tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26245444007262949992024-03-22T02:49:03.509+00:00the wandering artistBlog of the artist and designer, David DalzellDavid Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-88046140883612362342024-03-22T02:26:00.000+00:002024-03-22T02:26:31.533+00:00A Tale of Two Ceremonies<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQBffjYkZnhEUzvYBOd8RbBc4L-BUg4T61VZToEjSYmHt0WCh_0MFz-AnpPjLLQXn2xAFxgVJNHPLZeTWJ23xMgs2JWBN9bbMdfkj8zvGt5NAbSFvRpXg03o0DNi9IKLZS_wcJPydPtBSknp0lwPHaOWLAhvI1mKVPF_c0OTaaeZtCUltPDPfebYLKAs/s2040/received_1140555313751217.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Group photograph of the Dalzell and Norton family and friend group in Norfolk" border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2040" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQBffjYkZnhEUzvYBOd8RbBc4L-BUg4T61VZToEjSYmHt0WCh_0MFz-AnpPjLLQXn2xAFxgVJNHPLZeTWJ23xMgs2JWBN9bbMdfkj8zvGt5NAbSFvRpXg03o0DNi9IKLZS_wcJPydPtBSknp0lwPHaOWLAhvI1mKVPF_c0OTaaeZtCUltPDPfebYLKAs/w320-h241/received_1140555313751217.jpeg" title="Perfectly Imperfect" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Perfectly Imperfect</span> </td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There are important milestones in our lives. These rocky, chiseled milestones mark the passage of our journies through life. Some come unexpectedly, whilst others are constructed. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">From birth, there are any number of road signs and rites of passages open to us. These are place holders for the changes in our direction and choices that we make. They help us gain the witnesses of our journeys. They help us acknowledge that deep need that we were here, we lived, and we had an impact. We were celebrated, even if forgotten. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">They are often firsts; from naming ceremonies, new schools, falling from bicycles, making of friends, and their departures too.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Others are more like dustily lit grandparent clocks in swirling motes of golden evening light, striking a beat to the shadowed door at corridor's end. The gentle ring of the birthday, repeated not endlessly but increasingly quickly, ushers us through. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">When it comes to the LGBT community, some milestones could not in the past be found or made, let alone passed. A road, blocked by society's mores, laws and technicalities, prevented our passage. In the past, my partner and I would not have been able to cross that barrier. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSg6gkrAdEj3fVAZwLAvPqa_0vXrlPdw7ClCnAHhEdOuPjnzqVy5IPEkjMx7GKeWTZzX7mavciLCeu6vfqSm76Hpw5HIzJpMnYFE2rQnJaJtuODZ65N_SRMNkYG5kSP-RBtOWyAq2TLJPFuUdm7HHGP4CuoJkiwcDXxpvBH9YjsH2pKceCsApObejIt40/s2860/20230814_125917.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2860" data-original-width="2311" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSg6gkrAdEj3fVAZwLAvPqa_0vXrlPdw7ClCnAHhEdOuPjnzqVy5IPEkjMx7GKeWTZzX7mavciLCeu6vfqSm76Hpw5HIzJpMnYFE2rQnJaJtuODZ65N_SRMNkYG5kSP-RBtOWyAq2TLJPFuUdm7HHGP4CuoJkiwcDXxpvBH9YjsH2pKceCsApObejIt40/s320/20230814_125917.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I am so grateful for other's past efforts. People I do not know, travelled on paths I will not have to traverse. They reduced and broke the barriers into new territory for us to explore. We now have different lives to make and histories to recreate. It's our responsibility to take their spirits with us, as we go. They are our own ancestors. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGf5a24ghajC2cNxrou42h9hoAMwqWkrT2KVJtP-BGaD2qX8sIzcABghtv1U2w_pxtQXxicsc-yc38XlDtvrRYSUMZae_4wCihyphenhyphen-dxqblSpJoa5W2pJwkYg7ztfE-E5qtKV59LmvkBgYBqY0dwMW0WI2ZyhPluh4AJL6097MRnzpCX13pGb5tzmAQamw/s1521/IMG_3484.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1521" data-original-width="1209" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGf5a24ghajC2cNxrou42h9hoAMwqWkrT2KVJtP-BGaD2qX8sIzcABghtv1U2w_pxtQXxicsc-yc38XlDtvrRYSUMZae_4wCihyphenhyphen-dxqblSpJoa5W2pJwkYg7ztfE-E5qtKV59LmvkBgYBqY0dwMW0WI2ZyhPluh4AJL6097MRnzpCX13pGb5tzmAQamw/s320/IMG_3484.HEIC" width="254" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Now our celebration of marriage had two milestones, in two countries, across two hemispheres. Quite a journey to make, and quite a few adventures during it. Two ceremonies that for us, opened and closed the proceedings. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The first, in Darwin, Australia, legally cemented that stone into place. Amongst friends and witnesses we celebrated the placement of that important foundation. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">We had two gold rings made in New Zealand as this was the place where we both met.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> A fitting tribute and bookmark to celebrate that chapter. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQtJa511sUwzhzfHQMHVdmZW3jAtfcRxmUFnuEP7Z5AVWnhps2V5OntnqDnkZb9rYRHSUmd8XMWXTil8oVMPmminfM0yekcvwjZqhY3Ly2ea9XxWp6zJbsxQlAROFsZsg-TUudjz_yshLh3zOlenEwpIxhXYLH4WC_jJtm9G3l-tQS2kYb4UbOCmFBaA/s3968/IMG_20240107_151343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2976" data-original-width="3968" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQtJa511sUwzhzfHQMHVdmZW3jAtfcRxmUFnuEP7Z5AVWnhps2V5OntnqDnkZb9rYRHSUmd8XMWXTil8oVMPmminfM0yekcvwjZqhY3Ly2ea9XxWp6zJbsxQlAROFsZsg-TUudjz_yshLh3zOlenEwpIxhXYLH4WC_jJtm9G3l-tQS2kYb4UbOCmFBaA/s320/IMG_20240107_151343.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Gold from our meeting place in New Zealand </span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The second ceremony, the 'Exchange of Rings Ceremony', was held in Hempton, Norfolk, England, and helped us chisel the words we needed to say amongst our </span><span style="font-family: arial;">family, friends and witnesses from that place from which we both started our journeys</span><span style="font-family: arial;">.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">On both days, all the people that were present; all the people who couldn't be there; all the people we have ever known, who are no longer with us, they all helped the two of us get to that precise moment, to that important milestone, whether they or we knew it our not. Through every action, influence and decision that affected us, we found ourselves there, to take that next step on our shared journey together. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">For me, that is perfectly imperfect, sublime, and divine. The celebration of things that just are as they are. The blissful feeling that anything positive, or negative in our lives that impacted on us, motivated us to get to this very moment. The realisation that mistakes do not really exist. That we're all on our own paths, and when our paths cross, it is important to pause, take stock and mark the moment. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7UtO3Pm6mxZfT8Qp5feBxGkWsRLff7C09pWlEbhHuB6SBg-HPHxMwBSpUHQRsUBT1RfrIvXBebC44zr_iqpx5OiTIG-kyqUYiZBQeOrm8kvqKnUw8veAlX12iAcl5Flk7UnKbKse9pcXha3hY1WyT7yXiPVA67WHCnXtwsT03vKq060afB1ehl6sOqNg/s4160/IMG_20240302_113533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7UtO3Pm6mxZfT8Qp5feBxGkWsRLff7C09pWlEbhHuB6SBg-HPHxMwBSpUHQRsUBT1RfrIvXBebC44zr_iqpx5OiTIG-kyqUYiZBQeOrm8kvqKnUw8veAlX12iAcl5Flk7UnKbKse9pcXha3hY1WyT7yXiPVA67WHCnXtwsT03vKq060afB1ehl6sOqNg/s320/IMG_20240302_113533.jpg" width="158" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Here's to the next stages of our journey. The good, the bad, and for better or worse, here's to that sublime feeling of being in this together. And remember that most important piece of advice. 'Keep Calm and Carry On'. </span></p>David Dalzell - The Wandering Artisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03581172473846619057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-64870895661293841402021-02-07T21:53:00.001+00:002021-02-07T21:57:59.177+00:00The art of creating during times of conscious change<p>While often it has been said that the year 2020 changed everything, I believe that each year does this. </p><p>We felt the changes more last year, and perhaps more acutely, because the effects and consequences of this particular change affected all of us more directly, and quickly. How our world is constructed, how we live, and how we maintain ourselves in it, were challenged radically. </p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Feeling at ease one day, life was about to change the next</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIWcoXrJ4SBl0E9jvVXrJkhfCXjb7prFunIV6oGn4kpc2gj_9Hdc3_WQXDSJYekcGMFEwuat26EZFuBx87HW66jtcga5md3IrwmtFgYjgQ_xVUR79tLkWRNVNgb5XU0OAR3dJTKAO9Kuc/s1920/IMG-20200914-WA0000.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIWcoXrJ4SBl0E9jvVXrJkhfCXjb7prFunIV6oGn4kpc2gj_9Hdc3_WQXDSJYekcGMFEwuat26EZFuBx87HW66jtcga5md3IrwmtFgYjgQ_xVUR79tLkWRNVNgb5XU0OAR3dJTKAO9Kuc/w225-h400/IMG-20200914-WA0000.jpeg" width="225" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br />Now, even the lions were masked.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS4XNM1Pn8COAywp7EkfEu1RGqYsjVnQE7erdvCGRGt6X-wdcvN7wxf-W4ob-7DAbPLVL9vzwNZoaZJ0hGq1r2gO4U-9NQYe76wiovfDJiwMI-GYRuU9VVe9Gsfu8IbULyPHLFhTuZweE/s3264/IMG_20201222_121009.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS4XNM1Pn8COAywp7EkfEu1RGqYsjVnQE7erdvCGRGt6X-wdcvN7wxf-W4ob-7DAbPLVL9vzwNZoaZJ0hGq1r2gO4U-9NQYe76wiovfDJiwMI-GYRuU9VVe9Gsfu8IbULyPHLFhTuZweE/w300-h400/IMG_20201222_121009.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p>And so these changes have been thrust right before our eyes. Felt viscerally in our guts.</p><p>However, change is nothing new. It happens all the time. To every person, organism, atom, planet, sun, galaxy and so on...we have just become more aware of it. More conscious of it. And perhaps this will continue to be the case as time unfolds further.</p><p>Personally, I struggled last year. As we will all have done. My struggles revolved around anxiety. Or to use it's simpler term, fear. Fear of the future; fear for my health, for my partner, my job, my art...so on, and so forth. What would life be like? Would my partner Dave get back to Australia, and if so, would he have any work, or support? Would I be able to reunite with him? And if so, when, and what would happen next?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Anxiety</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaz0wqz4xtyI95M6KeukXZrL_vUBNxrgZ2BQfXhyphenhyphen8Ifv_Y6SAjVQefjnsqZBjf4vgYMqLEm5l9O7A0I2ZIhj_fReg4VHz4H7S8LRfN9T83hSdDXH7AqMZjEPUA6v9yGZ_gmsRrMynETkw/s3690/IMG_20201112_163122.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3690" data-original-width="2829" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaz0wqz4xtyI95M6KeukXZrL_vUBNxrgZ2BQfXhyphenhyphen8Ifv_Y6SAjVQefjnsqZBjf4vgYMqLEm5l9O7A0I2ZIhj_fReg4VHz4H7S8LRfN9T83hSdDXH7AqMZjEPUA6v9yGZ_gmsRrMynETkw/w306-h400/IMG_20201112_163122.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>I realised that I had felt all this before. A wave of it. Over four years ago. At the start of my new phase in life, giving up my job, selling my house, and launching myself off in a motor home. That's what <a href="http://david-dalzell.blogspot.com/2016/04/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">started this blog</span></a>.</p><p>I felt huge anxiety at the time. What will the future be like? Will I be OK? Will I ever get a job again? Where will I live in the end? Where on earth will I end up? What the hell was I doing?</p><p>At that time and this, after everything had fallen away from me, except the few possessions I had left, I returned to repeated pattern. Go somewhere new. Learn something new. Create something new. It really doesn't matter what. Move. Instead of just feeling that emotion. Remember what the word actually means. To emote - to move. Fueling my emotions with worry ain't gonna help David, and you've made your decision now, so regret is useless. So don't keep feeling the emotion - channel it.</p><p>And this was doubly important now. Because there was another feeling that was growing and felt more frequently during all this. Anger. Or when I say anger, what I really mean is rage. A lot of rage. And I know, after many years, that this emotion is linked very closely to loss. It covers it. Loss of loved ones, loss of face, loss of control, loss of possession, loss of freedom. When I feel it, it's like I become gripped by a fire breathing serpent, or dragon. It is quite debilitating, and can be a bit scary for me and others. So time to deal with it. </p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">When Anger Strikes</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUnKscE3oHE9iTCThhiHzTQ9CXTaJRpVDbkqjkjqTMbyF3uD-lWqJyj-T2SBjIG-QvEva3vM0RDucZjL_Hg_TvYHmRcFEUpIRLTmevDnRE2hlkUGcl3rfKySsjIa2AHkFpN1Oqog8HQQ/s2048/IMG_20201112_163030.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Dragon representing anger" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1323" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUnKscE3oHE9iTCThhiHzTQ9CXTaJRpVDbkqjkjqTMbyF3uD-lWqJyj-T2SBjIG-QvEva3vM0RDucZjL_Hg_TvYHmRcFEUpIRLTmevDnRE2hlkUGcl3rfKySsjIa2AHkFpN1Oqog8HQQ/w259-h400/IMG_20201112_163030.jpg" title="When anger strikes" width="259" /></a></div><br /><p>Easier said than done. I'd been getting help using a 6 week course called 'mental fitness during times of uncertainty', with help from my friend and coach <a href="http://www.anitasauvage.com/"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Anita Sauvage</span></a>, and it had helped kick start me again. Totally shifting my view, and really helping me. There have been huge challenges of course, and I now go back and try my best to give myself a break, show myself some compassion, and not worry that I am still learning. That I, and everything around me, is imperfect. And that is alright. After the course, I had felt a deep shift in perspective; that after reflecting, has very much stuck with me.</p><p>If change is everywhere, and always, why not benefit from it? Can we, instead of sitting still with it, not use the movement of anxiety and fear and rub at Aladdin's lamp, to call the genie?</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Calling the re-use and re-cycle Genie to deal with change</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0tfZu3gXOSxRPgqSWhfViqRm7te6abmIq-uHtLjcwkwwy7_ZTrRsRoDdzqWrzRmOcUNcoKb9A4SiCc_IVAsDArjtYx_N10QWCn6bTFHSMyCViyOD9IDKquX_Edh6D0t25RUcK1AZWV34/s2048/IMG_20201123_133310.