Little cottage room made good

 

For the first time since moving into the cottage over ten years ago, I have a functioning front room. There are many reasons why it has remained a 'zombie' room, mostly due to my being overwhelmed by the sheer muddle of it all (one of the many symptoms of my ADHD) and needing to get the wood burner swept. It has only been briefly lit once, when Andy was alive and has been unused ever since.

However, with a very small electric budget and the ongoing issue of rising bills, I decided to leave my upstairs studio storage heater off this winter, with the result that I've been unable to work in there without catching a chill (even with several layers of clothing and a dressing gown on top). And I can't afford not to work.

So last month I used some Christmas money to get the sweep in. He declared the fire fit for purpose and Brian-next-door helped me put a rudimentary curtain rail over the open doorway, to block the cold upstairs air off. I finally got this neglected space sorted out; I now have dedicated painting and printing space, and a place where I can work in the warm with the fire going. 

It's made a huge difference, as I can pick things up and put them down without losing sight of them, as happened with the other space, where my work table had several roles, and had to be cleared for each one.  Life is slowly starting to make sense and ideas are beginning to return. Little bits of my brain, the ones that dreamed of silly, whimsical things, are waking up again and the results are finding their way onto paper.

My aim is to expand what I do, on top of needle felting and bring in enough extra money to cover the mortgage and be able to stay here. It's been a long struggle to maintain things and at times hasn't seemed worth it, without Andy to share it with.

My drive to be an artist and to earn a living creating has seen me through tougher times than this. As a young person in the care system, trying to fend for myself, my ambition to be an artist saved me from many pitfalls; nothing else mattered apart from that one thing that drove me forward and to make a better life for myself. In retrospect, I'm amazed I achieved what I did, especially now I know I had undiagnosed ADHD on top of everything else. 

If I'd known how long and hard my journey would be, I might have given up, but I didn't, so I'm not about to throw the towel in now, not without a final effort. I owe it to my younger self.

(The ceramic cat in front of the fire is one I made when I was a 20 year old art student and it looks totally at home underneath the warmth). 

New Year Return

The first day of a shiny New Year seems as good a time as any to crank this old blog back to some kind of wheezing life. The Old Year was a difficult one, particularly in the autumn, when I sank into one of the worst bouts of depression I’ve endured for years, largely down to the looming prospect of having to sell the cottage and face an uncertain future. However, I managed to drag myself out of it and am starting 2023 feeling remarkably positive, despite everything. 

After a creative slump, when I felt as if I’d never create anything original and pleasing again, I began making a new range of little creatures who have cheered me up during the dark winter evenings and are proving popular, quickly finding new homes and so helping me to stay in mine.

I tend to withdraw into myself when things are going downhill, hence the quietness here. When Andy and I relocated to Shropshire over ten years ago, it was supposed to be the next exciting chapter of our lives together and as many of you know, it was completely the opposite. The trauma of losing him, just three months after we moved into the cottage has taken it’s toll and I don’t think I’ll ever recover from it. What I didn’t know then, was that I was also starting the menopause, which brings its own set of difficulties, especially, in my case, mental health ones. I was also unaware that I have severe ADHD. I was finally diagnosed in May last year. It didn’t come as a surprise, but it has led me to reevaluate the way I live and to realise that all of these things made my time here the most difficult period of my life, which has not been the easiest in the first place.

I’ve no idea what the next ten years hold, if I’ll be here this time next year or even this summer. I am, however, feeling stronger somehow and more like my old self than I have done since leaving the Cotswolds. I’m older, more tired and achey, but I’ve managed to find a little nugget of courage kicking around in a corner, just when I thought I was all out of it.

Rainy evening in Shropshire

 

My dear little bedroom, where I spend so much time working and resting, has been Spring cleaned and tidied. This is my sanctuary, my safe place, where I am surrounded by everything I love and everything that interests me. 

At the bottom of the bed, I have added an old tool box, placed on its side, so that I can have a changing display of flowers or dried cuttings, to enjoy and study for future painting.

This evening the rain has been steadily moving across from Wales. The field was cut for silage two days ago and birds of all kinds have been gleaning titbits from it, including a skein of swallows, swooping low to collect flies and other delicious treats.

Today has been divided between painting for two of my Patrons and working on a needlefelt commission; it’s time to rest, so I am indulging in some light reading on one of my favourite historical subjects.

Resurfacing with flowers

 

Dusting off the dear old blog and decorating it with some pretty hedgerow flowers. I have completely lost track of time, and can’t believe I haven’t posted since February (apologies)  but I’m still here, lost in my quiet bubble of needle felting and painting. 

My new needle felt book is finally due to be published at the end of May and I’ve posted links for pre-orders on my website, including major worldwide sites. Although you can also order it through your local independent bookstore.

I’m so happy with every single one of the twenty patterns, which are mostly seasonal home decor and wearables, with additional decorative elements of darning, stitching and patching. It’s not so much a book about how to needle felt  as a book about what you can do with needle felting and how to expand the creative possibilities. 

This has taken nearly two years to come to fruition, as it was commissioned pre-Covid at the start of 2020. When I finally got the go-ahead, I worked non-stop for months, eventually making over 100 pieces of work for the style photos. I haven’t yet held an actual copy in my hands; only then will it seem real. 

Beneath the apple tree

 

This weekend I have been working in the garden during the warm afternoons. It has become rather a jungle and I cannot remember the last time I sat out in it; Joe didn’t like sitting outside, or gardening (which should have told me something) and subsequently, I too became discouraged. I’m still adjusting to the complete freedom to do what I want, when I want, and that can be a difficult thing when you’ve spent most of your life living with one person or another.

As it was so nice, I fetched my three beloved old bears from the bedroom so that they could enjoy the sunshine too. We had a cup of tea and some chocolate buttons that a friend had given me. I needle felted little pears for my book, while the birds fluttered in and out of the willow tree, singing their Spring tunes. Bumble bees droned heavily over the dandelions and as we were sat under the apple tree, there was a faintly acidic smell of cider from last year’s old fruit which are still clinging to the branches. 

The pear tree is coming into full blossom and despite my many imaginary and unaffordable dreams for the garden, I was very content simply to gaze upon my scruffy kingdom, which has become so dear to me.