Learning. Always learning.

Early morning dog walk on the beach. On the way there a flock of curlew flew across the hill in echo of the invitation painting for the exhibition opening tomorrow. Made me smile.
On the way home a dead rabbit lay in the road. I collected things for the day ahead and stopped to collect the still warm body. Soft fur, shine still in the eye, almost warm. Dead. So many times I have wanted to just draw, so I decided to change plans and begin a series of roadkill drawings. ( Traveling so much over the last few weeks I have been shocked by the weight of dead creatures by the roadside. Foxes, badgers, deer, more pheasants than a shooting party could hope to bag, cats, dogs, buzzards and owls. Sad) I remembered something one of my tutors had once said. " Never make a mark without thinking of what you are doing, without thinking of what it is you are trying to say." I begin to understand what he meant, but it is a tentative understanding.

 

Other drawings happened and I  prepared the Hobb cover for gilding tomorrow. I hate these pieces when they are at this stage. They look ugly to my eyes.

I met two young people, the girl a student from Bath Academy. She wouldn't have been born when I left there. Both fantasy fiction fans, both interesting to talk with, they now frequent places I once did when I lived in Bath.

Home, tired, to a house warm because Hannah had made the fire, Tom had got the logs in. I took the rabbit to the high hill top, a present for the ravens now, or maybe for the winter fox.  A rainbow shone in the sky and wind ruffled his soft fur. Peace.

 

Inky blue

Today, quiet progress despite hustle and bustle at the centre. Next door in the afternoon, a lecture. Outside the door a small girl watched while I painted and commented to Jetska that I was 'working very hard'. In the cafe as I placed prices next to a hare drawing a woman said, " Well, I don't think my husband would agree on that price." I wondered what he did when he wasn't theoretically questioning my prices.

I learned that the day dawns at 600 miles an hour in St Davids, and a formula for calculating how fast it rises depending on where you are in the world.

On the beach the tide line was littered with by-the-wind sailors and I feel as blue as their inky sails, though cannot specifically define why.

Working away from home.

Working in my new studio space for the first day. I found that as soon as I sat down to work the conversation that takes place between myself and the paper was the same as it is anywhere. I could hear people around, but Radio 4 kept focus away from being disturbed and it was warm and light.

The only thing was the day finished at 5. When I looked up I found that the sky was falling down! Rain so hard everywhere was flooding, but I had been lost on the wings of dragons.

I only had my iPhone with me, but here are some photos.

I learned a few things.

1. I whistle while I work.

2. I swear too much at my paintings.

3. Best not to burst into random out of tune singing.

4. All that matters is the spaces between head, heart and drawing board.

5. I work on a lot of different pieces of work at the same time. ( I have another half finished piece here in my studio at home that needs to be taken in.)

 Above and below, the studio space.

 A painting that has waited too long to be finished.

 Above and below, two new strawberry foxes; or, something to settle me in.

 Above: wolf drawing, waiting. Kingfishers, almost finished. Below, my boots, Robin's rug.

 My desk in my studio with the beginnings of the cover for Blood of Dragons by Robin Hobb. Soon there will be gold leaf.

Spit, Fente, Sintara and Heeby.

Meanwhile, outside, rain.

Exhibition at Tourist Information Centre, St Davids

 Last week I spent three and a half days with Nigel from the Tourist Info Centre in St Davids moving and hanging the exhibition that will be on there until the end of January. The TI Centre shares its space with Oriel y Parc, the beautiful and small gallery that houses a part of the Museums and Galleries of Wales collection. At one time they ran an artist in residence program in the building, but with cutbacks this is one of the things that has fallen away and the room has been idle and little used. Somehow I managed to talk my way into becoming an 'artist in residence' there, using the studio space and having an exhibition that runs through the length of the building.
Today will be my first day working there. I have never worked away from home before and require solitude when working so the idea of working in such a public space is, at the moment, filling me with dread. The residency is not a paid position, but even so I feel some, pressure isn't the right word, maybe obligation would be better, to be a little accessible to people. So, how to get the balance right?
This week I will be open to the public between 2 and 5 on Thursday afternoon, working in my studio and available to sign books. Then in the evening a more formal opening from 6.30. ( If you would like to attend please let the Parcs know as they are trying to get some idea of numbers attending.)
Other than that if people want books personalised they can leave them to be collected and I will sign at the end of the day. 
Moving my studio has been more disturbing than I thought it would be and so I am moving tentatively at first. I am hoping to be able to 'play' with some new ideas at home during the evenings. Meanwhile will see how things go one day at a time.
And for those who find Pembrokeshire too far here is a sneak preview of the show. It will be on until end January and the exhibition at Oriel y Parc in the Museums and Gallery space will change on around 25th November. At the moment is a Turner, Cecil Morris, John Bellamy and Graham Sutherland. Also beautiful silver work and exquisite glass pieces. A small but richly rewarding exhibition.

Caro Flynn is also showing some work in the window of the centre. Emma asked if I would help her to arrange the display, so, despite my better judgement I said yes. We were chatting and she had been cleaning the glass doors and shelves and I was saying how I didn't really 'do' ceramics because I am such a clutz, but, being brave I picked up the most expensive and very beautiful jug and went, 'I'll put this here then" and slammed it straight into the glass door! The noise was awful and I felt sick and Emma's face was a picture and the room ( where there was a meeting going on) went silent and everybody looked at me, and the jug, still in my hands, and fortunately for me and goodness knows how, unbroken. Well, if Emma hadn't cleaned the glass so well I would have seen it!