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0tfZu3gXOSxRPgqSWhfViqRm7te6abmIq-uHtLjcwkwwy7_ZTrRsRoDdzqWrzRmOcUNcoKb9A4SiCc_IVAsDArjtYx_N10QWCn6bTFHSMyCViyOD9IDKquX_Edh6D0t25RUcK1AZWV34/w300-h400/IMG_20201123_133310.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>And of course, when change happens, it isn't always what you might expect. This time, lock down was repeatedly happening. Lock down?!? Sorry, what? So going anywhere now more constricted than previous years. What next? The world was getting so much smaller. OK, to go somewhere meant local, and during exercise only. Perfect.</p><p>Yes, perfect. Spring meant elderflowers. Summer meant left over, going to waste, citrus fruit. Autumn meant local berries, hips, haws, and fruits. Winter meant sloes! Those lovely berry gifts given as preparation for the long sleep over and quietness of the cold time, whilst we wait for spring.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">My Dave in spring</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiofhy_i7iZQ6SGQ9urfFWFYI15d3gg6cYYRs_SLZB4drEsP35m9E23NGS_sLnh9c3jtLy8I_tg4I-l5-bzfbuZ1PNmsLO6SkuCUEEEchO4ChVD0gT1Ufy5qRiqi1f9NL7CLw2P0Ccbkqo/s2048/DSC_2162.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiofhy_i7iZQ6SGQ9urfFWFYI15d3gg6cYYRs_SLZB4drEsP35m9E23NGS_sLnh9c3jtLy8I_tg4I-l5-bzfbuZ1PNmsLO6SkuCUEEEchO4ChVD0gT1Ufy5qRiqi1f9NL7CLw2P0Ccbkqo/w400-h300/DSC_2162.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I looked and remembered things were brief. Fleeting, and apt to change.</p><p>That other sign of spring, and my latest art commission, which I ended up naming 'The impermanence of the cherry', was teaching me that.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">'The impermanence of the cherry', oil on board by David Dalzell</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlwWZ7hKbmR5yhbhXMMSvuWn21vqjLoFW6aD3sDcRBLytiNfMTSeuU3UvpSg5tNlmAjXnPC7s0heLAzJNzZPEzbnjJQSmo9Oo1xO99vCtHvEoRx77DgsfS4EHAfNOURUpP5EqPIjLEM-8/s1600/IMG-20200703-WA0000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlwWZ7hKbmR5yhbhXMMSvuWn21vqjLoFW6aD3sDcRBLytiNfMTSeuU3UvpSg5tNlmAjXnPC7s0heLAzJNzZPEzbnjJQSmo9Oo1xO99vCtHvEoRx77DgsfS4EHAfNOURUpP5EqPIjLEM-8/w400-h266/IMG-20200703-WA0000.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Better grasp the nettle now, before you can't make tea from it, and time to develop my foraging skills to make more use of the plentiful harvest. </p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Nature's bounty</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvaeRWPovRJqyGQ5rZKp1IGA5hxxe_DVbN6ZYwEpquUQQI8Uf_iDrYWs203hAxCV5uG0p_qwwDxbnXmtJlgX8RVCaFtiiVK5gcZzjcuIDj1P0uO_eX80G9Kw75btygJ8BBtNMas-CG_E/s2048/IMG_20200907_184000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvaeRWPovRJqyGQ5rZKp1IGA5hxxe_DVbN6ZYwEpquUQQI8Uf_iDrYWs203hAxCV5uG0p_qwwDxbnXmtJlgX8RVCaFtiiVK5gcZzjcuIDj1P0uO_eX80G9Kw75btygJ8BBtNMas-CG_E/w300-h400/IMG_20200907_184000.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>The list grew. Cordial, jellies, chutneys, pickles, stewed fruit, pies and oh yes, alcohol! I'm currently drinking a glass of the 2020 sloe gin, and you know what? That year did produce some good things. Some terrifying, anxiety producing, grief inflicting things. A great deal of them. There were also some good things too. I will not be the same again because of that year. But then, I will not be the same tomorrow either.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Pickling</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjijdHThfOdPoQ25i6OjNqyQC-gNa8uOQ3LCdfmKDgxP7ZnApwLrH9aMkVN-ilQ-vH0PbhAXH7TUw4Gi3ZlsAYK46cIl01fXEyROiVasR5R9-OotYwgH9HupcuYKfsYf03_1HkFdq4dJec/s2048/IMG_20201117_194057.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjijdHThfOdPoQ25i6OjNqyQC-gNa8uOQ3LCdfmKDgxP7ZnApwLrH9aMkVN-ilQ-vH0PbhAXH7TUw4Gi3ZlsAYK46cIl01fXEyROiVasR5R9-OotYwgH9HupcuYKfsYf03_1HkFdq4dJec/s320/IMG_20201117_194057.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Marmalade for breakfast</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3R78YlJMWzJHhSilDjAxG6A1PbQJPpTCJHP7hnzIAJl7JODqRVvMwsYSBaptGna5DT3WzADCVOsQoaNz8IksgvYN5h6iqOPo5CXxvlsA8GseDvr8Fucary7s9Qr66_yJ2Q7AHm-4-PLU/s2048/IMG_20201116_095732.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3R78YlJMWzJHhSilDjAxG6A1PbQJPpTCJHP7hnzIAJl7JODqRVvMwsYSBaptGna5DT3WzADCVOsQoaNz8IksgvYN5h6iqOPo5CXxvlsA8GseDvr8Fucary7s9Qr66_yJ2Q7AHm-4-PLU/s320/IMG_20201116_095732.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Winter night and sloe gin!</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDL25i4A6g8XSAtz26fvdx8PDyHXutBH_d3_WrtqFpaLCtNsxfTIAtjjm7U7MAGCH3xKYyUQ8WPIkRHsTX5zy0tinr-slkYAt8fpTrtngELcNo0aA_CW6owCK6_iU2VZwXqDDtdHrOXlo/s2048/IMG_20210207_191817.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDL25i4A6g8XSAtz26fvdx8PDyHXutBH_d3_WrtqFpaLCtNsxfTIAtjjm7U7MAGCH3xKYyUQ8WPIkRHsTX5zy0tinr-slkYAt8fpTrtngELcNo0aA_CW6owCK6_iU2VZwXqDDtdHrOXlo/s320/IMG_20210207_191817.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>Taking time is important. The more time I take to look, the more I see. The more I move, the more I create. The more I learn. The more things change around me, the more I change what I am doing. </p><p>Going through the last year, I grew conscious of that fact we tend to forget. Seasons come and go. Change happens. All the time. The good, the bad...everything.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Spring gives way to summer</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6VBmVlZ-Zd7foMl124nWi54m6H5v2FFgdTUIlSZhMFttpcBt1FehEsEmz9Dd_Y8UzDro1J3r1RW7s8PHD3aCbpqWUVFFuatiU9Z4dL1ByVXsCSJhaxZ07fkYn_qFt0O7jNghmPcTZRTo/s2048/DSC_2228.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6VBmVlZ-Zd7foMl124nWi54m6H5v2FFgdTUIlSZhMFttpcBt1FehEsEmz9Dd_Y8UzDro1J3r1RW7s8PHD3aCbpqWUVFFuatiU9Z4dL1ByVXsCSJhaxZ07fkYn_qFt0O7jNghmPcTZRTo/w225-h400/DSC_2228.JPG" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Summer ebbs into autumn</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKUXp3gX-8xcSU434Shlbi8dU_Y3nBPmgayQAODrg5CFBZXJWXRnVBZaZJWcEjzZUlnReL3NtPBqVkvka1915Ok3eqjKcJRbYIIlER8pR-WSjx75YVN0q3se09V0eExflgFINMBETL4I/s2048/IMG_20201115_155959.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKUXp3gX-8xcSU434Shlbi8dU_Y3nBPmgayQAODrg5CFBZXJWXRnVBZaZJWcEjzZUlnReL3NtPBqVkvka1915Ok3eqjKcJRbYIIlER8pR-WSjx75YVN0q3se09V0eExflgFINMBETL4I/w400-h300/IMG_20201115_155959.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And winter grips, before easing back into spring...</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtQhyR-uQzi-syz9lexkyOjONypQ51egN-4p4s9xN16kTUQfjKxcz1cmZS9p-QlkiNaoZEJBVNp3bRQaR_FJ8KiKULXzm4tLXbcsH6_TaCFaKekQXzjmSqifloTkqzLoiU5FZ8HVehbE/s2048/IMG_20201208_111228.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtQhyR-uQzi-syz9lexkyOjONypQ51egN-4p4s9xN16kTUQfjKxcz1cmZS9p-QlkiNaoZEJBVNp3bRQaR_FJ8KiKULXzm4tLXbcsH6_TaCFaKekQXzjmSqifloTkqzLoiU5FZ8HVehbE/w400-h300/IMG_20201208_111228.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>We live in a time where we're more dissociated from seasonal change, and natural rhythms. </p><p>We're convinced that there are now foods we need all of the time; we've lost a certain amount of appreciation, and anticipation in our lives. </p><p>More importantly, we are now more disconnected from change. It is a huge shock, as we try to control our world more and more, to find out we can't and that we are not in control at all, and change will happen whether we like it or not. </p><p>Whatever life changes into, we can always move, create, and learn.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Go where the breeze takes you, and build with what you find</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0o6vWcPnO8Z7WQg2ryDFpcBCMKmh_fX02rtI0NRct8scnRKVyfUoC7olHtsfKMt8xXzFxsz-H5fOMA7PNg1NW9Rt5uMLv2Nuckq3Dn0yNRgFQzUVXljC2qEFKC0S1VYMK7Fj0x-Ad-U/s2048/IMG_20201129_112326.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0o6vWcPnO8Z7WQg2ryDFpcBCMKmh_fX02rtI0NRct8scnRKVyfUoC7olHtsfKMt8xXzFxsz-H5fOMA7PNg1NW9Rt5uMLv2Nuckq3Dn0yNRgFQzUVXljC2qEFKC0S1VYMK7Fj0x-Ad-U/w300-h400/IMG_20201129_112326.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p>Personally, I think my goal is to learn how to deal with this change. Live with it. </p><p>And reach for a glass of sloe gin!</p><p style="text-align: center;">Then...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjBiHxd_DVytVhv2nua5iJz3twuBHnlkITmGKiOv4ZOBYO9BD3Xy3RkQbYwkh_f-45ZF0bcp1Q40z1E3NgvjNSAo6Kz1PZaeRy0LY0MlJi8pnyNQBKWuSJwY5FCUk9eSzfnXOPiK0SMpE/s2048/IMG_20201129_095000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjBiHxd_DVytVhv2nua5iJz3twuBHnlkITmGKiOv4ZOBYO9BD3Xy3RkQbYwkh_f-45ZF0bcp1Q40z1E3NgvjNSAo6Kz1PZaeRy0LY0MlJi8pnyNQBKWuSJwY5FCUk9eSzfnXOPiK0SMpE/w300-h400/IMG_20201129_095000.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And now..</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzo4vrvVM61-7cMHuXHKqUAwvRwmgmcmzxIGSsgX_EZnX7Yh77FhGHwesgcgFn7F_z6O4xlSSWg20JAgqN3fYKtGYKyB3DYEzzaqJ7W0Qvxp6kRz6rQfgxTOHEDTHnc2EEkIhyphenhypheniLF5_M/s2048/IMG_20201227_124124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzo4vrvVM61-7cMHuXHKqUAwvRwmgmcmzxIGSsgX_EZnX7Yh77FhGHwesgcgFn7F_z6O4xlSSWg20JAgqN3fYKtGYKyB3DYEzzaqJ7W0Qvxp6kRz6rQfgxTOHEDTHnc2EEkIhyphenhypheniLF5_M/w400-h300/IMG_20201227_124124.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>All images by the artist (except the school photo, and I have no idea who they were).</p>David Dalzell - The Wandering Artisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03581172473846619057noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-13839011349614021852020-08-12T17:28:00.002+01:002020-08-12T17:28:18.707+01:00Small steps to Giant Country<p>Environmental issues are always in the forefront of my mind. Now, more than ever. </p><p>My background was as an environmental applied biologist. I researched as an aquatic ecotoxicologist, before slowly redirecting myself as a designer and artist. </p><p>My first dream as a child was to be the world's first practicing xenobiologist on other planets, until it occurred to me that the universe of Star Trek had not quite been realised on earth yet, and we could not comfortably travel to other planets.</p><p>My second childhood dream was to be a tree warden, after reading J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. I then realised I was not an Ent. Quite a shock.</p><p>So, I didn't pursue that either, but our past does not leave us.</p><p>We take it with us, and somehow incorporate it into who we are now. I know that my values and passions and instincts are still entwined within the natural world, and connected to our place, impact and responsibility for our health and the health of the planet, whether I explore that as a biological researcher, a NHS graphic designer, an artist or as an individual. </p><p>I know that my artistic subject matter often comes back to the natural environment, and our impact on our natural world. And although I couldn't get from planet to planet, I did not give up on my dream of travelling from world to world, whilst exploring different countries and cultures on this, our most precious planet.</p><p>So with all that background, feeding my intuition, when I saw three pods from a Royal Poinciana (<i>Delonix Regia</i>), also known as Flamboyant or more commonly Flame tree in Parap, a suburb of Darwin, at the Top End of the Northern Territory, Australia, my imagination took flight. </p><p>The flame tree is part of the bean family, Fabaceae. It has fern-like leaves and the most flamboyant orange/scarlet flowers.</p><p>I took the opportunity to be one of those people who begin to explore what I could do, personally, no matter how small that action may be.</p><p>The first step was to pick up three bean pods from the current crop. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1YNFWo-a836ju-mR_x9qtw-CjnVBRuhgIXeYEvEXqq-Qahi0XLhzD3ZEmIt0iErjxSNWYBtBc51jgkzbNv3dzGtUVMZVlbR_947cmYdltkSmnND69oTHMAc1XlwOVP-huHMbaLDCZHE4R/s1024/IMG-20200812-WA0005.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1YNFWo-a836ju-mR_x9qtw-CjnVBRuhgIXeYEvEXqq-Qahi0XLhzD3ZEmIt0iErjxSNWYBtBc51jgkzbNv3dzGtUVMZVlbR_947cmYdltkSmnND69oTHMAc1XlwOVP-huHMbaLDCZHE4R/w384-h512/IMG-20200812-WA0005.jpg" width="384" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finding bean pods of the Flame Tree in Parap</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>Having selected a few beans from the pods, these were kept in Dave's fridge, until we got some growing media, in some pretty large pots. We had nine beans in total. This was at the beginning of 2018's dry season. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsLivlpPQjaKsZeJaaEn9ufBt2nWqyWKdccx2m6YZN3syG9QVs9v-FTlVxNMiD4TWN_6fLWB_UsJWVWy_0XiRMvA_rnuCf-skwSgzIK6cpGfTuis-fZ7h4_z-IGjsCSf44g0J8BA_84FBj/s2048/DSC_1950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsLivlpPQjaKsZeJaaEn9ufBt2nWqyWKdccx2m6YZN3syG9QVs9v-FTlVxNMiD4TWN_6fLWB_UsJWVWy_0XiRMvA_rnuCf-skwSgzIK6cpGfTuis-fZ7h4_z-IGjsCSf44g0J8BA_84FBj/w281-h500/DSC_1950.JPG" width="281" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The flame tree's bean pods</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>I then left Australia and whilst away, Dave watered them. At the end of six months we had... NOTHING. </p><p>Not a single thing. Oh come on. Does nature not want our help or what? Ok, so things may not work the first time around, but my wild imaginings, and magic beans not-withstanding, of a massive tree climbing all the way to giant country were being sorely tested!</p><p>The project was put on hold for a while, during the annual trek to New Zealand to wait out the wet season and so nature was left to do her thing, without this impatient expectation from humans, and copiously watered the pots without us. She is quite self reliant. </p><p>On our return, the beans had sprouted... </p><p>Ok, so 9 months were needed in the end, not 6 months as Google had assured us. What was up with the world? Perhaps mother nature is not so hard wired into our preferred global search engine to so readily give up her secrets. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxtcMWiEftfPGridQGb7Qo26vuyWs2trPGfUyQd2u_xfGp6xVnBiS7dFZab5JWbgUDZk2wcSguIOVtn1DKo3gaDZAjwtYiTXQVQtD5mk1KyNiLh-NB0P-ov4w2-3JDKENuZMdX5q7I06Al/s1600/IMG-20190501-WA0001.