If you read my last newsletter you will know that I started 2019 by accidentally going out with my trousers on inside out and sharing a calendar I'd designed featuring the wrong days of the week. In an effort to reverse the, all too typical, trend I wrote a big To Do list and happily ticked off almost everything within a week, including the tax return. The only thing left is this blog post which of course means I'm sitting on the floor by the stove, wrapped in blankets, warming the fingers of one hand on a mug of tea and... yes, totally blank.

Reluctant snow flakes are floating aimlessly outside the big window, occasionally Causey Pike disappears in a flurry but not much is settling, it's as if the clouds are blocked up like a damp salt cellar. A big shard of ice just blew out of the gutter in a gust of wind and all I can think about is, how long it might take to make some cinnamon buns. January is definitely not a good time for imposing strict new diets and exercise regimes; in fact I think it is vital to edge into the new year cautiously, not looking it in the eye and being extra kind to yourself at every opportunity (and others of course, be extra kind to everyone and build up a fat store of good feelings to help you through the rest of the year's up and downs). This year in particular I've been really aware of how the low light in this house affects my mood and, these days, my eyesight. It feels as though I'm wearing a very large and heavy, wide brimmed hat so I've been trying to make sure I get outside even for a few minutes to make sure my rods and cones don't wither! Nutmeg kitten has been joining me on my short walks, bounding along silently, climbing every tree and promising that his extra bushy tail (which puffs up like a bottle brush the further we get from home) will protect us from almost anything.

I think one of the reasons I'm struggling to write this is that I've brooding over the #10yearchallenge thing on social media, which as far as I can see is only fun if you're about 30 ( that goldilocks decade) and looked a bit odd in your 20s or if you've made a massive success of everything in the past 10 years and overcome major set backs so that you can look back with smug satisfaction at how far you've come. I look back way too much, dwell on anniversaries and pine for the past to an unhealthy degree, so digging out photos from 10 years ago does not help me get used to the person I see in the mirror every day- I don't know who she is but she keeps trying to tell me that "looking back is for the birds" and I need to appreciate NOW more and look forward with less foreboding.

Because of the tax return and the New Year, January does tend to be a bit of a looking back, taking stock and reassessing the situation kind of month. Like many creative people, part of what I do inevitably involves some degree of rejection and this can be particularly tough as you bounce bravely into the new year full of plans and hopes. Poet Kate Hale wrote a really good blog about this from the point of view of a writer and as I sulked slightly at a recent exhibition rejection (more because it involved an un-returnable entry fee and a "we are to busy to email unsuccessful candidates" policy, than the actual rejection) I took heart from her suggestion that "You keep casting your line out, and you keep reeling it in. Sometimes there’s a wriggling fish hooked on the end, but most times it’s empty. That’s ok, though. This is just another opportunity for you to add fresh bait."

As you can see I'm still enjoying escaping reality with my daydreamy watercolour doodles. I'm not sure where I'm going with them yet; that girl keeps popping up in various places and I haven't quite decided what her story, or face, is yet... who is she?

One exciting piece of news this week is that there's the possibility of doing another set of book illustrations, this time for The Secret Garden. I really hope it happens, it's probably jinxing it to say it out loud but I really enjoyed doing the last ones for the Ugly Duckling and it's amazing to feel like a "real" artist! I've added the little books to my website recently and Elspeth will be at British Craft Trade Fair in April with all her "Storybook Cards"

Meanwhile in cyanotype news I've been adding a new section to the website which lists workshop dates for 2019 including one at Printfest where Cumbria Printmakers have been asked to run various 3 hour sessions alongside the exhibition which is all a bit wildly exciting as it's one of the most prestigious print exhibitions in the north. Just as exciting is a brand new exhibition this summer organised by fellow Cumbria Printmaker, Sarah Robley, at Lanercost Priory. Print at the Priory, is a selected exhibition showcasing a wide variety of techniques and some fabulous artists... I'd better get practising!

Well, I've managed to stumble to the end of this post and if you're still reading thank you. I really do like writing I just need to be more organised and confident about it I think. Anyway, here's to another year of ups and downs, adventures and lazy days. x

Reading: "Holmes and Watson, a miscellany" by S.C.Roberts and Listening to: (audio book) "The Binding" by Bridget Collins

Settling down to write seems to be getting harder and harder and I wonder why; is it the endless lure and distraction of social media, a shortening of attention span or maybe a fear that I have nothing worth saying in these serious times. More often than not, when the short days are iron grey and heavy with damp, it's because I have no new images to share and maybe you're as guilty as I am of looking mainly at the pictures and skim reading the text!
Tonight I've completed some Christmassy tasks, the last posting day has been and gone, so I've lit candles, loaded up the wood stove and built a midwinter writing nest.

