Sheep and Poppies safely graze

My most successful designs come when I am drifting off or doing something else, and my latest lino cut, 'Safely Graze' was scribbled out during a meeting. My ADHD means I find it hard to do many everyday things, but I find I can concentrate better on what's being said if I have a pen to doodle with on my works notepad. Thankfully I work in an enlightened and supportive environment, so I'm not only allowed to do this, but am encouraged to do so. Once I had the basic idea down, I worked it up at home into a more solid sketch and began carving it out. It's a tense time, as I fear making a wrong cut and stuffing the whole thing up. 

As I was shaping the framework of the landscape, I realised it would work better with an extra tree line; the extra weight gives more balance to the weaker side of the design, where the white sheep's head is resting.  

I had thought this would be a straightforward printing, as it is only one colour with the red poppies tipped in by hand. However I had to sort out a recurring slippage problem with my proof press and went down a rabbit hole renovating my old nipping press, before finding a solution which worked with the proof press...all good fun. So that took several days off my schedule. But eventually, by the end of the week, I had a run going. I've decided to keep this one as an open edition, to make it a little cheaper than my last 'Summer in the Park' print, which was an editioned run due to how darned tricky it was to get the registration right. 

This one hasn't been all plain sailing, as the poppies are hand stencilled with pigment ink and I can only do a few prints at a time before my concentration slips and I start making mistakes. (I have a little cat design lined up next and it really is going to be simple and sweet!)

I have the first batch of 'Safely Graze' for sale here, in my Etsy shop; selling prints is helping me get through a difficult summer (as needle felt sales are very seasonal) so every purchase is valued and enables me to stay here a little longer. 

            

'SAFELY GRAZE' FOR PURCHASE HERE

Fuzzy buzzard

 

It's been some time since I posted a fuzzy picture of something. The farmer has cut the back field for silage again, which has stirred up the local bird life. I've been keeping my eye open for the hares, as happily, we have had a regular one appearing for the last few years. A month ago, Jean-and-Brian-next door saw two, dancing around together. (It's not exactly a competition, but I did hear a cuckoo in June when Jean didn't and we like to keep these things chalked up, metaphorically speaking). Anyway, I spotted a distant brown lump from the bathroom window and fetched my camera out to zoom in on it. Sadly it wasn't an elusive hare, but it was a juvenile buzzard, grazing for grubs and worms in the freshly cut grass. He/she has patchy plumage and a bright yellow bit to its beak. I'm going to stick my neck out and say it's a 'she', as it's quite chunky, but it's hard to tell the difference between the sexes at this stage. And just look at that focussed stare!

It was lovely to see and as I type, the grass has been gathered up. A carnival of swallows are dipping and swooping low, hoovering up low flying insects. Watching them from my bed provides a brief moment of escape from an unknowable future and yet again, nature comforts me.  

Summer in the Park

This is the photo which inspired my latest print 'Summer in the Park'. Taken in early Spring when I met some co-workers for a rather chilly 'Wellness Walk', it captures one of the long, magnificent avenues of lime trees, which are later plantings from the 1950s, replacing older trees from the early 1700s. This was instigated by the then Park Superintendent, the renowned gardener Percy Thrower, who felt the older trees to be dangerous; at the time it caused quite a controversy, but seventy years on there are still around 250 elegant mature lime trees which seem to draw people to them, like bees to flowers. I began imagining what might be happening under the trees - picnics, reading, babies in prams sleeping - and perhaps, a little dog and its human enjoying a pleasant game of ball. So I began my first doodles and scribbles. This for me is the most interesting part; tweaking the design and making tiny alterations until everything works in harmony. 

Then came the lengthy process of registering the two colour blocks so that everything lined up correctly over the course of two printings per piece. 

This is quite nerve wracking, especially using a premium paper and I pulled each print through the press with great care and gentleness. I eventually had a batch of over 40 good prints which just needed the final, painstaking touch; the tiny red ball which the little dog is leaping to catch. I spent an evening experimenting with various methods, trying different printing implements and techniques, but I couldn't get a consistent result and one mistake would wreck the entire print. 

In the end I bought a little pigment pad and used a big type piece full stop, which did the job. Despite it's miniscule size, the ball is the focal point of the whole picture. 

Earlier this year, I reprinted an old lino block from my college days over thirty years ago, 'Little Red Coat'. I've been creating these little figures since I was a teenager and it's interesting to compare what I did then to what I do now. I can pick out similar characteristics, but there is something more joyful in my new print, as opposed to the quiet solitude of the older one. 

From a limited print run of 42, I have thirty 'Park' prints for sale here in my Etsy shop, and a few 'Red Coat' prints for for sale here, from a limited run of 30, as they sold very quickly. (Or click on the pictures for a direct link).

The old lino plate was pretty flattened by the time I'd finished and I won't be using it again. Now I have to do a quick tidy up and move on to the next one. 