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="901" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxtcMWiEftfPGridQGb7Qo26vuyWs2trPGfUyQd2u_xfGp6xVnBiS7dFZab5JWbgUDZk2wcSguIOVtn1DKo3gaDZAjwtYiTXQVQtD5mk1KyNiLh-NB0P-ov4w2-3JDKENuZMdX5q7I06Al/w281-h500/IMG-20190501-WA0001.jpg" width="281" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny dicotyledon seedlings</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>By the end of the wet season in 2019, we had two seedlings. And their growth rate in the tropics is quite quick. This had not occurred to me, being used to a more temperate climate. It's pretty amazing to see the growth of things like bananas, and papayas and such.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5SUOQmRbZwWr7XCW7BQPl_4kt_VB4m9S-03Ki2US0VNof6uSeNLZlt9xUrEGeFdGk33s1m387PnddLEN5wY2S53MqNxjaiG94_8JaJLc4o8hEMC2nw6Ly7Njb1nOfddpFuZ5CmntHxGct/s1600/IMG-20190502-WA0000.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="901" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5SUOQmRbZwWr7XCW7BQPl_4kt_VB4m9S-03Ki2US0VNof6uSeNLZlt9xUrEGeFdGk33s1m387PnddLEN5wY2S53MqNxjaiG94_8JaJLc4o8hEMC2nw6Ly7Njb1nOfddpFuZ5CmntHxGct/s640/IMG-20190502-WA0000.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quickly growing seedlings<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>By the time we got to the end of the dry season 2019, the two saplings were ready to plant. So we took them back to Parap, and planted them. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrl4WReHaNb5ng0JUmZ3uHZ4Pm-0VKL5KxN8Piggv1_9IkPrEzpGcaAG3c61BNQkK3l_PZm8kVOkOZEllYGf8ToTMeMGLL9m1iIjDzwWrwhA4AY0_yKYzwfPuHNOnBVdcMROUC0A_7kon/s1024/IMG-20200812-WA0004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrl4WReHaNb5ng0JUmZ3uHZ4Pm-0VKL5KxN8Piggv1_9IkPrEzpGcaAG3c61BNQkK3l_PZm8kVOkOZEllYGf8ToTMeMGLL9m1iIjDzwWrwhA4AY0_yKYzwfPuHNOnBVdcMROUC0A_7kon/s640/IMG-20200812-WA0004.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Transplanting the saplings<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>No small task, given we had to move two, six foot saplings across town in the motorhome, in two very heavy pots, in very hot and humid weather. One of the saplings didn't hold up to the reduced water, or transplantation, or the new environment. However, the second did well, and grew rapidly. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQAwAE32E1-Eaj_e1ABfNp0FHRWLCS_Q1QLR3MLYq5hJzqJF3UOL2-4L-hJauUWeKb5e9KuOZm8xX1DHum6ChXOkGV30xCg-M4OAckLvoy9TECEWePljw15DQHbhxKWum3cOkAf6v3h0NP/s1024/IMG-20200812-WA0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQAwAE32E1-Eaj_e1ABfNp0FHRWLCS_Q1QLR3MLYq5hJzqJF3UOL2-4L-hJauUWeKb5e9KuOZm8xX1DHum6ChXOkGV30xCg-M4OAckLvoy9TECEWePljw15DQHbhxKWum3cOkAf6v3h0NP/w512-h384/IMG-20200812-WA0003.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Planting day</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>If its root system can take, it should hopefully survive the next wet, with its cyclonic winds... It need not be supported, as this challenge - the force of the winds, is what has led to trees like this growing strong enough to flex, and grow the root systems necessary to flourish. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVR6lqgiIIl7rR5MgvkEpeC2VF4NPklqysI9h_lwYN71KKxPWSseY-z_gKuVN3Q6ztc0xNJfBiuA2J_95c1lUPb8k9oHcp4S1BESVBTA-VutyF4T9Bg20Hi4lwSuDbjxzyOLsrgiBN-Sqj/s1125/IMG_20200811_174846_966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="900" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVR6lqgiIIl7rR5MgvkEpeC2VF4NPklqysI9h_lwYN71KKxPWSseY-z_gKuVN3Q6ztc0xNJfBiuA2J_95c1lUPb8k9oHcp4S1BESVBTA-VutyF4T9Bg20Hi4lwSuDbjxzyOLsrgiBN-Sqj/w410-h512/IMG_20200811_174846_966.jpg" width="410" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking hold</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>The flame tree is doing quite well, and I look forward to the time that I can look on it again in person. At time of writing we are coming out of lockdown in the UK, after the initial, horrifying battering of the COVID-19 pandemic, where many dreams lie in tatters. A human cyclonic-forced storm if ever I witnessed one. </p><p>Our roots are deep however, and I am sure we can weather this.</p><p>I try to remember this saplings' beginnings as I go through life's challenges myself. </p><p>There will be many more beans. And certainly Australia and the planet need reforestation to help with both climate change and species survival, including our own. </p><p>Just think. If each one of us planted just one tree...what would be the impact on our planet. And us. </p><p>Small steps indeed, but they might just get us to Giant Country.</p>David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-84687063496115423052020-01-25T04:22:00.000+00:002020-02-01T10:04:12.480+00:00Where the Bloody Hell Are Ya?Ok, so not such a polite title, but then, as things stand, it takes a lot to get people's attention. Even more so when online.<br />
<br />
Also, this is a tag line for an advertising campaign. A $180 million advertising campaign launched by Tourism Australia in 2006, under the supervision of Australia's current Prime Minister, Scott Morrison. A Prime Minister who decided to go to Hawaii, when his country was burning.<br />
<br />
'Where the Bloody Hell Are Ya?' formed the premise for broadcasting the wonders of Australia's countryside. A countryside that started burning much earlier in the summer season in the south of the continent, and much further than usual.<br />
<br />
Apparent contributing factors to this appeared to be long dry months of drought for at least 3 years; winds; over use of water; non-clearance of bush to manage fires, and a dipole over the Indian Ocean.<br />
<br />
And it also seemed that it may be the unmentionable. Shh, did someone say climate change?<br />
<br />
In Australia, it seems it is never the time to mention climate change.<br />
<br />
No matter what happens. Be it fire, drought, or extremes of temperature and weather...now is not the time to discuss climate change.<br />
<br />
I will not go into my own personal views. Humanity, and humanity's learning, is young. Mistakes are needed when growing, and to learn.<br />
<br />
But my emotional response to this, and to the voiceless, needs an expression.<br />
<br />
Loss of human life, especially preventable death, is tragic, and awful. Loss of property is also difficult to bear, although materially, of less importance.<br />
<br />
Loss of life for all those other creatures sharing this space...that indeed, are attempting to cope and survive with everything that we inflict upon it, needs also to be acknowledged.<br />
<br />
Hence, I decided that my artwork, for submission into <a href="https://www.darwinvisualarts.com.au/climate-member-show" target="_blank">Darwin Visual Arts Association members' Climate Change Exhibition</a>, 31 Jan - 22 Feb 2020, would use the iconic koala.<br />
<br />
Fewer things say the fragile nature of Australia's wildlife, quite like the koala. Treated in such a way as to appear as an exhibit. Stuffed, materialistically, as if in a museum...shown as if this is a precious exhibit. Perhaps even extinct. Indeed, such are the low numbers of the koala, that it is now considered to be functionally extinct in the wild. Setting aside reasons for these fires, this loss of life appears to be endangering the very existence of these creatures. Aboriginal Australians consider themselves to be custodians of the land, rather than consumers or owners...is there much to learn here?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-3htl6TiMoiGgqRfj7A2Tq4XBEuXe5yTnudpsYTp6Vr7m21jOlcl5GoYpcnHVQKMlHVzTL1abK1FPtF0GEYdp4IUa-uDHAgIrSFNozhp07Zw_bo5VsEF0uOcEEalD38jOwvGs4AT31_r/s1600/where-the-bloody-hell-are-ya-by-david-dalzell-2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1207" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-3htl6TiMoiGgqRfj7A2Tq4XBEuXe5yTnudpsYTp6Vr7m21jOlcl5GoYpcnHVQKMlHVzTL1abK1FPtF0GEYdp4IUa-uDHAgIrSFNozhp07Zw_bo5VsEF0uOcEEalD38jOwvGs4AT31_r/s640/where-the-bloody-hell-are-ya-by-david-dalzell-2020.jpg" width="481" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where the Bloody Hell Are Ya?<br />
Prize winning entry<br />
Exhibited in Darwin Visual Arts Association Members' Climate Exhibition,<br />
31 Jan - 22 Feb 2020<br />
1/8 McMinn Street, Darwin, Northern Territory<br />
<br />
Darwin City Light Box Exhibition - from May 2020 </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
One can imagine too, that this is a gift. For services rendered within government. An acknowledgement for all the hard work. And inside the bell jar? A fire starts.<br />
<br />
An imagined mother, carrying her child, whilst all around her, the fire spreads.<br />
<br />
And emblazoned on the brass plate, the words 'Where the Bloody Hell Are Ya?'<br />
<br />David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-33418521746602792972019-10-17T20:44:00.000+01:002019-10-18T09:07:17.825+01:00So what's a Scottish Saltire doing on a Norfolk village sign?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4Kd7fPOvnYwL2BMM2VvKzmz_Y2JuPksCHVJRhz30MvoM3c1tGd5qGBP-wikVfIGyGxKAwdG5Rb4uMhwp9s_20jEUdDhkFzN0DKR4ARFtEpU1yd4X5Sjz7Ng4kTBegCWFuMinR-swU_l0/s1600/saltire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="432" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4Kd7fPOvnYwL2BMM2VvKzmz_Y2JuPksCHVJRhz30MvoM3c1tGd5qGBP-wikVfIGyGxKAwdG5Rb4uMhwp9s_20jEUdDhkFzN0DKR4ARFtEpU1yd4X5Sjz7Ng4kTBegCWFuMinR-swU_l0/s320/saltire.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Sometimes art projects take us on journeys we are not expecting. They lead us along the threads of history and we learn a great deal in the process. Not just in the practice of the art itself.<br />
<br />
Commissioned as the artist to repaint and renovate Thursford village's unique sign, there was a question to puzzle over. A mystery to solve.<br />
<br />
Why was there a Saltire on the top of a tiny wee village in Norfolk, England. Whilst pitching the new designs to the Parish, and Parish Council, enlightenment and further mystery were just around the corner.<br />
<br />
Was the flag signifying St Andrew's Cross? St Andrew's Church certainly helped weave that idea into place.<br />
<br />
So far, so logical.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkOWkvWxsKyw8pPf9moav3OQQq9-5a7wkNc6w-BHklP4KOYkiG_FEMuKYoCk-vOXuKBKL_LMGekfhIcA9UJOBvy25ABBHVQTDiZ3ia18qz5DECdr5FIVYnZM9WVLQbJxOXMYymEhwW8no/s1600/DSC_1685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkOWkvWxsKyw8pPf9moav3OQQq9-5a7wkNc6w-BHklP4KOYkiG_FEMuKYoCk-vOXuKBKL_LMGekfhIcA9UJOBvy25ABBHVQTDiZ3ia18qz5DECdr5FIVYnZM9WVLQbJxOXMYymEhwW8no/s400/DSC_1685.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 'before the renovation' shot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But to have a Scottish flag atop the village sign of a southern English village?<br />
<br />
Why not the St George's Cross?<br />
<br />
Mysteries abound in material legacies like village signs. The years pass on. Memories dwindle into gossamer. They blow away on the winds, only to settle in unlikely places.<br />
<br />
There are such threads in Thursford. The family Ross - there for generations now. Indeed, the clan name of Dalzell drifted in from Motherwell, Glasgow. Wandering in for different reasons. Staying for different times. Scottish farmers in the previous two centuries. And then an Irish Royal Air Force worker in the last.<br />
<br />
Thursford is the name of a small village in North Norfolk, England.<br />
<br />
There are other names, all with significance.<br />
<br />
The Scott-Chadds. These are people who took ownership of the somewhat grand Thursford Hall in yesteryear. They are shown now with the shield and falcon crest in the centre of each side. A proud beginning to this sign's legacy, though not the beginning to the village's. That was here before then.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW_wmMtDqrGiB-SB-1C-N_xYlhkqvaMiuHRNqFvxtX7StGG276-GqQyT24WVXJmtyWL5ODFTjdldTNynW3fqgaaRAyMpKUdQHmxyKgW0LZUcolZiYTdsiKHVnD6C6tWIeiT56EMkgw9vHq/s1600/DSC_1767.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW_wmMtDqrGiB-SB-1C-N_xYlhkqvaMiuHRNqFvxtX7StGG276-GqQyT24WVXJmtyWL5ODFTjdldTNynW3fqgaaRAyMpKUdQHmxyKgW0LZUcolZiYTdsiKHVnD6C6tWIeiT56EMkgw9vHq/s400/DSC_1767.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Repainting the crest of the Scott-Chadds</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfqP8mbuQyqoYe1xKUO3cCcoKQn2QUaEFBHn8JOqqUhUqgTNCtrHX20UNzVBuW1P4kce7ujUF-cTB8GuC-zBAB-N12eFcuI2AcXurwllxxYGIKAWvGJtgpc1g_N5om8aWJB0_saVHg8IJ8/s1600/flacon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfqP8mbuQyqoYe1xKUO3cCcoKQn2QUaEFBHn8JOqqUhUqgTNCtrHX20UNzVBuW1P4kce7ujUF-cTB8GuC-zBAB-N12eFcuI2AcXurwllxxYGIKAWvGJtgpc1g_N5om8aWJB0_saVHg8IJ8/s400/flacon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New, proud Falcon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Miss Eliza Goddard - school mistress. Listed when the school was founded in 1862. Placed here, and perhaps helping to redress the absence of many women's names in Norfolk history. How many children's feet patted up the road, heads full of learning. Their journeying and their playing in those misty days, aided by the efforts of this one woman.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZkjaW6j2e809qm3dCWuR4hbNrrN50JVz9_rlZZmuMU3tEa5aS9wrazexW08IkE5TCdLknW0OuPXN31R3Efv1I-mqdU6E2PoJfbBfT-ZLG69VyTx-CRtH1XGnDJUmYxG_ni8ASRuJsQx5/s1600/DSC_1892.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZkjaW6j2e809qm3dCWuR4hbNrrN50JVz9_rlZZmuMU3tEa5aS9wrazexW08IkE5TCdLknW0OuPXN31R3Efv1I-mqdU6E2PoJfbBfT-ZLG69VyTx-CRtH1XGnDJUmYxG_ni8ASRuJsQx5/s400/DSC_1892.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First school mistress of the newly founded school, in 1862</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Charlie Plumbly - farmer, whose Norfolk was and continues to be the bread basket of England. A family fully connected to the land, even today. Forming and maintaining such deep foundations.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkng2UW4bxZL9CHs4fBCZkq_ssJWMDLhq12UYRbuBle86ozltMzZpIsyj2yzHQTUQ-8PJ56clDaUlIPBxxAAHVQlEznCdsGpE8c6kbGFb-FamHEw01VwyvM9vbU7ZJe9jlL4s-ovPvzj6h/s1600/DSC_1890.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkng2UW4bxZL9CHs4fBCZkq_ssJWMDLhq12UYRbuBle86ozltMzZpIsyj2yzHQTUQ-8PJ56clDaUlIPBxxAAHVQlEznCdsGpE8c6kbGFb-FamHEw01VwyvM9vbU7ZJe9jlL4s-ovPvzj6h/s400/DSC_1890.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The more traditional methods, keeping us fit, strong, and helping the roses??</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