Reading The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder to Nutmeg

This month I have been escaping the gloom ( literally and metaphorically) by retreating into the world of familiar wintery books from my childhood and also enjoying some magical "children's" books, which I often start reading when I'm working in the bookshop and then, becoming lost in the story, have to bring home to finish. Last night snuggling in bed to read Snowglobe by Amy Wilson I was so aware that this "comfort reading" is vital to my mental health (and well earned after a month of Haruki Murakami's giant brick of a book!). Re-visiting these stories is pure escapism and while I'm reading I can feel connected to the younger me, when I still hoped to become a pony or Sherlock Holmes or to find other worlds in the back of wardrobes (Ok I know, you know I still do hope these things but Im 51 now so shhhh, don't tell). It has become a winter ritual for me, ever since a weird, sad winter when I discovered the Moomins, drank a lot of Whisky and listened to a lot of Vic Chesnutt and was held together somehow (see posts from December 2009 for reference). So, am I the only one? What is your comfort read?

The light! Borrowdale in December

The reason these posts take so long and are rarer than red squirrels is that I keep looking back to check stuff and then go off in a daydream, "off on a tandem" as a colleague of Rupert's once said in all seriousness. So I just looked back at that winter of 2009/10 and all that sparkling snow, a twist inside of homesickness and loss. Something I miss about "home" in Yorkshire is the quality of the light and the big skies... But it's crazy to say that when I see pictures like the one above; Borrowdale a week or two ago, a day for soaking up the winter sun, hugging mossy trees and thinking about all the amazing and wonderful things living here has brought - new people, new places and loads of artistic opportunities which, if I'm honest, just weren't happening back home.
Last weekend I did a small event in Cockermouth with a group of women who run a plastic free market - dried goods, baking, floristry and eco cleaning products. As a final event of the year it was heart warming and encouraging; vitally for me it was about connections, I feel as though I am starting to know more people. Today I got a lovely email from someone I'd only met twice (once by the lake and once at the market) just saying how much she liked the lantern she'd bought and hoping my cold was better, it seems an exaggeration to say so but it brightened my day beyond belief. If you make any resolutions for 2019 let it be to reach out more and keep in touch with people, write more letters and make more coffee dates!

As well as losing myself in "childish" books I've been doing something else I loved to do as a child; making up imaginary scenes and drawing stories. These watercolour doodles are such a nice antidote to cyanotype and probably fit into all that "mindfulness" thing as I can feel myself relaxing as I paint. I'm not a painter though, there's already one of those in our family, but I'm starting to feel the same enjoyment I've felt in the past, just doing it for fun, for me. Anyway, if I can't ever afford a real little golden house with a fairytale garden I can at least pretend one...

Now it seems that I've forgotten to put the kettle back on the stove and I really do need a pot of tea. I've missed loads out, I've waffled and not even mentioned the exhibitions and the stuff I want you to buy from my shop and the stoat that has turned into an ermine and the window of the bookshop and the kitten turning out to be a boy and ... my New Year thing should be to write more but for now, where ever you are Happy Midwinter, enjoy the pause, look after yourself. The light will soon be returning and we need to make some magic spells I think because there's some worrying stuff going on out there.

ermine

Reading: The Clockwork Crow - Catherine Fisher
Prairie Fires- Caroline Fraser
Snowglobe - Amy Wilson

Emily's Rose at Haworth Parsonage.

It's blowing a gale outside, I can hear the rain sloshing against (and probably soon into) the windows, not pattering, sloshing, in great bucket fulls. It's the perfect night to sit with a cat on your knee writing a blog post but goodness it's hard to settle down to - oh I need a mug of tea, the fire needs another log, hang on while I check Instagram one more time... oh and I need to answer that message on Facebook... Despite a long conversation with my brother tonight, about how much time we all spend on social media, I've probably spent more time this evening looking at pictures of other people's dinners than doing anything constructive of my own. In the half silence of fire crackle and storm howl, now pinned to my chair by a sleeping demon, I have no excuses and no distractions and anyway this week was newsworthy.    

Tiled map illustrated by Angela Smyth.

