Happy 2020! Here is the view from half way down the fell I struggled up on New Years Eve, fuelled by my gingerbread polar bears and coffee from a surprise coffee van - I'm getting slower but its always worth it for views like this.Well, It seems as though the only way to break the silence on this blog and make a fresh start as I enter my 12th year of occasional writing, is to admit that I was defeated when I started writing this post back in November. I ground to a halt, bogged down in a quagmire of half thought thoughts.This is what I wrote ... "...I'm writing this by the stove with a hot water bottle up my jumper and a pile of buttered toast with blueberry jam next to me (well, in me now if I'm honest). It's dark outside, frosty cold and moonlit and I can hear an owl calling - a good night for hunting.What happens if I don't write regularly is that things get jumbled up and all the internal monologs that made sense when I was walking up the valley or wide awake in the middle of the night are forgotten. You'll have to take my word for it that they were fascinating and really worth writing down and not at all like this paragraph of waffle. I do regret not making at least one post a month though, because more and more this blog has become my personal record of the past 11 years. At a recent art fair a customer commented (flatteringly) that one of my bear drawings looked similar to another very well known artist's bears and it was a relief to be able to trawl back through old blog posts to confirm, to myself, that it had been drawn before I'd seen her work, although inspired by some of the same sources.At another event a woman picked up a print which I told her was from a piece I'd done at college "Oh it's lovely, don't you wish you could do something that good now? " (people say the funniest and rudest things without meaning to) It's good to be able to look back and see that, with a few exceptions, the things I make now are 100% better than those I was making in November 2009, even if the person making them is a bit more rounded and worn around the edges.
What's brought on all this looking back ? Well on Twitter last week I saw a post pointing out that there were only a few weeks left of this decade! That fact is fairly obvious and shouldn't make any difference to anything but it came as a bit of a shock to someone who can still remember the last days of the 70's quite clearly and somehow can't quite believe how quickly the past ten years, in particular, have been and gone. The question posed by the tweet I saw was, what have you achieved/learned in this decade and what are your hopes for the next? In some ways both these questions terrify me as I am prone to focusing on my fears and failures as well as feeling that, like John Cleese in Clockwise "I can take the despair. It's the hope I can't stand." Besides, many achievements also contain the bitter taste of Something Overcome and those things are hard to look back on, even when heavily sugared by success. But in a decade of big changes for me there are definitely some small achievements to celebrate and as for hopes... "And there I was, stuck, on what should have been the easiest question, what are your hopes and dreams? Well what are they? What are yours as you stride into the year?
So, much of what silences me and makes me sometimes fear writing from the heart in this, "public" space is the pressure to be positive and upbeat at all times, or risk damaging my business, and the very British habit of reserve which means even my most candid posts are heavily censored to avoid being too much of a bleeding heart. What I spent hours mulling over, forgetting to write, turned out not to be my hopes ( I hope for a garden and a pony of course, doesn't everyone?) but my fears - for the planet, for the world my children will inherit, for our country under this government and of course my own selfish fears (how many greetings cards = 1 weeks rent and should I be making more "stuff" in this world of stuff?).Anyway it's the New Year now, we're all full of optimism and shiny new intentions aren't we? I've invested in a fancy new planner from the Makers Yearbook to organise and motivate myself, it's bound to lead to wild success and world domination - gardens and ponies for everyone! I have to set daily/monthly tasks and one of today's is "Finish that bloody blog post" (s'cuse me swearing).I've also been drawing something everyday (so far, don't hold me to it, it's only January 9th). Here is last night's effort, part of an unwritten story.
My trip to Moniack Mhor continues to inspire me, I just need to knuckle down and put it all into practice even if no one reads the results except you and me. James Mayhew and Sarah McIntyre are doing another picture books week at the centre and I can't recommend it highly enough. I'd love to go back but this year I must be sensible, and besides, the car has refused to contemplate the trip.
It's nearly time to feed the stove, make a mug of tea and see what inky character emerges in this evening's session. But first, here is the cover of the poetry book I did for Gary Liggett in the Autumn. It's a signed limited edition book, handmade in Cumbria. I really enjoyed working with different media for this one (Lino cut and watercolour) and as usual it was a learning process. I'm so glad that he liked it, along with the three illustrations inside; you can see them all here along with some other illustration work.