These shades of the past, connected to the living of the present. And in one very real way, in the guise of Cricket and Vamus.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYF8V2JECpPidoSkwPR0OCdtAOp7mkUlmCWYZIAM3ZUZOQZ532t3kJmykS3I8a_PFahMCbuhKBnmUGJFRXJcf222mCOPOfeAcP3vBap45mimt9XJfUdnZMhY67X7WdFglmNRRQmC1Bmfj7/s1600/DSC_1794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYF8V2JECpPidoSkwPR0OCdtAOp7mkUlmCWYZIAM3ZUZOQZ532t3kJmykS3I8a_PFahMCbuhKBnmUGJFRXJcf222mCOPOfeAcP3vBap45mimt9XJfUdnZMhY67X7WdFglmNRRQmC1Bmfj7/s400/DSC_1794.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vamus and Cricket, slightly behind with his white socks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
These are the horses at Thursford Castle. Of today. They are cared for by Sally and Mark Hickling, who kindly allowed them to pose for research material. Such animals have been as important a part of this village in previous centuries as the women and men of the place. Returned to their traditional duties. Back before a cart, and a plough.<br />
<br />
Again, using their sustainable energy, even if just in this picture.<br />
<br />
Then closer to now. George Cushing, Minnie Cushing, Harry Bushell. Progressing the connections from horse to machine with a love of steam. Thursford's traction engine and historical legacy abounds to this day. You can almost hear the clatter; feel the vibration.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyINoxtN4Poxwh8IxJN5PpdX-FIhqtAlJkNKKEoPrRhmbOWE6q6aCm37iyjJVYsALAqg8iqT2x9pmw7q3dqSse1bPheq2s_wePH7Z8L0cjqQvI99AH7aKbP0AAvoRxCQYqMR94jzwdsKir/s1600/DSC_1889.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyINoxtN4Poxwh8IxJN5PpdX-FIhqtAlJkNKKEoPrRhmbOWE6q6aCm37iyjJVYsALAqg8iqT2x9pmw7q3dqSse1bPheq2s_wePH7Z8L0cjqQvI99AH7aKbP0AAvoRxCQYqMR94jzwdsKir/s400/DSC_1889.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steam is celebrated in Thursford</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66CE73x1URdj9kHdd6HqvPKleZWqLJAmur4NBonaah9glmZy4NGLF-b-p6S51AnEmJbzcf_6Iny3spSkw-wJ6wZZRdhpvwr4bPsenhryRU_VGaMR6kwLkyqJKmJvuHqoR5upTqyfL6D0Q/s1600/DSC_1894.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66CE73x1URdj9kHdd6HqvPKleZWqLJAmur4NBonaah9glmZy4NGLF-b-p6S51AnEmJbzcf_6Iny3spSkw-wJ6wZZRdhpvwr4bPsenhryRU_VGaMR6kwLkyqJKmJvuHqoR5upTqyfL6D0Q/s400/DSC_1894.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had our own station once. Helping us journey together.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There is a warmth to this village. A sense of deep and long history. A sleepiness too; in the quiet passing of the years, the drifting of the dreams.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSbYZL-4M8sbhAvkQWyOR8Aod5MnW8wDuO2bAyYMjeBfjUD3nlwNq1ZFXeonMh1lhCwSMaw2YD0YHLmFj5daxvpmoz5N8iBwAthSdnnJMDBAeCQcmnBKmxUMIh8PcQggcbltIQ5qZ4ihx/s1600/FB_IMG_1568491313922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSbYZL-4M8sbhAvkQWyOR8Aod5MnW8wDuO2bAyYMjeBfjUD3nlwNq1ZFXeonMh1lhCwSMaw2YD0YHLmFj5daxvpmoz5N8iBwAthSdnnJMDBAeCQcmnBKmxUMIh8PcQggcbltIQ5qZ4ihx/s400/FB_IMG_1568491313922.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An after shot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaRdWuaVcMDj4yL_aOBAgwHCUk_UCr4AAh9Pyu7E2pn425Y0qTKeMgkLN_9TORwd_HsgP1i4Y2G0NxDcU3SVEiH_F-h-GqnA8IWwjhaO8oApg0FWmPWWG52cfHOZS9i4vuLmaaYi4GWFQc/s1600/FB_IMG_1568491304380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaRdWuaVcMDj4yL_aOBAgwHCUk_UCr4AAh9Pyu7E2pn425Y0qTKeMgkLN_9TORwd_HsgP1i4Y2G0NxDcU3SVEiH_F-h-GqnA8IWwjhaO8oApg0FWmPWWG52cfHOZS9i4vuLmaaYi4GWFQc/s400/FB_IMG_1568491304380.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunbeams in Thursford</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
What new peoples may come here. Settle here. Leave here. Influence here.<br />
<br />
Who will come next, as next they will surely come. From Scotland? Perhaps. To admire the top of this single sign? This touchstone. This symbol. There will always be a little touch of the Celt here.<br />
<br />
The roots go deeply. The threads are long.David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-59709475914539408612018-11-06T12:40:00.000+00:002018-11-06T12:56:42.100+00:00Shoving the Elephant Overboard - The Outback HalfSo I'm returning to Australia after spending the spring and summer months back in the UK, reconnecting with family and friends; working, and building further artwork for re-stocking my UK outlets.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_CNNlvLXRQf9t_CXwWZcwSq7F3_nPZ2bsY4c25Hu9xrZz6UrH5UDe_AgjEWWE2r37o5IQvmVFKlDN0truILgP19gdWP_3sWM1u_PTJ5tkglhZu44NVAp22vxtIKlkW0Gmqhmne6lgFc/s1600/map.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_CNNlvLXRQf9t_CXwWZcwSq7F3_nPZ2bsY4c25Hu9xrZz6UrH5UDe_AgjEWWE2r37o5IQvmVFKlDN0truILgP19gdWP_3sWM1u_PTJ5tkglhZu44NVAp22vxtIKlkW0Gmqhmne6lgFc/s400/map.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Landing gear engaged...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The time spent away in the northern hemisphere, gave me time to reflect on that first big southern adventure.<br />
<br />
So many things happened there, it is difficult to wrap that all up into one blog entry, so as promised, and shoving the elephant back overboard, I will not try, and I'll just touch on a single story, that resonated with me, instead.<br />
<br />
Making the decision to come back to Australia was easy. But what was it specifically that I was looking forward to?<br />
<br />
The fashionable head gear, and all the friendly insects?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCWYHKqmzbWEy1PX3Gi0U9jImq-hyVUNZUbQzKKCmYyUacfY-LlGm-HgTMFjauajcbTGYoc0eY98-6XEkxGDIEC-s842ECL9rLTstt0-McaedCZ63HYJrLVbKBxLkMN6l0p8fv4WVbEg/s1600/fly-net.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="990" data-original-width="742" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCWYHKqmzbWEy1PX3Gi0U9jImq-hyVUNZUbQzKKCmYyUacfY-LlGm-HgTMFjauajcbTGYoc0eY98-6XEkxGDIEC-s842ECL9rLTstt0-McaedCZ63HYJrLVbKBxLkMN6l0p8fv4WVbEg/s400/fly-net.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">This season, we will be wearing mostly net!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The hugely crowded beaches, where you can hardly move for windbreaks?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZ90QsT0t8bh7vsJ_CAu1K2ywMS146iy6VzsUZAJzmfoyW__DCqi4zYOSiK7dXDk1DBkRyGFuxk3gqQCRpRXHe24KO4rb2dUSzQwS1g0YvHwK6NcrmRrepiQnuT-apGNWU5_bBWSTQWU/s1600/dave-and-dave.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1240" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZ90QsT0t8bh7vsJ_CAu1K2ywMS146iy6VzsUZAJzmfoyW__DCqi4zYOSiK7dXDk1DBkRyGFuxk3gqQCRpRXHe24KO4rb2dUSzQwS1g0YvHwK6NcrmRrepiQnuT-apGNWU5_bBWSTQWU/s400/dave-and-dave.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where is everybody?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The modern forms of transport?<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycZ2-oh9ENcagws5taB3RiPidYPwrBV_4obwZEaTJiU7i-vUKiX-jtrkn1n1YcXqRmwFYcOc4J3z1EMbHHmedmufyFX7Xziadq5-dZ2xYJGYZn5u3gC3jEh8xIoZowHVWATKte0dIqIw/s1600/steam.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="407" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycZ2-oh9ENcagws5taB3RiPidYPwrBV_4obwZEaTJiU7i-vUKiX-jtrkn1n1YcXqRmwFYcOc4J3z1EMbHHmedmufyFX7Xziadq5-dZ2xYJGYZn5u3gC3jEh8xIoZowHVWATKte0dIqIw/s400/steam.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Murray River</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The outside barbecue facilities on the road?<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3bqZnM1xRSkOdmFmvqh5F7G-BohZgvb7rR_QtXiyXhVqq4h-J6pmTp-zuBZSYQ4rMMJDK4-SzqUakeUTaAM6fC8i9vxufXjK0c2dQBT_27O5E8wAc9L07MA0FGXFhGwJMhvdzqVb_f0/s1600/bbq-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="799" data-original-width="801" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3bqZnM1xRSkOdmFmvqh5F7G-BohZgvb7rR_QtXiyXhVqq4h-J6pmTp-zuBZSYQ4rMMJDK4-SzqUakeUTaAM6fC8i9vxufXjK0c2dQBT_27O5E8wAc9L07MA0FGXFhGwJMhvdzqVb_f0/s400/bbq-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roll up, roll-up, get your lovely sausages here!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Or perhaps it was Dave's facial expression when I told him I was coming back?<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yTzhw62xHP23QckEx3YRBIaZ_dhuE_pxJQ70Ivu5EV5G3WGI3TRSodYn_QqDIgyapTL7sFrBsHuZSUtziOCqdMOOTeez8D7D_OFHb9lrLLRJqAxPVh4EVt-K6f8R70UVcjPz6CQhNxc/s1600/dave-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yTzhw62xHP23QckEx3YRBIaZ_dhuE_pxJQ70Ivu5EV5G3WGI3TRSodYn_QqDIgyapTL7sFrBsHuZSUtziOCqdMOOTeez8D7D_OFHb9lrLLRJqAxPVh4EVt-K6f8R70UVcjPz6CQhNxc/s400/dave-2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You're coming back?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Seriously, I think it has something to do with the eternally positive outlook of Australians, and how they so often can turn difficult and challenging situations into something inspiring, and endurable.<br />
<br />
<br />
One story sums this up perfectly.<br />
<br />
<br />
Whilst we were travelling post wet season, in March 2018, between Brisbane and Darwin, we stopped in the town of Barcaldine, Queensland.<br />
<br />
An unassuming town, Bacarldine represents the origin of unionism, and the beginnings of the modern labour movement.<br />
<br />
The meetings of sheep workers and pastoralists here were key to the growth of this early political force and they met to resist unfair treatment and strike to improve workers' rights in what must have been hugely difficult situations, let alone a demanding physical climate.<br />
<br />
They met under The Tree of Knowledge, outside the station entrance of the terminus of the Great Western Railway.<br />
<br />
The tree became a focal point, and symbol of this unity and strength. In 1888 the Central Queensland Labourers' Union was formed at Barcaldine.<br />
<br />
In 2006, the tree was intentionally poisoned by glyphosate.<br />
<br />
I suppose in some situations, with such a malicious act against a living organism, and symbol of human values, the story might have ended there. At best, it may have resulted in a plaque, and some lines of history for passing tourists to be wistful about.<br />
<br />
But not here.<br />
<br />
What emerged, like a seed awaiting the inevitable bush-fire, was an artwork that captured the indomitable spirit of the original movement's sense of injustice.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmvLxBucm4TPot4bFFSeReygVG26zGZAJ3nwoO69B2GoUQMGak0IPMXPXBPerQ9LyOXxh7sNl4HPhFlpPRdQ4SSIBdSpTSLr_f9yLukA82d_ZMWqRI6MiVJbNMthlqM5X4sDxpyckkpA/s1600/tree-of-knowledge-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="246" data-original-width="138" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmvLxBucm4TPot4bFFSeReygVG26zGZAJ3nwoO69B2GoUQMGak0IPMXPXBPerQ9LyOXxh7sNl4HPhFlpPRdQ4SSIBdSpTSLr_f9yLukA82d_ZMWqRI6MiVJbNMthlqM5X4sDxpyckkpA/s400/tree-of-knowledge-1.JPG" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Tree of Knowledge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOJYxyU32uDanEBI1Q_XLjvxRC3D1P4_8IQZjI0_XPE6pwnvuLWHGbVDro_NcrsLkbsFv3BfsHo80Ttu-cYcW1F6foeKhdpBxedrTh7gR_rvExG88OOiQAh2nObWkfdknLUsk0p8MjYPg/s1600/tree-of-knowledge-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="523" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOJYxyU32uDanEBI1Q_XLjvxRC3D1P4_8IQZjI0_XPE6pwnvuLWHGbVDro_NcrsLkbsFv3BfsHo80Ttu-cYcW1F6foeKhdpBxedrTh7gR_rvExG88OOiQAh2nObWkfdknLUsk0p8MjYPg/s400/tree-of-knowledge-2.JPG" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original tree, beneath the new 'canopy'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The memorial, designed and built by m3architecture and Brian Hooper Architect, can now be seen on the original site, and to sit beneath it is quite humbling.<br />
<br />
The constructed wooden 'canopy' now towers above you, and when the wind blows, the wooden chimes sound eerily above the original tree's preserved trunk.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzk57XSibDNIgw4TBLPT_xRSwKxvWPsmITyiNmp-uxMIlwpxOMNXVER4vhttQn9CiVzmaxwf1cOWA5QAhbTlg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<span id="goog_1064230313"></span><span id="goog_1064230314"></span><br />
<br />
The story itself becomes even more memorable, when you find out that the original species was a Ghost Gum tree.<br />
<br />
I spent a bit of time sitting and reflecting and listening to the tree's voice. For me there was the reflection of the wooden chimes symbolising the tree's leaves, and the many voices of the workers, struggling to be heard.<br />
<br />
Later I found out that scientists have in fact been able to successfully clone material from the original tree, and specimens can be found growing in various places in Queensland. It gave me a smile and a lot to think about on the road ahead.<br />
<br />
Personally, I find stories like this truly inspirational, and full of hope. That the seed of human resilience is there, and grows on. No matter what.<br />
<br />
I'm now looking forward to seeing what's on the next horizon...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vvFyS_ZnjcHVnX8pUXmvGiwvja9v8Cn37ndMMn1KmAq4aUOxu0G7alxr0aEOQk1q5VJhQyImdRgUuA8XQ2Bof8kiaTLeVIzC86LaUI7F1q3atAgpQZbl6cJIaHi32cudQnjISFcDbrk/s1600/dave.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="929" data-original-width="1562" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vvFyS_ZnjcHVnX8pUXmvGiwvja9v8Cn37ndMMn1KmAq4aUOxu0G7alxr0aEOQk1q5VJhQyImdRgUuA8XQ2Bof8kiaTLeVIzC86LaUI7F1q3atAgpQZbl6cJIaHi32cudQnjISFcDbrk/s400/dave.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />David Dalzell - The Wandering Artisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03581172473846619057noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-70530647192018869972018-05-22T20:36:00.001+01:002018-05-22T21:09:19.883+01:00Shoving the Elephant Overboard!Its been a little while since my last post, but there are times when life just takes over...and recently there's been a need to live those moments as fully as possible. Be in it, and catch the precious, fleeting instant, rather than reflecting on it, or being online.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5eN8UeTbgojnuc1YmmPG6I1RDGSXlYoYPfyPf08vPnW69ceLYvX_J563d5s-68yTp249AVivgCgdNLhinbvWx5B9rfOtkipt8Hmf96EWgVwFeMYWBaqtYxgzMaRx-8cs3ql4thxrY7M/s1600/graphic-flutterer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5eN8UeTbgojnuc1YmmPG6I1RDGSXlYoYPfyPf08vPnW69ceLYvX_J563d5s-68yTp249AVivgCgdNLhinbvWx5B9rfOtkipt8Hmf96EWgVwFeMYWBaqtYxgzMaRx-8cs3ql4thxrY7M/s400/graphic-flutterer.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catching the moment - A Graphic Flutterer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It can at times feel like I've become a touch disconnected from the actual experience by writing about it too often. And also, there are times when it is important to give permission to stop. Especially when the task becomes too great, or the list of to do becomes too long.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, there's little time to reflect and write a comprehensive sentence, let alone compose a blog, and for that I hope you will forgive me.<br />