Visiting Hebden Bridge this week felt very emotional for several reasons. Firstly I was delivering work to a lovely gallery there. I first heard of Heart Gallery in late 2015 when the town flooded in the same storm that devastated much of the Lake District (and eventually led to the loss of my job at a gallery in Keswick due to a drop in the visitor income that paid my wages). Many of the businesses in Hebden Bridge flooded including Heart and since most of these were small independent shops it seemed an even crueler blow. Dropping off my work in the bright and beautiful gallery on a sunny Autumn day, it felt like the culmination of a long journey and one of those weird things that happen these days, where you feel as though you know someone or somewhere because you've emotionally invested in their story online. I made sure to do my very best "Just a Card" thing and bought a copy of Elementum and a card by Ruth Thorpe before calling in to see Ed at Snug Gallery , another virtual acquaintance with a flood recovery story to tell (here I acquired a card by Julia Ogden and a copy of Uppercase). It's always weird introducing yourself to someone you've only met online, somehow implying you are a "person of great importance" among the billion voices but here's the thing - we can make real connections from afar and although parting with cash always stings when you don't have bundles under the bed, it also felt right to be spending it with love if that doesn't sound too cheesy. Ok, it sounds cheesier than melted cheese on a cheese scone but I don't care; the world is full of stuff and junk and pointless landfill (Sainsbury's plastic pumpkin anyone?) and all the places I visited in Hebden were full of ... heart, for want of a better word. 

Sunlight through the windows of Hannah Nunn's studio

So here's the second reason for being emotional... When I was at college we had to write a study of inspiring designer makers and I chose Hannah Nunn, who, I think, had graduated fairly recently and was just about to open her shop Radiance, showcasing her gorgeous glowing paper lamps. Hannah was generous and supportive in her replies to my questionnaire and when we eventually met, years later at BCTF, it turned out that she was actually pretty lovely in real life too. When I started making lampshades and filling in business planners about ideal stockists, Radiance was top of my list but... I didn't dare ask because I liked Hannah and Ffion too much to risk an awkward rejection! 
Anyway, knowing I was visiting Hebden Bridge at last I plucked up the courage to at least ask for some feedback and was given the news that was announced later... (please read it)

https://www.facebook.com/RadianceLighting/photos/a.191479537537613/2228510660501147/?type=3&theater

The shop is beautiful, the people are lovely ( not to mention all the other hard working designers and makers who they support as stockists) and what are we to do if places like this can’t continue to light up our towns? We'll all be poorer for the loss of them.  Hannah was kind enough to show me around her studio in a nearby mill which was wonderful, all sunlight and "tiny treasures" and luckily thriving away from the risks of the high street. I don't know what the answer is. We are all so used to things being relatively "cheap" because they are mass produced and ultimately disposable so of course handmade things seem expensive in comparison, of course they do, even if the person making them probably doesn't even pay themselves a minimum wage. Tonight, driving home from the bookshop, I listened to a radio programme about the Experience Economy which discussed the fact that people are choosing "experiences" over "stuff" but that one of those experiences can be the feeling of connection with a story. I left that northern town with a small bag of treasure, a lighter purse and a feeling I can't quite identify but that I know is positive - visual stimulation, creative inspiration, a sense of history and connection, something fizzy and hopeful despite everything.

Autumn sun

Have I rambled on? Is there space to tell you about the cat getting stuck up a tree and eating Hawthorn spikes ( we needed tweezers to remove them!) or walking around Loweswater in the first frosts of Autumn, hugging trees and sharing chocolate peanuts? I haven't even told you about visiting Haworth and seeing the tiny, tiny notebooks of the Bronte's.

I've been busy making new things to take to Kendal Craft Market at the end of the month and also getting distracted with a rediscovery of heat transfer disperse dyes, painted by hand and printed onto fabric. These work best on manmade fibres unfortunately but I've recently found a supplier of some recycled polyester made from plastic bottles which is much nicer than it sounds, so watch this space. Inky doodles have also resulted in these hyperactive hares. A repeat pattern (made digitally) that might work on fabric or wrapping paper.

Finally here is the Purple Pomegranate version of the little illustration project I was working on in September. The books are designed to be sent as greetings cards and come with envelopes and space to write a message.There will be a bigger version for the teaching of English to children abroad so I'm looking forward to seeing that when it's printed. I loved working on this, I certainly learned a lot and there's nothing quite like seeing something you've worked on in print. 

It's chilly now, the cat left my knee ages ago in favour of the radiator so I'm off to bed where I shall dream of inky hares and perfect pink roses, sunlight through seed heads and kittens up trees - but it's so late that you won't get this until morning. Have a lovely day. 
x