Is there still magic in the world? At Wiseman’s Wood on Dartmoor in Devon, the ancient oak trees entwine their branches to whisper their stories. You start to feel the presence of otherworldly beings all around. Strap on your boots and go!
Is there still magic in the world? At Wiseman’s Wood on Dartmoor in Devon, the ancient oak trees entwine their branches to whisper their stories. You start to feel the presence of otherworldly beings all around. Strap on your boots and go!
Invoking the spirit of Michelangelo, I tried out stone carving. I find it difficult to create in 3D but was keen to try new things. Starting with no clear plan, I hoped that the stone would to speak to me. It did!
Finding a cosy nook to read in feels like home, especially when it is wet and windy outside. The ghosts of great writers, thinkers and artists once tarried here or walked the 1,200 acre grounds of Dartington Hall estate in South Devon. It’s easy to imagine their benevolent presence as I settle in this year of post graduate study.
Learning new things is exciting. But it can also be really, really challenging. The first days of mastering life on the road in a motorhome have been eventful in the extreme. It’s been a crash course of leaning, with plenty more adventures to come.
How can we use the motions of our body to create marks and can these marks become maps that lead us back into an active arts practice? I contemplate these ideas as I pack my bags (again) to travel to the UK this week. Walking and mapping will help me document my 10 months away.
It’s disappointing to reject artworks you know you have laboured over. Painful as it may be, we have to ‘kill our darlings’, the works that we have spent so long with, they no longer feel fresh. Instead, think of these as pilots, leading the way for the better works to follow.
I’m drawn to rocks for inspiration, especially the bedrock upon which we build the structures of our lives. Looking closer, it is the striations and seam lines, the tiny holes in the rocks that are the most interesting. The cracks where change is most evident, bringing elemental forces in play.
The call to adventure is strong in me as I succumb to weeks of restlessness, like the Sea Rat in The Wind in the Willows. Taking any kind of journey, creating movement of one kind or another, changes the energy, exhorting us to become wayfarers all.
It takes courage to follow that path less taken when the ‘crazy restlessness’ of creative adventure takes hold. Rather than throwing out your early artworks as ‘ugly ducklings’ they can be viewed instead as creative ‘markers’, leading you on a journey of discovery.
I’ve added a gratitude practice to my morning routine. It is an active, conscious practise giving thanks for who I am and what I have in my beautiful environment. Like my birdbath which has led me to a search for the water experiments of Dr. Masaru Emoto and sending out good thoughts into the world.
When I struggle to make sense of the world or my purpose in it, I realise that life is a constantly evolving journey. When I combined the cyanotype images made during my artist residency in Iceland last year, with screenprinted cosmic portals, I felt time looping backwards and forwards through my artworks.
Many artists find it difficult to write. I find it comes quite easy as I’ve been writing in one form or another all of my life. As an artist I have found that writing my ‘morning pages’ each day as well as writing a weekly blogpost help me work through ideas and stay accountable to myself.
What’s the secret to selling art? Time and time again, I’ve found that my artworks that sell almost make themselves. They jump from the paper with joy and fizz with delight in their frames. Quite often the artworks I labour over for many hours and days are not the ones that sell.
Why do I love paper? I love it as a material to touch, smell, fold, stitch, crinkle, burn and print on. I love to thrust my hands in water and fibre and pull out a sheet of still wet paper. Its an alchemical process that never fails to inspire me.
The sea is a poem, a song and a fever. It’s where I resonate with the lines from John Masefield’s poem Sea Fever, listen to the slap of water in Dylan Thomas’s fishing boat bobbing sea and look for Emily Dickinson’s mermaids in the basement. Sailing, ferries and boats are a part of my sea fever yearning.
I absolutely love boats and ferries. My 2021 vision board was all about embarking on a sailing adventure, but so far this has eluded me. Now I am taking action to see if I can make this vision come true.
The beginning of a new year is often a time of indecision for me. What sort of format and theme will I use for my daily artworks? There is always a moment of hesitation but I know that I have to start somewhere, anywhere, then the path forward will appear.
I think of the notion of taking care as we begin a new year. Taking care of our expectations, setting our direction and steering into the future. People say ‘take care’ when you are about to set forth on a journey or project. But it can equally apply to so many aspects of your life.
I have an addictive personality. Many people can manage addiction, but like reading a good book to the end, I find it hard to stop watching a TV series right in the middle. So I’m now about to become a total Netflix addict.
This is the year I have given myself permission to design the life I want to lead my way and to encourage others to do the same. As I do this I become clearer in how I want to work, what I want to create and how important travel and adventure are in keeping my inspiration alive.