In other exciting news, I was invited to take part in The Great Print Exhibition at Rheged, in their new gallery space. Sara and I went to the opening night ( we nearly turned back because the poor old car went over a bump and its lights went dim) and I was so excited to see my work along side so many amazing printmakers from all over the country; there was even a red dot on one of mine! Being in an exhibition like that and better still, selling something, is a real confidence boost because I think when it comes down to it, the biggest creative battle I have is the dreaded Imposter Syndrome.
If I don't write again very soon shout me and I'll get my act together. Also this post is dedicated to Kat Lakie, a friend of this blog, and everyone else in Australia, I'm thinking of you and hoping for cooling rain xReading : "Help the Witch" Tom Cox and "The Lost Future of Pepperharrow" Natasha Pulley (out in March )
Way back in the dark days of January, when nothing seemed to be going quite right, I was sent a message by my friend and bookshop colleague Will. The message was a tweet from the illustrator James Mayhew promoting a "once in a lifetime" retreat he was leading along with Sarah McIntyre, about writing and illustrating picture books, at the beautiful Scottish Creative Writing Centre at Moniack Mhor. I couldn't afford it* and felt I didn't really deserve it but I was fed up and feeling directionless so I closed my eyes and pressed "send" on the deposit and also ordered a pair of silver boots for good measure ( I felt sure they would inspire me, and be the perfect antidote to sensible Lake District walking gear).
Well, it's nine months later, I got home from Scotland on Saturday night and have been processing the experience ever since, reading Sarah and James's blogs and wondering how I could possibly explain to you, in my own way, how how amazing it all was. I've never been on a residential course before, not even the character building ones you go on when you're at school (although I did once famously-shamefully- run away from a riding holiday I'd pestered my parents for when I was 13 - I was just too shy and couldn't cope with the streetwise kids from Swansea). At first it all felt a bit like getting sent to the Big Brother house. Since all the Moorside House debacle and moving to the Lakes I've lost a lot of self confidence and become quite isolated so I was very aware that my social skills were rusty and I needed a haircut. Everyone was really welcoming though and it was impossible not to feel excited and inspired surrounded by so many lovely people in the impossibly glorious setting of Moniack Mhor. It was good to be back in a place with big skies and air you could bottle; living in a steep sided Lakeland valley with enormous Sycamore trees for neighbours you can't take light for granted; just look at the view from my desk!
We had group sessions in the mornings with some great creative activities and talks by our esteemed tutors who were so open and generous with their knowledge that I really felt quite over emotional at times (nothing new there I hear my family mutter) Sarah shared the processes behind her top selling books (here she is reading from Grumpycorn, about a unicorn trying to write the best story ever but constantly procrastinating - ha ha, I do REALLY need a donut and some coffee right now...) as well as her very first ever books made as a child. Her message was that the difference between being a writer and just wanting to be one is finishing things and throughout the week she gave us fun tasks which resulted in tiny quick "books" as well as "Comic Jams" and thumbnail layouts. If you're interested or studying illustration her website has loads of really good advice and inside knowledge.
James Mayhew's sessions were a joy, a riot of colour and mess as he had us painting to music or making collages to illustrate the traditional stories he told. James's work includes painting on stage, with orchestras, often working upside down (the paper, not him) and of course his wonderful Katie series, Mouse and Mole with Joyce Dunbar, Mrs Noah's Pockets with Jackie Morris and the recent Gaspard the Fox books with Zeb Soanes. We were all transported by his storytelling; from memory he recounted traditional tales such as the Baba Yaga, The Firbird and the Orange Princess, conjuring fantastical images and the warm memories of bedtime stories. The final night around the fire, under the stars was a testament to the ancient human urge to gather by smokey firelight to tell stories and share songs and laughter. James also brought with him one of the great characters of the week, his partner Toto, also an artist, who kept us all in stitches with his be-kilted cycling exploits as well as proving to me that you don't have to dress in beige Gortex to enjoy the outdoors and you can still rock wearing your hair in bunches even if you're not 12. What a fabulous couple, they made the week for me. (look at James's blog for some images)
Here we are admiring the results of painting along to Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade.(mine is the weird green sea monster on the left)
On Wednesday we had a visit from guest speaker Pam Smy who had come all the way from Cambridge for just, one night to share her unbelievably gorgeous sketchbooks and the gruelling 4 year process of completing Thornhill whilst also teaching full time. We were all in awe of her dedication and unique approach to creating her book, not being afraid to reinvent the picture book format to fit the story she wanted to tell.