Solstice Morning

The dawn view from the top field at 5am this Solstice morning. I find it hard to stay in bed when the sun is up and the birds are singing so loudly and so early. Even in the farm was quiet and for a short while, it felt as if I had the whole world to myself. 

I’ve been working on a new two colour lino print, using some lovely Cranes paper which a kind blog friend from long ago sent me. I have to work slowly, as my concentration isn’t very good, so it’s taken a few weeks to get it to the final printing stage. 

I’m using a lovely thick Cranes printing paper which was sent to me in 2008 by a kind blogging friend in America - I have kept this paper safe, even back when we had a chimney fire in the old cottage - hard to imagine that this photo was taken 16 years ago and how different life was then. 

I managed to get 18 sheets printed and hopefully can resume tomorrow after a nights sleep. 

Did you know - you can sign up as a free, non-paying member to my Patreon page, and access many posts for nothing, including this recent piece ‘Treasure in the Attic’, about how my ADHD affects my ability to do complex tasks such  as printing.

Spring storm, hares and a bit of good news.

As I write, there are sporadic storms passing over the cottage, driving in from nearby Herefordshire. It’s been muggy all weekend; not the overpowering heat of full summer, but a heavy, dense warmth that brings on slight headaches and sleepiness. Now the heat has been partially lifted by cool winds and intense, short downpours, and the thick grey clouds rumble and grumble with low thunder. I do love this weather - if only it could be forever May, with fickle, changing light, flurries of tiny, fresh flowers and all the greens popping with new life. 

Things are, to be perfectly honest, not easy. I have no idea what the rest of this year will bring, nor if I will be here the next. I’ve somehow managed to survive eleven years in this scruffy but very dear little home, first of all not knowing if I wanted to be here after losing Andy, then not knowing if I could, as I am almost totally reliant on my Etsy sales for survival. Mostly I take a stoical viewpoint and try to ignore the things in the past that I cannot change and the future, which is largely unknowable.  Not having anyone to discuss things with is so hard and I don’t have the mental resources to deal with what might happen. So, I carry on needle felting and try to drown out my subconscious fear of what may be. 

I’ve just finished a marathon of making two ‘show off’ pieces, which have taken a month or so to create. Usually I try to stick to more affordable, simple things, such as this batch of carrots, in my newer, realistic style - 

 - and for which I made little letterpresses labels, just for extra niceness. 

But sometimes I feel the need to flex myself and go large. Often I’ll make a sketch of something before I start, but these two were made up as I went along and I gradually added the little extras such as two lines of trimming to Carla’s skirt; French knots stitched with thick Perle thread. Then getting to almost the end and deciding she needed a special antique mother of pearl stud from my best button box to finish her off. 

Poor Charlie was started a couple of years ago and was taking so long that I abandoned him, finding him in a plastic moth-proof bag at the bottom of a basket earlier this year. He was very grateful to be rescued and even more relieved to be given ears and arms at last. I usually can’t afford to invest so much time into bigger pieces like these, but sometimes, as I said, I like to indulge in a bit of ‘showing off’. Wonderfully, Carla has just found a new home and so tonight I will sleep a little easier before packing her off on one of the lovely new gift boxes I’ve sourced, tied with a ribbon. 

Which leaves me with another piece of very good news - on the recommendation of my friend and miniaturist painter Valerie Greeley, I entered one of my imaginary toadstools, ‘Fog-in-the-Woods’ for the annual exhibition of the Royal Miniature Society, whose patron is King Charles. I almost didn’t, as it costs £18 per piece to submit, which is half of my weekly shopping budget, but I thought I’d give it a try; nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

Needle felt - or needle sculpted wool, which is what it really is - is a non-traditional and fairly new media. I wasn’t optimistic that  it would be considered, especially as it’s been languishing in my shop, unsold, for a few years. 

However, I was thrilled to receive an email telling me that it has been chosen for pre-selection. This is the exhibition choosing stage and there is every chance it may be rejected. I don’t know if any of the selectors will have knowledge of needle felt, so it will probably be judged solely on its merits as a sculptural piece. 

If it gets in, the minimum selling price is £190, which puts it up there as a serious work of art and would make a huge difference to my profile as a selling artist. However, I am keeping a firm lid on my expectations and consider it an honour to have been chosen just for consideration. But wouldn’t it be wonderful…

If you’d like to buy one of my pieces before I enter the high-rolling international art market, do pop into my Etsy shop and pick up a bargain. (Said with tongue firmly in cheek). 

Coffee and sketching in Shrewsbury

In a message to someone the other week, I wrote that I felt as if I was waking up from a twelve year long nightmare (or words to that effect). I am slowly coming back to some kind of version of who I was before losing Andy, not only allowing myself to do things I used to love, but also recovering the capacity to actually take pleasure in them again.  Listening to beloved music that has previously been too painful to listen to, looking at favourite art books again, taking time to draw just for myself and generally doing a lot of self-care that for many years I didn't think I deserved. Living with chronically bad mental health and depression - which I've had since I was a teenager - is an insidious condition; often you don't know how bad things are until you begin to come out of it. 

