A secret revealed

At last I can let out my breath; I have finally received my advance copies of the most exciting job I have ever worked on. And work it certainly was. Blog followers who've had the patience to stick around this quiet place might remember that I spent the first half of last year working on *stuff* which rendered me an exhausted hermit. And here is the first fruit.

'Mrs Mouse's Cupcakes ' April 2011 available for pre-order on Amazon.co.uk

Yes. My needle felt toys now have their own little world, 'Puddletown Tales', published by Templar UK. It has been over two years in the making; one year of waiting to hear if the books were going ahead, six months of creating them and then a long, slow wait for the first copies to arrive this week. Regular readers may recognise the mouse on the front, a bit altered from the original.

Dear Andy has looked after me for nearly twenty years. We aren't married, but we have stuck to each other like glue and he has been there for me all the time, solid as a tall oak tree. It hasn't always been easy, especially during the ten years when it seemed as if I would never get a break. Without his support, this book may not have happened. So this first *all me* book is dedicated to him. There is also a beautiful introduction composed by Hannah Wilson the editor.




Friends will know I adore silhouettes. They aren't terribly commercial, but Janie the designer (who shares my love) squeezed one in as the Puddletown logo - naturally, a goose. Although this first book has no geese in, long time readers will know that I have a 'thing' about needle felt geese and they star in the next title.




The first spread is flat. Every penny counts in book production and we had to choose between having the multi-layered cover (expensive) or five pop up spreads. So one pop-up scene was sacrificed to pay for the simply gorgeously produced cover.



Quite often I unconsciously drew on familiar home surroundings to create Mrs Mouse's little home.




The actual book design was put together by my friend and designer Janie. All the artworks were done as spots or separate layers and the needle felt characters photographed in-house at Templar by William Steele. I did enjoy making the cupcakes!




Thankfully in these days of Photoshop and digital magic, single items can be manipulated and reproduced, saving a lot of work.




I was allowed to more or less indulge myself to my heart's content, which (as my fellow professional illustrators will know) is quite a rare and wonderful thing. The cake which Kitty Blue is pulling is just one example.




And of course, there had to be toadstools of some kind, illustrated and needle felted. ( am a very keen mushroom spotter and sometime gatherer).




There are a few little 'in-jokes' in the final spread.




For instance, this little picture of trees by moonlight...





...is *rather* similar to one we have hanging on a beam in our own tiny cottage.




It's a photo of a mixed media/textile illustration I made an awfully long time ago at college in 1993.





On this side you can see a grandfather clock which has a tiny wooden mouse on one side, referencing one of my favourite furniture makers, Robert 'Mouseman' Thompson.




And to end with (you will be relieved to hear) a cheeky nod to my own Red Flannel Elephant Designs logo, which anyone who has bought my cards or toys will recognise.

Thirty one years ago, a sad, angry and very alone twelve year old orphan stood under a favourite tree. Her parents had died, one after the other, in the space of a few months - her mother had passed away at Christmas. Now she was off to a strange new foster home - God help her, she didn't know then that it was to be as unkind as it was.

She stood under that tree, looked at the sky and whispered 'I will become an artist for you Dad and a writer for you Mum'. She swallowed the many tears that she couldn't bring herself to shed and walked off to her new - and very uncertain - future. Well Mum, Dad - it took three decades, but I finally got there. For you. With cupcakes.

The secret place

So last month, I had this picture - the one on the right hand side - to deliver. Not a million miles away, to an area we thought we knew inside-out. But somehow, this secret place had evaded us. It was an oasis of quiet, a little settlement near one of the Oxford rivers, where you wouldn't go unless you had business there. For a start, there is a large elderly lady goose, keeping a watchful eye on everything and everyone. She was formidable - look at that chest!

Almost as soon as we were in our host's front door, I was intrigued by a pair of photographs which looked rather familiar - anyone else recognise this rather famous statue?

That's right - it's the Peter Pan statue which stands in Kensington Gardens. Although it's not quite. These are a pair of silver nitrate photographs of the original plaster casts of that very statue. They were rescued from a skip by my client's father and then rescued again by her, from being binned again in a clearout. They are signed by the sculptor, Sir George Frampton - or just George Frampton as he has called himself here. Because of the usual problems of photographing glass I am afraid the image qualities are not great and I inadvertently appear in this one. I haven't been able to find any mention surviving pre-casts online, who knows if these are not the only records?

After coffee, we were given a grand tour, the main feature of which was this magnificent old disused corn mill. A mill was recorded here almost a thousand years ago in the Domesday Book and was still grinding in the 20th century. It is divided into three parts and we were privileged to be allowed to view the corner section to the left.

It is not entirely disused - it does hold the most amazing amount of - stuff - imaginable. The ground floor is crammed. Oh hoarders, rejoice!

Inside, it has barely changed structurally since it's working days. This includes the steps joining the floors, which sent the fear through me - heights and the vision of me falling down them, breaking my arm again. Andy went up first.

The first floor, smelling faintly of -

- apples!

When I first saw the mill from the outside, my first thought was what an amazing studio complex it would make. As I gingerly climbed each level I was proved right - the light is incredible, pouring in through two sides and once you get past the jumble, the space is immense.

A scythe rather casually propped up against a wall - old, but not unused; the blade looked fresh and new.

If you don't mind heights (I do) the views are stunning. This is as far as I could bring myself to get to that great big gap just waiting to be fallen through, showing the river to the right and the towpath where we would continue our walk.

The upper levels were more dusty, simply storing various beams and architectural gumph. Not so much light, but I could see a library in my mind's eye, cosy and labyrinthine with bookshelves and armchairs at strategic places.