The last day was for showing what we'd achieved and actually I'd not done very much drawing except for a squiggly watercolour/ink sketch of the Hobbit House ...
I decided to use it as a cover for a little scrappy "diary" of my week and spent the final afternoon blissfully sitting under a tree, listening to the gorse pods pop in the hot sun (don't let anyone fool you, Scottish weather is boiling!). It's only a few pages long but I've made it into a wobbly pdf. on my website so that people from the course (or you if you fancy it) can print it out if they want, I hope it works because it was just a bit of fun. I can't wait make some more and take more time over it.
And so, as the coffee pot calls to me, some final thoughts... firstly, I couldn't fit in all the magical moments and lovely people (we even had surprise bagpipe players and an emotional Burns night supper) without rambling and boring you silly but the most important thing I want to say is a huge THANK YOU, to everyone at Moniack Mhor, to my fellow students and the staff at the centre, to Will for giving me the nudge, Rupert for not going mad that I'd spent the rent paying for the week, my ancient car for making it there and back again and most of all to Sarah and James. Both our tutors are big names in their industry and you might have expected matching egos but the word I keep coming back to is Generosity - they shared so much and were totally open about all the ups and downs on their roads to success, as well as personal stories of self discovery and secret inside information on the picture books world. I know how tiring it can be teaching workshops and they could have been forgiven for making a bit of space for themselves at the end of a busy day but it wasn't like that at all which is why I think all of us are still re-living the week and will be for a while yet.
Important housekeeping notes...*Helen Kellock was on the course and it turns out her actual, real life, utterly stunning book "The Star in the Forest" is published this month with a launch in Waterstones, Glasgow and this event at the amazing Golden Hare Books in Edinburgh. GoodLuck Helen!*Sarah McFadyen was also on the course and kept it a secret until the last day that she's actually a musician and vocalist in the band The Poozies, who I can remember from folk festivals I used to go to. She gave me a CD for my drive home and I love it (It also may have caused me to drive too fast). When I got home I had a giant bath and couldn't stop singing this song ...*Links to my fellow Picture Bookers Twitter accounts can be found here, most of them are on Instagram too- be sure to follow as they are all amazing.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGGBq8CJptYFinally...back in the real world the fells are putting on their russet cloaks and I'm looking forward to leaf fall when a little more light will filter into the house through old Sycamore's branches. My next event is the Three Peaks Art Trail which is a taking a bit of getting my head around after a week immersed in Picture Books, it will also be the first event I've done that my daddy is also taking part in (yikes!). The new Guide to Whats On at Dove Cottage in Grasmere also includes my workshop there in March next year, I can't wait to do some cyanotypes inspired by Dorothy Wordsworth's gardenThe webshop is newly restocked with cards, calendars and NEW money boxes - so you can start saving up in case it all goes wrong next month!Until next time x*I was fortunate enough to be able to scrape the money together for the course from money earned selling my stuff at exhibitions and with support from my family but I feel that everyone should get a chance to experience things like this. Moniack Mhor is a registered charity and they do have a Bursary scheme as well as ways patrons can donate to help provide these facilities for people from a diverse range of backgrounds. If you happen to be a kind, rich person please consider becoming a Patron Reading: Fierce Bad Rabbits, the tales behind children picture books by Clare PollardListening to: The Poozies "Knees of Fire and The Chase"
I leant on the fell gate earlier, before the thunder came, and watched a dove grey cloud, in the shape of a dragon, sail along the ridge and dissolve; I was trying to think of whether or what to write to you, after such a long break. It was snowing last time I wrote and today has been the hottest day of the year. I've never left such a long gap in writing this blog and I wonder why that is; because I think if I'm honest it's the part of my creative life that I find, have found, to be the most enjoyable and useful. I'm alone a lot these days and maybe I've lost my voice, or just the confidence to use it? There seem to be so many voices, so many images and opinions and although every day I wander and ponder and think and look, it has seemed unnecessary to add more to the noise.Anyway, I'm determined to write something now that I've started, so I suppose I'll begin with places. Here is the view up the valley, where I sat earlier today peering through the feathery meadow grass after my dip it the beck. I wander down there most days and Nutmeg Cat comes too, sometimes there's a big gap in our visits though and when we go back everything has changed (he was very surprised when the bracken appeared like a lush jungle and made new ambush games a possibility). Last night the air was full of moths and the smell of honey, that heather scent that reminds me of all the summers I've ever had.
