Almost finished.

The painting of the puma has been leaning against the wall in my studio for a while. I was going to scrap it. Then a family came in to wander around and look at things and the father said something about the painting. Out of all of the things that were there. It pulled me up, made me look again, and so now 'I am Cat' is almost finished.

Meanwhile while at Art in Action I got together with Catherine Hyde, Hannah Willow and Tamsin Abbott. There was much laughter, but also a plan. So now we have the beginnings of a small group. We will exhibit together, at least once a year we hope. In the meantime you can wander through our studios and see our work on facebook at The Sisterhood of Ruralists.

The Wishing Stone, white foxes and red.

This morning I woke to the sound of rain on the roof and windsong. It seemed as if the magic had been taken out of the world. Downstairs I wrapped myself in a rich red cardigan, long and warm, deep red, the colour of rosehips in mid winter. I thought about the fox and his winter queen. I thought about the Kitsune, Japanese shape shifting foxes. I found my book of Japanese folk tales and went fox hunting.

Japanese Tales

Edited and translated by Royall Tyler

The White Fox: Four Dreams

Four nights ago someone bought me a picture of the Kasuga God, though I couldn't see what the god looked like.

The night before last I watched the evening star and a bright moon rise over Flower Mountain. Star and moon were the same size.

Last night in the fields I came to a big stone that looked like a Wishing Jewel, and I touched it. It was warm. North of the stone lay three foxes. I picked the white tuft off one's tail and saw that it was a big white fox. "Wear red, " the fox said, " when you bring me offerings."

At dawn I got twenty gold relics of the Buddha.

As I write down this marvelous sequence of dreams, I shiver again with joy and awe.

A note to the story says:" Shaped like a fat, falling drop, the Wishing Jewel is an emblem of good fortune. The tails of magical foxes sometimes end in a Wishing Jewel shape." 

I smiled, wrapped in my woollen cloak of warmth. Perhaps the magic is still here, if you look for it.

Thaw

Someone has stolen the stars from the sky. The wind is rising and the spell of cold has broken. The earth is no longer white.

Boxing Day

A short winter love story, chapter 2

They danced again on the pond last night beneath a sky clear of all but stars and then she gave her rust red lover the gift of a lapwing. He left the wrapping in the lane, still soft, beaded with frozen tears.

A short winter love story.

On closer inspection it became obvious. The fox had not been dancing alone. The Queen of Winter, who loves him so, had frozen the pond especially to dance with her russet darling. In a moment of careless abandon she discarded her crown in the garden. It has begun to melt.

Finishing things

Finishing the fox. Almost done. Glows in my studio.

While staying with Judy Dyble I found many a lurking lurcher in paintings, small statues and even a Wiz on the sofa, so have a small series of paintings inspired by her house. The above was begun at Art in Action where people kept disturbing me to sign books, so finished at home and destined for The House of Golden Dreams and then on to The Imagine Gallery in Long Melford for exhibition in September.

Wizz on the sofa next to Judy's piano and below the art cover work for Talking with Strangers.