<br />
I could actually write a whole blog on learning to slow down, and not to try to fill every moment with stuff, but suffice to say I gave a lesson by example instead! Taking time to appreciate the view...to watch the horizon, rather than describing it, is important.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuz6mPQZV0FFJ4IPsMOuFMQ3FyQHlpZijWc77CEaj99667LPDBhvo5toRkSItcva4xpI2ctAg3-KAR8KT2t0c6QzKl34e-G61w7d34CFvskuGZp36ckc0djfQ2SJOJZoA1BRJHBZlH0uU/s1600/DSC_0999+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuz6mPQZV0FFJ4IPsMOuFMQ3FyQHlpZijWc77CEaj99667LPDBhvo5toRkSItcva4xpI2ctAg3-KAR8KT2t0c6QzKl34e-G61w7d34CFvskuGZp36ckc0djfQ2SJOJZoA1BRJHBZlH0uU/s400/DSC_0999+%25281%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This blog will try to deal a bit with my first Australian experience, but do note, this will not even scratch the surface. This continent pervades and overwhelms your senses with its grandeur and shear scale....nothing about the Australian continent is small, or for that matter, easy.<br />
<br />
The Oz adventure was a tale of two halves, and this blog will attempt to reduce the size of the elephant, by dividing it up, and shoving some overboard.<br />
<br />
The first saw me settled in Darwin from the end of October until mid December. It was during what the locals term 'The Build Up'. It has other names too. 'Mango Madness Season' being one of them.<br />
<br />
I could soon tell why.<br />
<br />
Mangoes did indeed appear in greater numbers in supermarkets, and my moods could swing on the toss of a coin from one moment to the next, if I ventured too far from the beloved and benevolent god called 'Air Conditioning'.<br />
<br />
The atmospheric pressure build up at this time of the year did reinforce my belief that we are finely tuned to the weather. And there was no fighting against it. You just have to wait for the rain storms to come, with the massive lightning flashes that herald the static discharges; ultimately reducing the pressure.<br />
<br />
At least for a short time.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1IWpU0uxkVAtRqMOnO2_L-iY2_yQ7NJdqFTBkgpeCA4923w_7rI3junFepO9q1ok4SAch8NzJyQ2axje9qJdSkZAwFvma-7hYf2j8UcuWpEmbkCC9I7A4CxOnNw-RWZIjpuQLtVFiYcc/s1600/IMG-20171002-WA0000+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1IWpU0uxkVAtRqMOnO2_L-iY2_yQ7NJdqFTBkgpeCA4923w_7rI3junFepO9q1ok4SAch8NzJyQ2axje9qJdSkZAwFvma-7hYf2j8UcuWpEmbkCC9I7A4CxOnNw-RWZIjpuQLtVFiYcc/s400/IMG-20171002-WA0000+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Storm approaching</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The subject matter for Australia automatically went to its nature at first, with the native plant and animal life - first and foremost, birds...and bird life there is aplenty.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXwaKG5SNZ_nqdk6nkyazm5l_Awq48i-rsjQc1gdpkSRJc7D0qYFMBDj9G7bxRN-1w23Rk7cTGwmsN3b1Yj4pRjuhK_lp6CZUHhRjDmu5W2e8kFIqLq_rR7KNlMy7fQ7_lliFydo52qOo/s1600/IMG_20171129_072633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1122" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXwaKG5SNZ_nqdk6nkyazm5l_Awq48i-rsjQc1gdpkSRJc7D0qYFMBDj9G7bxRN-1w23Rk7cTGwmsN3b1Yj4pRjuhK_lp6CZUHhRjDmu5W2e8kFIqLq_rR7KNlMy7fQ7_lliFydo52qOo/s400/IMG_20171129_072633.jpg" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chestnut-breasted mannikins</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But my art also took a couple of different directions at this point...acrylic, with a heavy dense graphic impact. It took on a more severe, bold, striking appearance. And this said Australia to me, a direct impact on my senses. It would see me change subject matter to cars as well, with the opportunity to complete my first Australian commission.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6EvtiFskJAB37zj9oJIGQa5qX341UhmIZ3TsflmohR4OUCnSWHK9ciYppDfoEFK3NAh6ICtgH2ivl2G0qsVEFoo8oQKynLrZVHxoUtINRAR2PbfgJjo8H-ycxXA9Y0ubmGk0-ruihbbo/s1600/IMG_20171214_054359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="784" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6EvtiFskJAB37zj9oJIGQa5qX341UhmIZ3TsflmohR4OUCnSWHK9ciYppDfoEFK3NAh6ICtgH2ivl2G0qsVEFoo8oQKynLrZVHxoUtINRAR2PbfgJjo8H-ycxXA9Y0ubmGk0-ruihbbo/s640/IMG_20171214_054359.jpg" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Valiant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The atmosphere of the build-up, and the effect it was having on me, hopefully got channeled a bit too, giving a slight mad-cap approach to some video making...a fun way to blog, and to showcase my artwork in a different, creative way...<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Gtxy82eNVK4/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Gtxy82eNVK4?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<div>
My friend Dave would also give me the chance to go on the water, from Darwin Harbour, and chat to people whilst on boat cruises and show my art style in more of a workshop, tutorial-like manner.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW7c2UIvFo0QQYw80lA08P2i3jqr2hI02g3QCag_43ClcWEVbAVuiEUql1mIFajIb7MpMQffusy_-cTRGOx_DqepDuMOKEcTFE51OSmbniKwXBKAVOUxVP_FJWf_Y_gethEwd-pxqkmo/s1600/IMG-20170703-WA0000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW7c2UIvFo0QQYw80lA08P2i3jqr2hI02g3QCag_43ClcWEVbAVuiEUql1mIFajIb7MpMQffusy_-cTRGOx_DqepDuMOKEcTFE51OSmbniKwXBKAVOUxVP_FJWf_Y_gethEwd-pxqkmo/s400/IMG-20170703-WA0000.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On board the Charles Darwin cruise ship</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZrp1vUIwj5npZbEuEb0QOJ9MVl_ELArDDvQC1pxTmRP_UiWlzxV6VnpiaMo1g2wJgxoZOqU3MJ70IcqMs9ydghyphenhypheniy3DCSuwOwucJ1onNKTdmfSk86hxQ-6R54dzKXe6oa9Rbs78gubW4/s1600/IMG-20171216-WA0011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZrp1vUIwj5npZbEuEb0QOJ9MVl_ELArDDvQC1pxTmRP_UiWlzxV6VnpiaMo1g2wJgxoZOqU3MJ70IcqMs9ydghyphenhypheniy3DCSuwOwucJ1onNKTdmfSk86hxQ-6R54dzKXe6oa9Rbs78gubW4/s400/IMG-20171216-WA0011.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the water with Darwin Harbour Cruises</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Dave Norton is a tour boat guide, for <a href="https://darwinharbourcruises.com.au/" target="_blank">Darwin Harbour Cruises</a>, and so I had a great opportunity to learn all about the local area, and sample the fantastic food on board. I had a great time on this cruise. The staff are all incredibly welcoming, the food is delicious, and the onboard safety talk is becoming legendary! Sailing around Darwin Harbour provided a well needed relief from the top end's build-up as well. Humidity would often be lingering between 80 and 100%, with regular storms coming in from the sea. In fact there was one on the horizon, and as well as a wonderful sunset, we were treated to very dramatic rainstorm, on the distant horizon thankfully!<br />
<br />
The couple of months I had to explore Australia would enable me to encounter both ancient aboriginal artwork, as well as experiment with modern digital art for the first time myself...an extreme of art only Australia can offer. I was in awe of the integrity of the aboriginal art seen on the surfaces of rock...and amused by how the modern age signs to give information on the artwork are all but degraded and in need of renewal!</div>
<div>
<br />
The trip has also helped me expand my graphic design and artistry skills, by helping to rescue a graffiti attacked wall, and renovate a number of mailboxes in Darwin, increasing my canvas size to include murals on the side of buildings was definitely a stretch of the portfolio.<br />
<br />
It was a real challenge...only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun, and the heat meant that working over the day became necessary, as I was usually sapped of strength until late morning. I am not an early riser at the best of times!</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/PTpNQAvq_qU/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PTpNQAvq_qU?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
And now December loomed, and this meant leaving Dave and Australia. My business visa required me to leave the country after 3 months, and this gave me the opportunity to do business in New Zealand, before returning to Oz in March.<br />
<br />
And perhaps this sense of leaving, and wandering, again became apparent in my artwork. That bittersweet tension resolved itself with the rendition of two Brolgas...created in the vibrant acrylic style I had begun to explore here.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYftQqG7JMqWHs6Hn-ryToMGr3ZUIi9WoRT543jy14d1cUBstnXdkXJd5W9uQ0aV2HTYMf1qq8LU-Xrn-mZVf-4TAgV6Wzss4Up0dmcpe5iJmY8Nh14r-cZp1KGnAbbIiZfimwqPasTc/s1600/IMG_20171215_063140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1191" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYftQqG7JMqWHs6Hn-ryToMGr3ZUIi9WoRT543jy14d1cUBstnXdkXJd5W9uQ0aV2HTYMf1qq8LU-Xrn-mZVf-4TAgV6Wzss4Up0dmcpe5iJmY8Nh14r-cZp1KGnAbbIiZfimwqPasTc/s400/IMG_20171215_063140.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brolga remains</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCiajI1c9qRXjLvEDr0uMDU_ZI_9HFLsVLMMzPr4UjXkEj5aaNEaWMxFLhFBsfLLyiEci1jkW38MUd05Isj7H7XEpXmpEYWWeFQj_uOwLLLxaV9M4lyPgZ9CXLH1x7OlOXK6EbZVeR4s/s1600/IMG_20171215_063308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1191" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCiajI1c9qRXjLvEDr0uMDU_ZI_9HFLsVLMMzPr4UjXkEj5aaNEaWMxFLhFBsfLLyiEci1jkW38MUd05Isj7H7XEpXmpEYWWeFQj_uOwLLLxaV9M4lyPgZ9CXLH1x7OlOXK6EbZVeR4s/s400/IMG_20171215_063308.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brolga departs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
This was part of the plan however, as I would now venture further afield, and test my art production whilst going to the markets!<br />
<br />
I'll be writing a further blog on my art and craft market experiences in the future. Suffice to say that this phase came with many trials and tribulations, and took a lot to complete. Although I learned a huge amount in the process.<br />
<br />
For now, I would return to Australia in a relatively positive, though certainly more drained, state of mind. Support at his point was crucial, and this was mostly given with emotional support from Dave, who is far more pragmatic than I am!<br />
<br />
I would now need to prepare myself for the next big challenge. Adelaide to Darwin via the east coast of Australia. A trip that was going to see us on the road for nearly a month...and that was going to prove a real test of my capabilities, and character.<br />
<br />
Stay tuned for the next part of this blog...<br />
<br />
'Shoving the Elephant Overboard...the out-back half'</div>
David Dalzell - The Wandering Artisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03581172473846619057noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-47290348183615853322017-11-23T00:35:00.000+00:002017-11-23T00:35:54.352+00:00Finding inspiration...just how does this art thing work, and (scarily) not work?<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Often people ask me about my art. And it makes me stop and reflect. </span></span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What does inspire me? Indeed, why do I create artwork in the first place? How would I describe this thing we call art? More importantly, what happens when I wake up and I can't seem to make it work (enter inevitable morning anxiety).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The easiest way to answer these questions is to at first just be technical. Describe the process...the how...not the why (that's way too scary to leap into right away, though I promise I will come to that - comforting cup of tea needed first though).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My artwork and techniques do tend to wander, hence my wandering artist name. An artist's journey is continuou</span>s, and carries on throughout their entire life. Or at least for as long as they practice as an artist. The technique and process is therefore apt to develop, change, and evolve over time, and hopefully improve.<br />
<br />
For the moment, I tend to focus on the detail, whilst allowing a smidgen of spontaneity. Attempting to capture as much as possible, whilst remembering that perfection does not exist. That in any perceived error, there often lies beauty and interest and an opportunity to learn.<br />
<br />
And to do this, I often combine the precision of a designer's pens with watercolour paint.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbMw8bH70sVqH9V7OTr4pU3sDdA8nNJma9-pscXOOJhCwsQI5B8mxue1s58wXGxEHezmPPwzGGrb_CX7OGIVXkEJH_DNGlSo4oY-I8uWdULkOTq_QCS4Cj8QWW5rF5A-fHTvwA0CEAl9g/s1600/20171101+Dave+Drawing+Esplanade+Darwin+%252817%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbMw8bH70sVqH9V7OTr4pU3sDdA8nNJma9-pscXOOJhCwsQI5B8mxue1s58wXGxEHezmPPwzGGrb_CX7OGIVXkEJH_DNGlSo4oY-I8uWdULkOTq_QCS4Cj8QWW5rF5A-fHTvwA0CEAl9g/s640/20171101+Dave+Drawing+Esplanade+Darwin+%252817%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beginning the composition</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I frequently, though not exclusively, work outside. This can be either entirely or partly, with the drawing construction coming first. This focuses my mind, as the drawing needs to take shape before the lighting shifts too much, or circumstances change. And they can change dramatically.<br />
<br />
During this particular day's sketching a moped rider came off his moped suddenly and I and several passers' by went immediately to help. It was quite encouraging to see people automatically leap to the rescue, and how people will willingly take charge of the moment.<br />
<br />