Glad to say the rest of the window disply was put together with more care and the jug looks beautiful, as does all of Caro's work. I am particularly taken with the small, round, owlpot.

Back to work.

I have not painted for almost 4 weeks now, but have worked and worked and worked until I felt ragged. Today I cleared the things away that barricade me from my brushes and found solace in my 'real' work. New title page for 'I am Cat' which had fun at Frankfurt and has lots of interest, from France, Holland, Denmark and other far off cat loving lands.
Good to be painting again. 

Imagine

Imagine, two weeks on he road, three days hanging an exhibition. 
Tired.
The skies are punctuated by winter visiting flocks of birds.
Rooks sit on the wires like slow notes.
I have met so very many lovely people over the last couple of weeks.
So, I still have much to do before the opening of the exhibition next week at Oriel Y Parc ( 27th October, 2-5 and then again a little later).
Today I saw a hawk fly low over the early winter land.
Today I made a film of beautiful things with a sound track of sweeping and lovely music.
But now I am tired.
Imagine. 

Day....... not quite sure.

Ennerdale School is in a place of such wonderful beauty. All day yesterday we drove north from Shrewsbury, up and up and I read the map and found a route that travelled through the beautiful heart of the Lake District. When we arrived we were greeted with smiles and food and drink and such warmth it was just wonderful. Now, after a day of working with the children I feel tired but alive. 

As we drove here yesterday I saw signs by the roadside. Warning signs with squirrels on. Were the squirrels dangerous here? It took a while to sink in but then I realised, this is the land of the red squirrel. Now I really hope that before we leave I will see one. I have seen goldfinch and heard all kinds of birds. There are hares in the hills. The lakes mirror the sky and the wind wrinkles the water. The children make me stop and think about what I do and how. Life is good.

On Saturday we drive home, via Simply Books in Stockport where I will pick up a painting or two and sign stock for Sue. But I think I will be back.

Day 3

London. Morning, breakfast and then blogging whilst Suzanne and Brigit performed morning rituals in the shrine room below and loved the sound of bells and owls and chanting, and the click clack of pushchairs outside. Then walking through the London Street in sunshine to the offices of Frances Lincoln where I signed books and we had a meeting about works in progress then on to Foyles and Hatchards to sign books.
Next to The Illustration Cupboard for the Amnesty International event to auction and sell artwork from We Are All Born Free. I have been to the gallery before but was really knocked out by how well the whole evening went. The auction, for seven pieces of work from the book, including mine, is a silent auction and the paintings are on display at the gallery in Bury Street.



http://vimeo.com/29703706 from Bellotheque on Vimeo.

I met Jane again, and haven't seen her for years. She is still as beautiful as ever and her image in We Are All Born Free must have been one of the hardest to illustrate and is one of the most powerful pieces. I think I can speak for all those involved when I say we are all proud to have been involved in this amazing project. The chief exec of Amnesty in the UK did an amazing short  speech about the project and I will try and get a transcript of it to post. One of the things I remember from it was how he spoke of a woman in Africa. She is a champion of human rights and has lived through terrible times. When people asked her what they could do to help her and her cause she asked for copies of this book so that she and her team of people could go into schools and educate children, teach them their rights and shape a new generation who will hopefully grow up with respect for each other. Powerful.
The auction will run until 10th December, International Day of Human Rights and you can bid online or go in to the gallery to make bids and 100% of all money raised will go to Amnesty International
It was a long day, but I was so pleased and impressed with The Illustration Cupboard and the beautiful work they had on the walls and also the books, signed that they had for sale. We were so well looked after by Brigit and Suzanne, where we were staying, and Cho Cho the butterfly faced cat and Haiku the dog with extraordinarily short legs!

Day 1.

Yesterday the colours of the land were autumn and golden but the air was all summer and heat. Golden leaves fell as I drove. At my parents we talked about family long gone, a favourite uncle who had died before I was 18. He worked in an iron foundry, before the days of health a safety at work. A pattern maker. His huge hands were like drawings, each life line etched in coal dust. Strong hands, like shovels. When his son, my cousin, spoke of them there was real love in his voice. He talked of going to meet Wes from work, looking in to the foundry. "All you could see was silhouettes moving, black figures against the flames in clouds of coal dust." The dust that filled the lines of his hands. The dust that filled his lungs. So that when he was only 63 he died. He had seemed so old to me. Physically, he was like a person from another age, a 'worker' in the true sense of the word 'grafter' from an age of industry. Working class and proud, he lived for his work. And died for it. 63. And I thought at the time he was old. And I missed him so much for so many years.

Boots and bells.

My new boots, made by hand in Pembrokeshire, by Susie of Susie's Sheepskin Boots, are just beautiful.

They are moss and purple and bells and warmth and flowers and hearts and soft and strong.

And I have tentatively begun to paint for East of the Sun, although I think I will repaint the bell again. It needs to be fragile, silver, beautiful, and I need more peace of mind to paint. I have too much nonsense and lists in my head at the moment.