For some reason hot summer days always do bring childhood memories - the smell of warm tarmac , the feel of bare feet on grass. Last week I had a really special time down in Wiltshire with the West Country bits of my family. It was wonderful to walk in a landscape so different to the Lakes, big skies and the chalk meadows above the white horse at Cherhill, a billowing magic carpet of wildflowers and butterflies, even the air sounded different as it whispered through barley fields and sang like eerie uilleann pipes through a metal five bar gate. Visting Wiltshire always feels a bit magical and nostalgic, in my mind it's always summer, always a bit golden and bleached out like a 1970s photograph; this time I even fell off my bike and got a scab on my knee for added 70's authenticity! So as well as doing some XR things in Bristol, weaving offerings for the Avebury clootie tree and visiting the window at Lacock (where the first ever photograph was taken), we went to see the house I'd lived in in 1978/9 when I was 11 ish and my parents borrowed a beautiful pink stone, house belonging to the artist Richard Smith. It was the year that I got obsessed with the white horse at Uffington after watching The Moon Stallion on TV and also the year I started "big" school; beginning the whole tummy ache and tantrum strewn process of puberty, trying to fit in with the wrong accent /shoes /clothes /attitude and trying to avoid going to the massive school in Chippenham while my brother went to the tiny village one next the house, where I think I can remember him learning to make fudge and plant carrots! There is a point to all this reminiscing, I just can't quite catch it yet...
I think I have it, I think it's places and memory and getting older. I suppose that year in Wiltshire marked a point in my life where I still retreat in my head... still safely a child with no responsibility but old enough to wander and cycle about the lanes or clatter about in the neighbouring churchyard in my clogs, being a pony, lost in an imaginary world of magical horses, standing stones and mysterious jumbled up stories of myth and legend. I read quite a lot of "children's" books at the moment ( most recently The Girl Who Speaks Bear and Lampie and the Children of the Sea .... read them, you must!) and it seems no accident that the characters are often that age or round abouts ...so here's the point and the reason I'm in a muddle....
I just paid the final balance for a thing I booked whilst in a fit of January gloom, the same day I ordered pair of silver boots when I probably ought to have bought a SAD lamp or some heating oil. Anyway, it's a week's "picture books" workshop at Moniak Mhor, Scotland's Creative Writing Centre with James Mayhew, Sarah McIntyre and Pam Smy (who are all illustration super stars) and it cost more than I earn in a month. I must be mad? Imposter Syndrome walloped me immediately I'd pressed "send" on the deposit, even though I was about to begin a paid commission to illustrate The Secret Garden and people do occasionally buy my pictures it still felt really self indulgent and anyway...what have I got to say to children now that mine are grown and I'm coming apart faster than that cloud dragon? One thing working in a bookshop tells you, if you ever doubted it, there are a LOT of wonderful books out there.
Well, I've paid now and I think it will be inspirational and scary and fabulous . Truth be told it is unlikely to help me make a living but then, all the money I invested in doing Trade Shows didn't really do that trick either. Making a living as an artist or writer is never going to be easy and whist I long for a place that could be Home for long enough to plant a tree or two, I know I am lucky to live like I do, it's just a question of believing it's ok and not panicking too much about time being short. When I grow up I want to be.....
Now for a bit of housekeeping... I've just delivered work to the new Maker's Mill in Keswick which opens on Saturday 3rd August. On Wednesday 7th of August until September 3rd I'll have a shop space at Craftsmen at the Priory in Lanercost (where I was a guest exhibitor last year) and there will soon be new workshop dates announced on my website, including one at Dove Cottage in Grasmere. Ok, that's me done, time to go to bed and read . I hope you've kept cool in the heatwave and I hope I didn't put you to sleep with my ramblings. x*Blog title inspired by a panic stricken, last minute, homework project we "helped" with at my brother and his girlfriend's house...Reading: The House of Glass by Susan FletcherListening to : Possession by AS Byatt and "Life's what you make it" Talk Talk