Emergency over, and the moped driver safely on his way to hospital, I was able to carry on with the day's drawing and painting.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZpEO5zeUuOvlWVaezlcVvafhXFnBZ6DqghMvsWykS5i1dN-h4SdSoM0dHm5-ehhi6LwqUOyQhE1VDpggfihyphenhyphenBtKb2ghfUiRV5e3FR0u0xibMeRDA419E3McyRAtabNlhr3UubTVKhzQ/s1600/equipment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1144" data-original-width="1600" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZpEO5zeUuOvlWVaezlcVvafhXFnBZ6DqghMvsWykS5i1dN-h4SdSoM0dHm5-ehhi6LwqUOyQhE1VDpggfihyphenhyphenBtKb2ghfUiRV5e3FR0u0xibMeRDA419E3McyRAtabNlhr3UubTVKhzQ/s640/equipment.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The essentials - travelling art kit, art board, paper, comfy stool and water</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Sometimes, due to the weather, there might be complete, or partial working of the piece indoors - especially whilst working at the top end of Australia, and during the build up to "The Wet", as occasional torrential downpours and lightening storms interrupts the afternoon!<br />
<br />
People who know me know that I love to draw trees. I have been particularly drawn to them since I was a biology student. The sense of age, and strength and the beauty of the graveled, characterful grooves, notches, breakages, growths, and wounds add to their gnarled beauty...something we appear to negate or reject when it comes to human beauty. What we see as part of the story of the trees life, we try to mask, cover, deny or even make-over with humans.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Sk6kfjc1cLf8qnTmyP4cwSNFzqrCVvoMyXoI1hQ0nhLnT5tUwkipzikuNoP-otQhfGC0VgqkZ0nzOkhOkcArvBnRRp4RA1PyexL6RBRGc3eBQDtm7dJ_ImBp7IW43lQqxJOUXhJwUhQ/s1600/20171101+Dave+Drawing+Esplanade+Darwin+%252819%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Sk6kfjc1cLf8qnTmyP4cwSNFzqrCVvoMyXoI1hQ0nhLnT5tUwkipzikuNoP-otQhfGC0VgqkZ0nzOkhOkcArvBnRRp4RA1PyexL6RBRGc3eBQDtm7dJ_ImBp7IW43lQqxJOUXhJwUhQ/s640/20171101+Dave+Drawing+Esplanade+Darwin+%252819%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Choosing the subject matter</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The next step is to set pen to paper. I make no preliminary pencil sketches first. I sometimes warm up, or at times feel the need to go in cold, but the actual image is drawn directly with pen and ink. Any mistakes are exploited or controlled mid-flow! Or not, and I might need to begin again...it depends on how easy it is to let go of that need for perfection.<br />
<br />
To be confident enough to do this has taken many years of daily (or as many days as I can) practice - even a single daily sketch is enough to ingrain that muscle memory further, in the same way as a musician learns a musical instrument, a child learns to catch a ball, or a dancer learns a specific dance...the same can be said of an artist. Eye-hand co-ordination needs development in the same way for an artist, as for any other task. And once developed, confidence in the unconscious task ensues. Don't use it...and lose it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqIuWp5FMKA-IHIu4YVoxAnvm9F5rLXjXXyAQWtfwf6tmcnU3YXBeJ_-Tw-EF4XXUKHG1kdu683W67KvkDcWs2lZlwXdLJNI1M_aPp6LU9QFNDo4ibm_z8H2bxaPM0JHcaF5RAtOxHSf8/s1600/20171101+Dave+Drawing+Esplanade+Darwin+%25287%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqIuWp5FMKA-IHIu4YVoxAnvm9F5rLXjXXyAQWtfwf6tmcnU3YXBeJ_-Tw-EF4XXUKHG1kdu683W67KvkDcWs2lZlwXdLJNI1M_aPp6LU9QFNDo4ibm_z8H2bxaPM0JHcaF5RAtOxHSf8/s640/20171101+Dave+Drawing+Esplanade+Darwin+%25287%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beginning the initial drawing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The initial drawing is worked steadily and patiently. Not rushing the process is a skill that has taken a while to develop. The process now takes time and represents a meditative process. Observation, and slow steady hand eye co-ordination.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkI5znvTti3zA5FOc3SKe1y5Ih2_Cj9Y8Iiwm4Bl107aWElKoATli20uc0g5cLSj8CNJWTjXYlORnHOntn0JGtljiUwmXt28d86a-lVmsTiU72JxThiL45YY1uhdiQTIxYylBtlsViMA/s1600/20171101+Dave+Drawing+Esplanade+Darwin+%252829%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkI5znvTti3zA5FOc3SKe1y5Ih2_Cj9Y8Iiwm4Bl107aWElKoATli20uc0g5cLSj8CNJWTjXYlORnHOntn0JGtljiUwmXt28d86a-lVmsTiU72JxThiL45YY1uhdiQTIxYylBtlsViMA/s640/20171101+Dave+Drawing+Esplanade+Darwin+%252829%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helping to mask over an area to stop smudging the image</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And as the hand works over the page, I'm suddenly confronted with a different challenge, than that usually encountered in the UK, where I often have to stop and run for a cup of tea, and warm surroundings. Here, I have to try to protect the image from the perspiration now building on my hands and arms, and running down my face. Darwin, placed at the top end of Australia, is in a very warm and humid climate at this time of year, building as it is towards 'The Wet', and so I have to fashion a screen over the drawing to prevent it smudging.<br />
<br />
Once the final tree image is completed, I look to the images of the different birds seen in the area, and finally decide on the masked lapwing as a good subject matter to add to my composition.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaj6XwfVulL16h7qXthMu1MPW8JYQIo13R-mYmtkSU169m5eX-2bkGl7gfkcKPHCCuz7e_NkfpsdKpq4HS4yWcjWG26nxbKQZSnu5L6sy02rEp3MBndK6QvjERtCbLwrY6i7bXG0fH5xc/s1600/20171101++Masked+Lap+Wing+Esplanade+Darwin++%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaj6XwfVulL16h7qXthMu1MPW8JYQIo13R-mYmtkSU169m5eX-2bkGl7gfkcKPHCCuz7e_NkfpsdKpq4HS4yWcjWG26nxbKQZSnu5L6sy02rEp3MBndK6QvjERtCbLwrY6i7bXG0fH5xc/s640/20171101++Masked+Lap+Wing+Esplanade+Darwin++%25283%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Masked Lapwing hunting for insects © David Norton</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This is also part of my art process. Being a biologist, nature often forms part of my inspiration, and using art helps me observe, and focus, and learn more about the world about me. Not so much in words (the blog helps me do that) but visually. It helps me really look at my surroundings.<br />
<br />
Birds inspire and fascinate me, representing creatures that will not be conscious of the man-made boundaries and migrate around the planet searching for where the climate and resources suite their needs. This carefree nature though is perhaps an illusion, as the rules and lines still exist for them, often fighting and competing over it, and of course we and other creatures place extra pressures on them too.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuFv4iT5ZW02IEx8LVcCPmSHe1DhyphenhyphenlvRYT_FdzIPbZmt-bT6edDw9E5kkRSZYGX2NJcnhlgQI2bzoW0o9MHvMSzL_QtbOv4726CMD-dFEGnALP6rI7T_ofJdtnK0lPaE8C0UqEczfFF0/s1600/20171101+Masked+Lap+Wing+Esplanade+Darwin++%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuFv4iT5ZW02IEx8LVcCPmSHe1DhyphenhyphenlvRYT_FdzIPbZmt-bT6edDw9E5kkRSZYGX2NJcnhlgQI2bzoW0o9MHvMSzL_QtbOv4726CMD-dFEGnALP6rI7T_ofJdtnK0lPaE8C0UqEczfFF0/s640/20171101+Masked+Lap+Wing+Esplanade+Darwin++%25281%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another has had enough, and wanders away © David Norton</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The masked lapwing, <i>Vanellus miles</i>, is seen as a common nomad here, and I'd been watching them wandering around the grassy areas of Bicentennial Park in Darwin. It is also named the masked plover, and the plover I am more used to seeing in the Northern Hemisphere does not have the fleshy yellow mask, or wattles, around the eyes and beak, and familiarity goes hand-in-hand with unfamiliarity here. The lapwings here are busy searching for insects and worms amongst the grass. It is seen to be very adaptable to its environment, and the number observed in a more urban area do indeed bare that out.<br />
<br />
It appears that people have in the past believed in the myth that the <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masked_lapwing" target="_blank">wattles contain venom</a>, it seems that this is because of being extremely territorial and their protective behaviour around their nests. They exhibit a noticeable <a href="https://nt.gov.au/environment/animals/wildlife-in-nt/masked-lapwing" target="_blank">swooping behaviour</a>, mostly against dogs, cats and other birds. It may just be that the wattles actually have meaning during mating, as with cockerels and turkeys.<br />
<br />
These lapwings appeared to be quite at ease today, and so I was able to use a couple of David Norton's images to develop the artwork, drawing in the birds and completing the foreground, before finishing off with a gentle watercolour wash and bringing depth of field by including my characteristic line clouds and sky; giving an artist's view of the day...without the moped accident of course!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUt8o6eRqGN_DKQ5rpkTm5mjvCZzKIPcSWWUgQb7j4O1Rv-LUzwwbDdErPka054VxVdvTJV_Rue70jly0-3ET9Ttf1yun-ZGAhBiYVDS6RpwcnRVVWAMTuFrpfOqF40caixw8KH3XI9-A/s1600/37859012984_e058c14ba8_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="1600" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUt8o6eRqGN_DKQ5rpkTm5mjvCZzKIPcSWWUgQb7j4O1Rv-LUzwwbDdErPka054VxVdvTJV_Rue70jly0-3ET9Ttf1yun-ZGAhBiYVDS6RpwcnRVVWAMTuFrpfOqF40caixw8KH3XI9-A/s640/37859012984_e058c14ba8_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished piece - Masked Lapwing, <i>Vanellus miles</i> - Bicentennial Park, Darwin, NT</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So how about that other question? The why? Why do I attempt to create art?<br />
<br />
What's that about?<br />
<br />
I am definitely a creative person, and a predominantly visually creative person at that. And so my need to create drives me. Take away everything from me, and if bored, sooner or later I will begin to create. And I have an urge to improve myself, and personally I see art as a striving for perfection (although that does not exist, I continue to repeat to myself!!).<br />
<br />
I have always received attention when it comes to art; given positive (and negative) feedback when I create something. My earliest memories for me involved the creation of some sort of childhood artwork, and right at the beginning the feedback was positive, and I didn't receive too much negativity (although enough to stop me severely for long periods of time). Voices that may have thought they were being constructive, but that for an artist, can have exceptionally damaging results, and some of those voices are my own thoughts...<br />
<br />
Such as only dead artists are successful, there's no money in it, surrounded by all these masters, what is the point? These are just a few...and they are killers...art is a journey, and to answer the question why I produce art...it is because for as long as I can remember, a voice inside me was and is always saying, I want to be an artist...so that's the voice that keeps leading me.<br />
<br />
Creating artwork gives me a sense of validation in the world, and contribution, and a sense that I can create something that might last, and hopefully be appreciated, at least a while, after me. It also helps me to connect to other people (even if that connection is negative, and sometimes painful).<br />
<br />
And as the next potential artwork looms, it leads to another important question about producing art.<br />
<br />
How do you retain that freshness, that joy and spontaneity in your work? How does the process actually work, rather than how you want it to work?<br />
<br />
The wish is for it to be turned on and off like a tap. To have good work appear every time. To wake up fresh and new and become as productive as a factory every day, and at any time of the day.<br />
<br />
Alas, it is not that way all the time. And every artist, I'm told, is different. We all need to answer that question though I think. What helps the process? Or what maximizes it. What helps keep it as a joy, rather than a chore?<br />
<br />
These questions I am, in fact, still seeking to answer for myself. And it often is akin to the natural world itself. There is an element of unpredictability and an uncontrolled nature to it, but there is also an element of discipline and ritual involved too. To always come to the table, to the day and to the work, and always strive to do one's best, through the good and the bad work. That is important.<br />
<br />
To respect it. But to also respect yourself, and your limits. That too is important.<br />
<br />
To exorcise and listen to the devils and the daemons, and move through it and use it for the next work. This is another important part of the process. Can I do it again? Will it work this time? Is there any point to this? Have I killed the magic? If I could do it yesterday, why can't I do it today?<br />
<br />
And through the practice, I await the next stretch; the next step forward; the next big leap. Where I get to say, wow, I didn't realise I could do that.<br />
<br />
The next improvement; the next development, and the next inspiration. That's what you constantly yearn and wait for. Scaring yourself, and moving yourself out of your comfort zone can often help.<br />
<br />
Be bold, and bold things will come. Perhaps not in the way we expect them to, but bold, scary things tend to come...our universe just seems to work that way.<br />
<br />
Sometimes that inspiration is like a bird. Unpredictable, and flighty. And you never know which bird it will be. But a bird will suddenly land in front of you. Nervous and aware that it is being watched. And sometimes it stays long enough, and sometimes it flies off before it is caught.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUslm5rORvllwfUrYfGAQ4EjpSibu6WTZ0lHu_5YCqbhqYusU_QkLZuSlsJ9bCUoYdzXuI-NMOdinRbb_wwwnUInD2yQkO7UR8WABCRgiBgjdZn54L0Wdf1ui-KnGGRSdJbm3duXPIDVw/s1600/rainbow-bee-eater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUslm5rORvllwfUrYfGAQ4EjpSibu6WTZ0lHu_5YCqbhqYusU_QkLZuSlsJ9bCUoYdzXuI-NMOdinRbb_wwwnUInD2yQkO7UR8WABCRgiBgjdZn54L0Wdf1ui-KnGGRSdJbm3duXPIDVw/s640/rainbow-bee-eater.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rainbow Bee-eater, Merops ornatus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And so for this next artwork, stay tuned...she'll hopefully come back...<br />