Descending the steep steps backwards was even more heart-stopping than going up them. Andy stood nobly at the bottom of each flight, to catch me (or rather, cushion my fall) if the worst happened.

Outside, still mentally planning my studio mill-conversion (should I somehow acquire a couple of million pounds) there were more charms. A dear little vardo in need of love - me please! Who would not treasure this sweet wagon?

As usual, I got left behind, taking dozens of photographs.

There were chickens fussing about -

- and a pair of mischievous looking runner ducks.

We finished up almost back where we'd started, on the side of the sluice gates, which can just be seen to the right of the mill, where the red brick bridge is.

Such immense water power pounding through, and the sound fills your ears like thunder.

After a lovely lunch, we left with a homemade quiche, a leg of Scottish red deer (as you do) and the invitation to come back again - which I will, because there are a hundred and one things I want to draw - especially Madame Goose. Oh, and did I mention the goats?

Update - A final comment from our hosts that day -

"I believe the goose is Chinese and the goats are African Pigmy Goats. The big black one (Fred) is quite evil but Lulu Alfie and Daisy are really sweet. The Mill is not being restored or converted - YET"

Jeanne D'Arc Living

Oooh...ahhh...look! What is this assortment of loveliness I see before me? It is an elegantly wrapped packet from Betty and Violet, a vintage sewing and collectibles shop full of irresistible delights, whose exquisite blog I follow.

It is the January edition of Jeanne D'Arc Living magazine and it is the most beautiful magazine I have ever owned - until the other day that spot was saved for the wonderful Selvedge. This just creeps past it on the utterly delectable scale. I was lucky enough to win it in a Betty and Violet giveaway and I am smitten. Actually, to call it a magazine is to do it a disservice; it is more of a softback book, large and thick, simply jam-packed with sumptuous photos and ideas - and stunningly designed.

Danish in origin and with a European country accent, it is over 150 pages of lavish articles of interest - from interiors to cooking, gardening to decorating. Like Selvedge, it has a particular delicious smell which makes one want to bury one's nose in the spine. In this January edition, there is an entire section devoted to flavoured salt. Pure happiness.

The writing style is fresh and original, a pleasure to read and blissfully unpretentious. I am beginning to tire of certain popular *country lifestyle* magazines, whose articles I think are becoming a little formulaic and stylised.

Another refreshing aspect is that there is no advertising in the main magazine - just a couple of tasteful pages at the back. This means you get proper value for money and uninterrupted articles which are not visually disfigured or distracting.

'Jeanne D'Arc Living' is available worldwide through certain sites and distributors and happily for us in the UK, through the Betty and Violet site, who offer yearly subscriptions or single editions. They also have a limited amount of back issues, though you might have to fight me for them.

Snowdrop likes it too. She says she has read all of my Selvedges and that big pile of books.

I am not sure if I entirely believe her.

For the record, I haven't stopped loving Selvedge; I just think I love Jeanne D'Arc Living a tiny bit more.

Red bobbins, bobbing robins

A very quick order for a birthday present - a fat robin clip. Rather nice to make something in under five hours; one of my latest pieces has taken around about 30 hours plus and still not quite finished.

There are all kinds of treasures on this bookcase, but now there are some new ones - discovered on Etsy in 'Found For You Supplies', a set of gorgeous red vintage threads. Can you spot them?

There. Simply eye-tickling red loveliness. I had intended to use them for embellishing birds and *things* but now they are displayed I don't think I can bear to spoil them. I will colour match them with new threads instead.

What's in the box?

Is this not a wonderful box? I wish I could say I'd picked it up for a farthing but it was a very indulgent early Christmas present from Andy, spotted by me, bought by him, half fainting as he paid for it in a lovely but somewhat pricey vintage shop which has opened in town.

I fell in love with it and knew exactly what I would do with it.

It is actually an old 'Betty's of Harrogate' box, though I am not sure if it contained chocolates as it is fairly large. Probably it held an assortment of teas, biscuits and other dainties. But now it is my bird box.

I have been persevering with my primitive geese and have finally sorted the pattern out. I can't claim it's been easy getting back into sewing - such a clunky way of making something, piece by piece, after the flow of needle felting. But I do like working with nice textiles.

I hope to have these and a very small selection of new needle felt designs in my Etsy shop in about two weeks time - after three months of being out of business with my arm being out of order, I need to get into the swing of things again.

Honk honk! (Sang the seven blind geese).

Ice spider

Bird Car Ladies 1-2-3

A regular question I get asked is - how can you bear to part with your paintings & toys, and the brutal answer is because I have to eat and pay bills, so I can't be precious about hanging on to work. But there are a few exceptions to this, such as quite a lot of my commmercial artwork. And the Bird Ladies.

Not many people have seen this batch of work I did a decade ago and I have been asked to sell them before. The answer is always a polite no - they are not for sale. Last year however, I made an exception and offered to make a copy for someone who was captivated by one of my early Bird Ladies, 'The Bird Car'. The topmost image is the 2001 piece and the middle image is the newest version - brighter than the previous one, and with a little flower in the ladys hair, to mark it out from the first.

I only finished it in the last week of 2010, hence my trip to Oxford for a frame. They are the same but different - it's rather difficult to replicate washes that were done ten years ago and light exposure changes the paper and pigment. Actually, there are three versions of this, the other was a birthday present for a friend, but alas, I have no scan to show. I'm not going to copy it again; three is quite enough and matches the amount of prongs in the bird car, which is nice and neat. The task of getting the painting to the client was an adventure in itself...