open, it seemed rude not to share- and I did, in detail- but the more I was asked the more I wanted to say... but it's just a technique, don't you like what I did with it? Did you notice the drawing and careful composition? You wouldn't ask a painter how they made a painting or walk in to a cafe and ask for the recipe to their most popular dish without even ordering a coffee Sometimes I spent ages explaining after which the visitor declared they would order the chemicals online and try it themselves before walking off without even buying a card (of this more later). I LOVE sharing what I do, including how and why, but from now on I will be trying to be a little more businesslike and promoting workshops... if you want to learn about cyanotype, get in touch ( there will be cake).
I was really excited, on my return, to find an e-mail inviting me to be interviewed for the Just A Card blog. You might have noticed me going on about the campaign at various events, and on here, ever since I first heard about it, in 2014. It aims to raise awareness of the difference that we can all make by choosing to support independent shops, artists and makers by making even small purchases, such as greetings cards, which help keep people in business. Certainly most of my income over the weekend at Skipton was earned by selling cards...sometimes just one , but each one carefully chosen by the customer and each sale so very important to me. The combined card sales meant I could come home knowing I had made enough profit and would be able to continue doing what I love.
You can read my interview on the Just a Card blog on September 1st. Let me know what you think.
Hmmm, I'm sitting here trying to choose pictures to illustrate this post and getting cross because my silly iPhone photo-stream won't synch with my laptop. This means I can't share the picture of a fairytale swim I had this week. It also shows how annoying technology can be...except that I'm currently in love with my new Wacom pen and tablet which has reawakened my love of sketching and doodling and just playing with colours and lines and the stories in my head. As someone who loves simple, real things, bakes their own bread and likes to make jam, it feels a little wrong to be spending so much time with a "pretend" sketchbook when I could be using real paints and any of the gorgeous materials I have stockpiled since childhood. Is it cheating? Or is it playing and enjoying mark making ( which is the first thing they make you do at art school) ? Either way I'm having fun and it makes things much easier than my ham fisted drawing with a normal mouse or trackpad.
Now I'm being told my battery is low, it's 3 o'clock and I promised myself I'd walk down the lane to see if there were any blackberries. As usual I want to write more and I've left it too long between posts so I think I'm going to leave this one here and try to be more disciplined about writing in future. I need to tell you about that swim and the cold water hives episode and the absolute joy of it all.
If you subscribe to my website newsletter you will have got a message about this month's shop discount code and the fact that I'm donating a percentage of all web sales this month to Shelterbox who provide practical help in disaster zones and areas of conflict. Home and "shelter" are subjects close to my heart so please take a look at what they do.Until next time x
Reading : "The Remains of the Day" Kazuo Ishiguro Listening to: My treat this moth has been to subscribe to Audible so I'm currently 7 hours in to the 19 of Kafka on the Shore byHaruki Murakami.I listen to it in the bath while practicing my underwater swimming technique!
These two pictures sum up last week as I prepared for my first big art fair, Art in the Pen, at Thirsk. I tried to work in the dark, gloomy cave of the house while the sun beckoned like a secret lover, through the lace bedspread, hung to keep out the bitey insects. Setting up outside I was driven back in by the glare or the wind or the fact that I looked like I'd been dip dyed upside down in a vat of pink from sunburn. The evenings of swimming were blissful though and I'm now slightly addicted to the well documented after effects of being in cold water; the silky cool feeling under the skin that contrasts with the warm surface and the release of endorphins that feels weirdly like the effects of ...hmmm, less "official" methods (which I neither admit to, endorse or condone) but were once described thus by American chemist Alexander Shulgin ... "I feel absolutely clean inside, and there is nothing but pure euphoria. The cleanliness, clarity, and marvellous feeling of solid inner strength continued… through the next day. I am overcome by the profundity of the experience." Obviously swimming is a much more healthy way of feeling "pure euphoria" and less likely to land you in jail; it really has helped lift my blue moods when my natural inclination would normally be to curl up and nest.
After an epic drive ( hot air blowers on full blast to stop the car overheating in the traffic jams) and still in recovery from a 3 day migraine ( brought on by dropping the settee on my foot during a mad hoovering session and not cured by standing for an hour, thigh deep in Scope Beck wearing just a t-shirt, hat and pants like a crazy old hobo) I made it to Thirsk and set up my pen (with lots of help from Rupert who'd been waiting there for hours).It was a fantastic, if unlikely, event. As if by magic the slightly grubby and smelly animal pens were transformed by an amazing group of artists and makers who not only produce fabulous work but also design the display solutions (not easy making a sheep pen that was awash with slurry hours earlier, look like a gallery), and work like mad to make it all look great. I didn't have much chance to look at everyone's stands as I was on my own but it was so good to meet Hester Cox in person at last (my heart is set on one of her prints one day) and I spent a virtual fortune on some the work I saw on other people's stands. My friend Sarah Ames wins my "resilience and tenacity" award for doing the whole thing on her own and driving all the way back home to Cockermouth every night! Sarah Robely wins "set design and catering "award because her stand was pristine and her lovely mum Shona, was there with home baked treats to feed to the 5,000. Bridget Wilkinson wins my "wow you're an inspiration" award because she was so helpful, is a good friend and is making it work! I've also got to thank the lovely Penny Hunt because she suggested I applied and her gorgeous work will be at the "Inspired by" gallery in Danby next week for her solo show, as well as Skipton Art in the Pen next month.
I walked alone across familiar fields that belonged to another lifetime and stood watching a small drama as the sun set and a pair of buzzards, disturbed by something not visible, called to each other and dipped and swooped with chattering, acrobatic swallows- rioting before bedtime.
And so, after catching up with as many people as I could and wishing with all my heart I could spend more time with them, I took a massive detour home to avoid a traffic jam which would have meant needing to steam my face again with the car heaters. A two hour journey took four but I saw some great landscapes as trundled back through Kirby Stephen, Kendal and the South Lakes. I actually found myself saying "hello" out loud when Blencathra finally popped in to view and for a treat we went to the pub for chips before an icy, dusk swim in the river to wash away the sin of fried food. A tent was pitched right beside the swimming hole, as I'd guessed it might be, so we lowered ourselves in to the dark water upstream, trying to gasp quietly at the shock and swam quickly and breathlessly past the campers, trying not to alarm them. It felt quite exciting and the mossy rocks were like carpeted steps under the water- I wouldn't like to be in water any faster though, it's deceptively hard to swim against even a gentle current and I do quite enough of that on dry land.
Now I'm going to tidy up the boxes still to be unpacked and see what I have left to take to Skipton on the 12th -13th of August and prepare for a workshop at Greystoke next week. Thanks again to everyone who made it a fun weekend. I have loads more to say but I'm having think first and anyway, it's time for coffee and baking a cake I think ;) 