<br />David Dalzell - The Wandering Artisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03581172473846619057noreply@blogger.com0Darwin NT, Australia-12.4634403 130.84564180000007-12.7115473 130.52291830000007 -12.215333300000001 131.16836530000006tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-15788321204079806582017-11-11T10:36:00.000+00:002017-11-11T10:36:53.065+00:00Shooting wildlife in the digital worldThe intrepid Australian Dave-duo are settling into a wee bit of routine in Australia, and developing a team feeling. Dave N takes the photos of the local bird and insect-life and imparts the local knowledge, whilst Dave D composes the artwork.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi90ZycAzt0LAX3th0vYg23gzkiNzoF4tu1eivP8NcM6fHeY3S9QdTcD8u7BvFipCTmSEyy1tlnLqOz_0pzxSfB5YK1OfkuYwukMSzL4T8HTAcoum3Mrr99A6KRTH68N7d5lWP3X54wlvA/s1600/20171101+Forest+Kingfisher+Esplanade+Darwin+%252811%2529-vignette-copyright-david-norton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Forest Kingfisher Darwin Northern Territory Australia by David Norton" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi90ZycAzt0LAX3th0vYg23gzkiNzoF4tu1eivP8NcM6fHeY3S9QdTcD8u7BvFipCTmSEyy1tlnLqOz_0pzxSfB5YK1OfkuYwukMSzL4T8HTAcoum3Mrr99A6KRTH68N7d5lWP3X54wlvA/s640/20171101+Forest+Kingfisher+Esplanade+Darwin+%252811%2529-vignette-copyright-david-norton.jpg" title="Forest Kingfisher Darwin" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forest Kingfisher (Todiramphus macleayii), Darwin, NT Australia © David Norton</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAjWawcBNzUDb_4M7dUDWIKmh0UyvYXRVY0ZJP2C1tyafCF6ia0rVQesTssGruMguLp1XTaXqJup39USiGQqmz73tAqmALsc8RCc_GYLVfxtZgfa2py03qFvW_1PKAMbuR1OInwA7Soc/s1600/IMG_20171111_063123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Forest Kingfisher, Darwin, Northern Territory, NT, Australia, David Dalzell, the wandering artist" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1175" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAjWawcBNzUDb_4M7dUDWIKmh0UyvYXRVY0ZJP2C1tyafCF6ia0rVQesTssGruMguLp1XTaXqJup39USiGQqmz73tAqmALsc8RCc_GYLVfxtZgfa2py03qFvW_1PKAMbuR1OInwA7Soc/s640/IMG_20171111_063123.jpg" title="Forest Kingfisher Darwin" width="468" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forest Kingfisher, Northern Territory, Australia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
What quickly gets flagged up is my naive (but I would argue, uninfluenced) eye, when it comes to subject matter. I get the impression, when I see something new, and for me, exciting, that I may be getting swept away about the equivalent of the local common sparrow, or pigeon from the UK...two a penny.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_XU8YvVpLf8DcjwKnazNDc1OnesFIV-I6hojxHto18SqhNuDsgPHErzNIjAI4uFMCxXkF3DlGJhu0M-dDHRh_DtjdzJCkEN4nlY4sa-xa0NuEWEhjZkdjwtfggzegu8EieDLrE70PUQ/s1600/IMG_20171111_063219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Orange-footed Scrubfowl, Scrub fowl, Bush Chook, Darwin, Northern Territory, NT, Australia, David Dalzell, the wandering artist" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1133" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_XU8YvVpLf8DcjwKnazNDc1OnesFIV-I6hojxHto18SqhNuDsgPHErzNIjAI4uFMCxXkF3DlGJhu0M-dDHRh_DtjdzJCkEN4nlY4sa-xa0NuEWEhjZkdjwtfggzegu8EieDLrE70PUQ/s640/IMG_20171111_063219.jpg" title="Orange-footed Scrub fowl, Darwin" width="452" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orange-footed Scrubfowl (<i>Megapodius reinwardt</i>) or "Bush Chook", Darwin, NT - Australia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DH7BIXT9-1M5FZf45ZKZrtijziLEMXHNSTA6G-Vo8pfd3RJvrl84R2ZQJ9nWKbJs2PARyWsropzQbkDUECrBrNdb2WcmY6oUgVZ6G58d-QAiMJpXNRZQARRReXtfUDeUcwpeeDMw3pI/s1600/IMG_20171111_063305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Magpie-lark, Lark, Darwin, Northern Territory, NT, Australia, David Dalzell, the wandering artist" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1133" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DH7BIXT9-1M5FZf45ZKZrtijziLEMXHNSTA6G-Vo8pfd3RJvrl84R2ZQJ9nWKbJs2PARyWsropzQbkDUECrBrNdb2WcmY6oUgVZ6G58d-QAiMJpXNRZQARRReXtfUDeUcwpeeDMw3pI/s640/IMG_20171111_063305.jpg" title="Magpie-lark, Darwin" width="452" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magpie-Lark (<i>Grallina cyanoleuca</i>), Darwin, NT - Australia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The Orange-footed Shrubfowl (or Bush Chook) and the Magpie-Lark are two examples of this. They are a frequent resident of the Darwin area, and for the Bush Chook, in tropical areas of Australia, and for the Magpie Lark - throughout mainland Australia. They are wonderful birds however!<br />
<br />
Finding them frequently may also give me the opportunity to show the animals in a new style and light, by using them in new compositions. In this next case, whilst looking at the Darwin Parliament Building - a wonderful example of art deco style design - popular around Darwin.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GJ9bynVvAkXA27amz21J5W69GIp2IxdtoUsxejuMwA0Th4BKzQpchsVAYlzGRpossznoy043Eb0VtpHGR_3Dd5LdNTY4yqj9plpoA0tPsIfqdC7JNbI3bq7HnXyZNR1eXpF-TUp37pE/s1600/IMG_20171111_070419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Keeping Watch, Parliament House, State Square, Darwin, Northern Territory, NT, Australia, Magpie-Lark, David Dalzell, The Wandering Artist" border="0" data-original-height="1190" data-original-width="1600" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GJ9bynVvAkXA27amz21J5W69GIp2IxdtoUsxejuMwA0Th4BKzQpchsVAYlzGRpossznoy043Eb0VtpHGR_3Dd5LdNTY4yqj9plpoA0tPsIfqdC7JNbI3bq7HnXyZNR1eXpF-TUp37pE/s640/IMG_20171111_070419.jpg" title="Keeping Watch, David Dalzell, The Wandering Artist" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Keeping Watch"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Wandering around the city, I have been able to begin to gain a perspective of the very new, with the very old. Composing "Keeping Watch" felt like the tensions between the ancient and the new, the natural and man-made worlds, and the inherent fragility of both.<br />
<br />
The parliament building in Darwin is Australia's newest parliament, completed in 1994. A lot of Darwin was rebuilt after cyclone Tracy struck on Christmas Eve in 1974, and twenty years later this building was built on the old post office site. Such destructive force of cyclones for me is unimaginable, although it seems they are growing in frequency and force around our planet.<br />
<br />
Shifting the perspectives for me gives the almost 'dinosaur' watchfulness of the bird to the fore. It brings an almost sinister air to the piece. Nature is often seen as beautiful, but of course it can also contain surprising destructive forces. During times where the natural world seems gentle, our influence could potentially unleash such huge and lethal forces, and the questions within this building would be most apt...what are we doing to our world?<br />
<br />
Spending time on this continent brings the opportunity to increase my knowledge of the animal (including human) and plant kingdoms firsthand. The life and history here were separate for so long, that many things are very different, and I have only touched the surface. Only comparitively recently would it have been possible for someone like me to even be aware that this continent existed.<br />
<br />
Watching the local wildlife is an activity that brings some challenges in identification. As a trained applied biologist, my strengths were more in the areas of the how, why and when of the biological world, rather than the what, and taxonomy has always been a little challenging for me, even in the UK.<br />
<br />
Dave's local and national knowledge however, becomes invaluable, though there would be times when we were both utterly stumped.<br />
<br />
Immediate answers are something that we have become more expectant of, demanding of even, as our electronic world has propelled us into an era of instantly accessible information.<br />
<br />
Now I am not always content with the digital world...actually, at times I wonder if we have lost too much by adopting it - time, patience, perspective to name but three. Living in the world of online resources is somewhat an illusion that we can always access the right information, and act immediately, and my frustration levels are often a symptom of this phenomenon.<br />
<br />
Artists and taxonomists in the past however, would have had a different approach to illustrating and identifying their prey...with results somewhat slower, and permanent, hunting either with a gun, or a net, with the prey ultimately stuffed or spiked on the end of a needle!<br />
<br />
Thankfully, these days the technology we have to hand enables us to capture an organism, whilst allowing it to continue its life relatively unaffected.<br />
<br />
Accepting the pros however, also means we have to accept the cons. And the virtual world is an ever-moving world of facts and figures. Caution speaks out that I would have need of an expert.<br />
<br />
Taking pictures of the animal life here may result in images that can be used for art reference, but what do you do when you have no idea what it is?<br />
<br />
The books needed are sometimes many, and not always to hand.<br />
<br />
Interest had begun to turn towards the smaller, and at the same time vaster diversity, of the insect world.<br />
<br />
A pair of rather intimately-locked butterflies had stumped us. They appeared to not at all be concerned by the photographic capturing of what should, I suppose, be a private matter (although they'd decided to throw propriety aside by using the balcony).<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoqkjEd_puOctHNQIiVz4D4vi-nBhb7nJl00X83U1BWnCKkbZ_kx4oo07qBgzGekIQaHKbZPeRx_NxoKV_ybo4jlFziMrHqLOH7owx_MfYJ8RPI07hzyJrVXWo-3XvVDVj_E1DhUxvJM/s1600/20171104+Great+Jay+Butterfly+Darwin+Northern+Territory+%25287%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Graphium eurypylus nyctimus, Great Jay Butterflies, Butterfly, Darwin, Northern Territory, NT, Australia, David Norton" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoqkjEd_puOctHNQIiVz4D4vi-nBhb7nJl00X83U1BWnCKkbZ_kx4oo07qBgzGekIQaHKbZPeRx_NxoKV_ybo4jlFziMrHqLOH7owx_MfYJ8RPI07hzyJrVXWo-3XvVDVj_E1DhUxvJM/s640/20171104+Great+Jay+Butterfly+Darwin+Northern+Territory+%25287%2529.JPG" title="Mating pair of Great Jay butterflies, Darwin" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Graphium eurypylus nyctimus</i> (Waterhouse & Lyell, 1914). © David Norton</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
With the butterflies digitally caught and showing no signs of stopping, to save blushes, our attention turned quickly to identification!<br />
<br />
Where would we find an expert. Enter the virtual world of forums, stage left! And the joy when technology enables us to quickly connect up.<br />
<br />
In just a few minutes I'd managed to find, join and introduce myself to the <a href="http://www.collector-secret.proboards.com/" target="_blank">Insect Collectors Forum</a>. This is a resource for insect collectors, enthusiasts and those with a virtually inexhaustible insectivorous appetite.<br />
<br />
Within a few hours, I'd received an answer. Thank you Paul K from Canada! It was a sub-species of the Great Jay butterfly - <i>Graphium eurypylus nyctimus</i> (Waterhouse & Lyell, 1914).<br />
<br />
And logging onto the <a href="http://www.ala.org.au/" target="_blank">Atlas of Living Australia</a>, the image of these butterflies was loaded up, and the sighting recorded.<br />
<br />
We just have to wait 1-2 weeks for it to appear on the site. Ah well. There's that reminder that not everything can be instant. We'd have to wait for confirmation that these butterflies were indeed what we thought they were.<br />
<br />
For now, job done! Now I've only to create the artwork...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfLnec9v5-VPxqTK7QPETfd2_J1OuS6EXOScX5S87yMc164PrCOBGtEgIJHAJdX7uP9JxyJEEFFhEdnY17XgK1v3e95UB0FXFcPrU5HyzQMd_aDiMxYT7o3kLHQtcMNQIx4hPGBCHp3nE/s1600/IMG_20171111_100603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="The Great Jay, Butterfly, Darwin, Northern Territory, NT, Australia, David Dalzell, The Wandering Artist" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1143" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfLnec9v5-VPxqTK7QPETfd2_J1OuS6EXOScX5S87yMc164PrCOBGtEgIJHAJdX7uP9JxyJEEFFhEdnY17XgK1v3e95UB0FXFcPrU5HyzQMd_aDiMxYT7o3kLHQtcMNQIx4hPGBCHp3nE/s640/IMG_20171111_100603.jpg" title="The Great Jay" width="456" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Great Jay - Darwin - NT</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
David Dalzell - The Wandering Artisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03581172473846619057noreply@blogger.com0Darwin NT, Australia-12.4634403 130.84564180000007-12.4634403 130.84564180000007 -12.4634403 130.84564180000007tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-29671975128349116982017-10-31T10:22:00.001+00:002017-11-11T08:49:29.727+00:00A Dave in the hand is worth two in the Bush...So it was time to explore the new - down under. This was the exciting possibility before me.<br />
<br />
I'd arrived in Australia, and was awaiting the myriad differences and similarities I'd be confronted with.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJ2A2qEAQ0FsCDKaJ8tbx6AQGLO7FKViZa9ZIFKAFrEqmQf4V68jQcJNorMQ0AAbKyr7AJZgxYjISanOxIZGbraMVirfdce4N7FJRUygvfl4NN5T4WvoWAp8Q92qzSMUrRmb6g0yQdHg/s1600/IMG_20171031_062153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1363" data-original-width="1600" height="544" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJ2A2qEAQ0FsCDKaJ8tbx6AQGLO7FKViZa9ZIFKAFrEqmQf4V68jQcJNorMQ0AAbKyr7AJZgxYjISanOxIZGbraMVirfdce4N7FJRUygvfl4NN5T4WvoWAp8Q92qzSMUrRmb6g0yQdHg/s640/IMG_20171031_062153.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here be Dragons</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I was beginning to realise that a good amount of time would be needed to recover from the 44 hour journey I was experiencing (note to self, budgeting on the trip might have a cost somewhere else).<br />
<br />