I made such huge strides when we lived back in the Cotswolds, in our dear, tiny rented cottage from where I wrote so many posts for this blog. I remember waking up some mornings and feeling strange (in a good way) and realising that it was because I felt truly happy and content for the first time in my life. Then Andy and I made the decision to move to Shropshire and that feeling was ripped from both of us almost from the first week of being here, with the awful knowledge that the situation was entirely self inflicted. I will never find that kind of happiness again, but I am finally finding my own peace and my work as an artist is beginning to flourish again after more than a decade's hiatus.

After my lovely time out at the Stiperstones the other week, I had another nice outing when a neighbour organised a sketching morning at the Bird's Nest Café in Shrewsbury, also driving me there and back as there is no regular bus service here. I knew nearly all of the other attending artists through Instagram and it was lovely to put faces to names and chat - mostly about art, which I've missed. I was very lazy and stayed at the table, drawing three different coloured coffee cups. Again (as with the Stiperstones lichens) I had fun just playing about with colours and mark making, without worrying too much about the result. Consequently the result is  rough and ready, but fairly pleasing. 

Vast landscape, tiny worlds at the Stiperstones

I've been working in my new part time role with Enable Employment Services for a few months now and it's transformed my life. As an Expert by Experience (my life of dealing with depression, anxiety and 'everything else'), I contribute my pennyworth to meetings and other areas. For the first time since moving here, twelve years ago when it all went so terribly, awfully wrong, I feel I have a place and purpose in Shropshire and lovely work colleagues. I'm less isolated and it's having a positive effect on my art and mental health, neither of which have been right for all the time I've lived here.

A couple of days ago I was able to take part in a volunteering/team building day with Shropshire Wild Teams and we all headed over to the Stiperstones Nature Reserve for a tree clearing session. Enjoy this short video, taken from the cab of the minibus and accept my apologies for the wobbles and bad light; a proper video camera is still sadly a pipe dream, but you get the general sweep of the area.

The narrow roads leading up to the Stones are long and winding, gradually rising until you are many miles above sea level. There are scatterings of houses along the way - most too small to be called a village - and it is a wide, windswept landscape with views across to the Long Mynd and beyond. It was a cool, overcast day and the rain held off, though huge grey clouds marched along the skyline. 

 

I had a bit of bother scrambling up the scrubby gorse covered slope, as my legs are quite arthritic now. But several of my younger colleagues kindly gave me a helping hand and eventually I borrowed a stout stick, which was so handy that I had become quite attached to it by the end and was sad to return it. While everyone else began chopping down the invasive young conifers that are choking up the natural habitat, I wandered slowly up the hill, marvelling at the rich flora underfoot. I had anticipated having to sit the activity out and had brought along some art materials. The surrounding landscape was majestic, however I couldn’t have done it justice. So I focussed on the wonders at my feet; the tiny worlds of lichen and mosses which were sprouting on dead wood and old stumps. 

        

        

So easily overlooked and yet on closer inspection, so exquisite in their form and colour, resembling an underwater coral reef, with scuttering beetles and bugs for 'fish'. 

                 

I spent some time searching for the elusive perfect patch, eventually settling down on my blanket for a happy hour of drawing. 

                                         

I had a big sketch pad with me, and rather than fiddle about with a fussy, intricate study, I swept my pastels across the page, enlarging the diminutive stalks to giant size. Chunky little Unison pastels (a  gift from long ago) created the swoop and sway of the dancing stalks.

                                         

I was completely lost in my work, adding bright accents of colour, darker areas of negative space and later, thinner, more fragile suggestions of outlines with pastel pencils, another kind gift from a friend and a nice reminder of them as I worked. 

    

                                        

I did have a ‘moment’,  thinking about how Andy loved this area, in his brief time here. I had brought his Swiss Army knife with me, which I used to trim a pencil and I huddled into the waxed jacket I was wearing, which used to be his. 

        

        

I was so lost in my work that I completely missed the sandwich break and didn’t eat my packed lunch until I eventually got home and then promptly fell asleep after a marvellous day out.

       

Turning the page on 2023

 

Dropping in to brush the dust off my blog and wish everyone (if you’re still there) a happy and improved 2024. I had to make some changes to my lifestyle to try to manage my ADHD, jiggling things  (such as my diet and eating times) around a bit, in order that I can use my energies to prioritise work.  That meant resting my blog for a while, and concentrating on my Patreon page and Instagram. Hopefully now that I’m in a better routine, I can blog more regularly.

 

My mental health has been very bad this year, with the constant stress and the financial struggle to survive and keep the cottage going. In short, it’s been a difficult year. There will be a bit of a life change next year and having faced a lot of dragons in 2023, I’m back to painting at last. I hope this is an end to the artistic block I’ve had since moving here. As I write, there are fireworks going off far away and although I don’t celebrate New Year (for me, the year turned on the recent Winter Solstice), I am looking forward to turning the page on the old year and starting tomorrow with a new pink diary and calendar. A fresh start all round.