I had a long stop over in Melbourne though, and so had the chance to soak up some of the atmosphere, grab a bite, and sketch in my journal.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQucFBjiZfmM20ynTRL7o5LRq2yglCYs6OsF9_Qcx_ao4wgX0cJezsaLIwu3MbbAEA4V8chkhxWeE54Ebp3ww2N0BoURCTo2qg7gIzViJlX_0DqPaF2FFEPbEtVrucWqygiYdUBhKxA4/s1600/IMG_20171031_061941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="928" data-original-width="1600" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQucFBjiZfmM20ynTRL7o5LRq2yglCYs6OsF9_Qcx_ao4wgX0cJezsaLIwu3MbbAEA4V8chkhxWeE54Ebp3ww2N0BoURCTo2qg7gIzViJlX_0DqPaF2FFEPbEtVrucWqygiYdUBhKxA4/s640/IMG_20171031_061941.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Melbourne skyline</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Sitting by the river Yarra, having my lunch, I was to overhear a wee snippet of the city, and an old connection to Queen Victoria, in the guise of Lord Melbourne. A school teacher had taken all the school girls in his care to the river and was asking them what they knew about the city's name.<br />
<br />
I was glad that I would not be relied on to answer, as my history of the Victorians in the old and new country is severely lacking. However, Governor of New South Wales, Richard Bourke apparently named the city after the Prime Minister of Great Britain, Lord Melbourne, William Lamb, a man close to Queen Victoria. As the years go by, I'm beginning to realise that a number of men could claim to be close to the Queen.<br />
<br />
There was a vibrant air to Melbourne, and I loved being able to travel on the free trams within the city centre area. This really increased my chances of viewing more of the city.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmv-_Jd2LW81quoArH30rrKD1UaJCR3fS3euwY1cVdaM2NhW_8ixIrsZuJhyphenhyphen0Z2xsMctAyssDO5C8g9PmQb9FXfYgRqfZ7TTShpkawUQ4wyMVtCIpR_d61W9JDR_qbWt4uh3qWwxyQeaI/s1600/IMG_20171031_062059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1286" data-original-width="1600" height="513" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmv-_Jd2LW81quoArH30rrKD1UaJCR3fS3euwY1cVdaM2NhW_8ixIrsZuJhyphenhyphen0Z2xsMctAyssDO5C8g9PmQb9FXfYgRqfZ7TTShpkawUQ4wyMVtCIpR_d61W9JDR_qbWt4uh3qWwxyQeaI/s640/IMG_20171031_062059.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sights and sounds of Melbourne, Victoria, Australia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span id="goog_1734442860"></span><span id="goog_1734442861"></span><br />
<br />
After Melbourne, it was a then a final internal flight up to Darwin, and the Northern Territory (NT).<br />
<br />
Hugely different climate in Australia's only tropical city, I was met by a beautiful, sunny, warm and occasionally stormy city as the NT moved into its wet season.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZlkQst_CuijYdBxSwUhB_VbKGqLnTgdS1NItyA-1AHPqXrla4VUvZZP1ZWLy8XlkHwSyi5G8Xmsl8vi0sj_m4P3XRqwRA5VXtNJL-IhrnLzeIvVLLRIA8vbisYyhHvwkT1ABWIVcLy0/s1600/IMG_20171030_030234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="419" data-original-width="1600" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZlkQst_CuijYdBxSwUhB_VbKGqLnTgdS1NItyA-1AHPqXrla4VUvZZP1ZWLy8XlkHwSyi5G8Xmsl8vi0sj_m4P3XRqwRA5VXtNJL-IhrnLzeIvVLLRIA8vbisYyhHvwkT1ABWIVcLy0/s640/IMG_20171030_030234.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fogg Damn, Northern Territory, Australia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I was incredibly grateful to be in the very capable hands of Dave, who had lived in the NT for over 25 years, and his scientific and tour guide background would prove invaluable. It is always better to be in the company of someone who has lived in the area, really experienced a place, and so knows its history. So I was happy to be led whilst we began the task of trying to track down some native wildlife, albeit that I was feeling incredibly out of my depth suddenly.<br />
<br />
I had spent the last few months building to this point. All had been to get me here and experience this. And here I was. Now was the time to appreciate it, work with it, perform and produce and have a great time...to boot.<br />
<br />
There was a moment of panic...of feeling doubt...of not knowing what to do.<br />
<br />
A bit of advice from Dave would help me greatly. The true meaning of NT...<br />
<br />
'Not Today', 'Not Tomorrow', 'Not Tuesday', 'Not Thursday'...dont expect too much...and then you can be pleasantly surprised...<br />
<br />
And bird watching proved at first to not be such an easy task...wildlife not always being well behaved, nor predictable. Couple this to the challenge of identification, our work would be cut out for us, and expectations were low.<br />
<br />
Trying anything new of course comes with a bit of trial and error, and we found ourselves going all David "Attenborough" and David "Bellamy" as we herded some Australian Ibis in the undergrowth!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7lQPe2Hhby8QPtw0niqSvxI1qpK0goyidoWsHbv-mm16uGwGA-debnOCPFzDy09Ec5YC5r7JyVfCRG8xle2fndc8nvF3S9dmij9qXcTGwT2X39ZHAQe4CChEwEp02A0RWRGjci0bNNk/s1600/IMG_20171031_083958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1172" data-original-width="1600" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7lQPe2Hhby8QPtw0niqSvxI1qpK0goyidoWsHbv-mm16uGwGA-debnOCPFzDy09Ec5YC5r7JyVfCRG8xle2fndc8nvF3S9dmij9qXcTGwT2X39ZHAQe4CChEwEp02A0RWRGjci0bNNk/s640/IMG_20171031_083958.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The Ibis though is quite common in Australia, and is debated as either a nuisance, or endangered. Perhaps it is both, as we as humans judge animals as they attempt to adapt and survive in a world more and more dominated by humans. In any respect, these birds did us at least the courtesy of getting close enough to take a photo, and so work up an image.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCXhyphenhyphenKDQzPs5AKzKGuEx-vgKe4JqRJxQmBwri32D1If7kxCMbs5TM4t3eCUZe9K5_MPifoFuNwN3bnKPA9p9ZdakH2Pg4CLuQIKZPg5cUS2PmAE11Z87g1ZpmgXxnDtQ5DUqo-1NZvfg/s1600/IMG_20171031_053314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1141" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCXhyphenhyphenKDQzPs5AKzKGuEx-vgKe4JqRJxQmBwri32D1If7kxCMbs5TM4t3eCUZe9K5_MPifoFuNwN3bnKPA9p9ZdakH2Pg4CLuQIKZPg5cUS2PmAE11Z87g1ZpmgXxnDtQ5DUqo-1NZvfg/s640/IMG_20171031_053314.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Australian Ibis in Berry Springs, NT</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I was hopeful that this would only be the beginning of the sights we would see, as I learned more about the birds and animals on this massive continent.<br />
<div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJIXHcde6juktAhfSoW5m2zHx4ipOFZsDH_RgomE0B9MNkjEWfebMdKYCHZobOKiGQUcbxeSqtiFYIcCHiXyPQg3HKsP5eUPox9dGvIkfyqgB-RATHozFuZaJoAEt7qMAAqztb643Z4Y0/s1600/IMG_20171031_061851.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1044" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJIXHcde6juktAhfSoW5m2zHx4ipOFZsDH_RgomE0B9MNkjEWfebMdKYCHZobOKiGQUcbxeSqtiFYIcCHiXyPQg3HKsP5eUPox9dGvIkfyqgB-RATHozFuZaJoAEt7qMAAqztb643Z4Y0/s640/IMG_20171031_061851.jpg" width="416" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dancing Cranes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There is a stately, and elegant nature to birds. They carry themselves with dignity which is beautiful to watch. In the wetlands of Fogg Damn, the Brolga, or Dancing Crane could be seen in evidence around the giant water lillies.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiaQ8oAGjpY2IzceD0OGff-Gg9NGf7Dbbc-j5M8eMHENeLTATi2w6-AshKNRqhTVoWS8Zxo56OBtkAvbF4gVGnTxSyRbbpv60cvQx143eH2ISIxBaKhMQIMCi39hBjuLFEIhuMP2SEkmw/s1600/IMG_20171030_025611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiaQ8oAGjpY2IzceD0OGff-Gg9NGf7Dbbc-j5M8eMHENeLTATi2w6-AshKNRqhTVoWS8Zxo56OBtkAvbF4gVGnTxSyRbbpv60cvQx143eH2ISIxBaKhMQIMCi39hBjuLFEIhuMP2SEkmw/s640/IMG_20171030_025611.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amongst the lillies</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And I did have a burning wish to see another familiar, yet different variety of a familiar wee bird. The Fairy Wren. Only time would tell....and I'd try to remember...keep my expectations low...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDXrBqUyzrHLJr94Ch_8LQaahyphenhyphenpQXQ28ObG8plfs6l1lxy_GHywn6G1oFXccZ9V8d7zVbgnZY7Tli6Bfzra3PZlVjcrsNxNKDDitgFvi6VeegrqhX3oLTxmumOAyx1r4yxrnhYigVEWA/s1600/IMG_20171031_061754.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="940" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDXrBqUyzrHLJr94Ch_8LQaahyphenhyphenpQXQ28ObG8plfs6l1lxy_GHywn6G1oFXccZ9V8d7zVbgnZY7Tli6Bfzra3PZlVjcrsNxNKDDitgFvi6VeegrqhX3oLTxmumOAyx1r4yxrnhYigVEWA/s640/IMG_20171031_061754.jpg" width="376" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dash of blue, the Fairy Wren</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
David Dalzell - The Wandering Artisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03581172473846619057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-83179248426637986492017-10-12T21:00:00.000+01:002017-11-11T08:51:24.338+00:00Oz is calling...So seven months have passed now since I returned from New Zealand, where my life changed significantly and projected me forward to build my business, find temporary work, and to plan my next Antipodean adventure, whilst following my heart to Australia, and Darwin in the Northern Territory.<br />
<br />
The last seven months had been challenging, fraught, productive and also hugely satisfying and rewarding.<br />
<br />
The double need to plan, and to act spontaneously was continuously present. That feeling of constantly living on the edge of a cliff, knowing that now is the time to leap. To leap, and leap again. Just as the house martin does each trip from the nest, the risk of the fall transforms into the supportive movement of the feathered wing. Hopefully growing stronger with each journey.<br />
<br />
Plunging and hitting the ground, although avoided, does not mean you don't deal with turbulence and obstacle. But then the thrill is often at the edge.<br />
<br />
This summer the business definitely took a big step forward. Two of the flights took me to two new galleries and shops. <a href="http://www.bassrockgallery.com/" target="_blank">Bass Rock Gallery</a> in Dunbar and <a href="http://www.17reasons.co.uk/" target="_blank">17Reasons</a> in Moffat.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaH25ef4hlbeOhB1VCFZlz1ceKw4a38bOtJAccvyOlxBSCaXfLE0uUF1zTOkBSrYsLgLuFbwDIEEIhC5XQT2IRUEBOOZVKpW_1kH6TN1c3tvIEcO3V7nyYWX3rUa3MK__3axpMdgOBXrA/s1600/DSC_0270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaH25ef4hlbeOhB1VCFZlz1ceKw4a38bOtJAccvyOlxBSCaXfLE0uUF1zTOkBSrYsLgLuFbwDIEEIhC5XQT2IRUEBOOZVKpW_1kH6TN1c3tvIEcO3V7nyYWX3rUa3MK__3axpMdgOBXrA/s640/DSC_0270.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carol Bowman's expert eye at Bass Rock Gallery</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7V4idgnWCA70V-sBI-xz_Sx5qoj6WTT57H23edTVn2d1_DOFbEmI1alDJ7VSGO68PBhmMAfZQ5nURL7gzEPbskYAJ-V8ceG9uWiFLbXDkJ8BJLmrvvK4mZdKOrC3TTCeywIPcn1aei_U/s1600/IMG_20171010_213429_929.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1582" data-original-width="1582" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7V4idgnWCA70V-sBI-xz_Sx5qoj6WTT57H23edTVn2d1_DOFbEmI1alDJ7VSGO68PBhmMAfZQ5nURL7gzEPbskYAJ-V8ceG9uWiFLbXDkJ8BJLmrvvK4mZdKOrC3TTCeywIPcn1aei_U/s640/IMG_20171010_213429_929.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going rural in 17Reasons, Moffat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Both of these creative ventures are run with a resonant joy that is both uplifting and inspirational. These people just radiate a wonderful energy that helps me on this journey. Craft and arty people themselves, they have been successful at growing their passions into successful businesses, and I am very grateful for that.<br />
<br />
If art could be created whilst constantly in the presence of these people I'd be a happy chap...alas the work often calls for solitude and focus...but there are ways to bring people around you whilst producing.<br />
<br />
A second summer trip saw me return to Scotland, and Edinburgh, to demonstrate one of my latest techniques in crafting.<br />
<br />
It is a great experience to chat to people and show others how my particular style reveals itself and the crafted items are made, where the ideas come from, and also potentially encourage others in their creative endeavours.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJCYL_rvMZIYIXX9tWSxOlMtQVvY5uPne5oU0A2MXVcm9ayLgMJaAJ5aEY5R3TLbnnGw172G4ydYD61fFBdCfsJzMLUoRLDg6Yz3l_pPFrBU5Jiyq0sv8-s9OSbptxQCFxiHfO0hROcGE/s1600/21457718_269211213583682_6573874650083661444_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1071" data-original-width="1600" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJCYL_rvMZIYIXX9tWSxOlMtQVvY5uPne5oU0A2MXVcm9ayLgMJaAJ5aEY5R3TLbnnGw172G4ydYD61fFBdCfsJzMLUoRLDg6Yz3l_pPFrBU5Jiyq0sv8-s9OSbptxQCFxiHfO0hROcGE/s640/21457718_269211213583682_6573874650083661444_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A blissful afternoon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1nYMf5Z_4xpIhF2DCHrlOcw9Q4eXBiTQawDJwVOaYqCK8NA_a50aFze9QpBXXMJM3mh-ELXRHxPoLWQATkhxuQADjEKTrTf1UQMRz6tcZdwkLOLRIuBbSI9OFgqHl38nhefW50EwiFc/s1600/21414835_269211616916975_8680362150662933460_o.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1071" data-original-width="1600" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1nYMf5Z_4xpIhF2DCHrlOcw9Q4eXBiTQawDJwVOaYqCK8NA_a50aFze9QpBXXMJM3mh-ELXRHxPoLWQATkhxuQADjEKTrTf1UQMRz6tcZdwkLOLRIuBbSI9OFgqHl38nhefW50EwiFc/s640/21414835_269211616916975_8680362150662933460_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiGtGjALCKZA_bKzP3-smlkZl_PcnD2ZLKdRNvpGD8VLz10EcjgRy9hkeyzqFbQ1roAlPteoSZg3Ko4HUoXluWLlK_lkEal3fA_SaPgWoVjp3KMzuk8ylo6ns0nWcoJo1mSa8UsNwyzE/s1600/21544188_269211826916954_3561382686463025762_o.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1071" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiGtGjALCKZA_bKzP3-smlkZl_PcnD2ZLKdRNvpGD8VLz10EcjgRy9hkeyzqFbQ1roAlPteoSZg3Ko4HUoXluWLlK_lkEal3fA_SaPgWoVjp3KMzuk8ylo6ns0nWcoJo1mSa8UsNwyzE/s640/21544188_269211826916954_3561382686463025762_o.jpg" width="427" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
The great thing about demonstration is that it helps me reinforce my own learning as I describe the process and also learn from people too with their feedback. I aim to carry out workshops in the Art & Craft Collective in June 2018, so watch this space and stay tuned to either <a href="https://www.facebook.com/dalzell.art/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, or <a href="https://twitter.com/djbdalzell" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, or this blog.<br />
<br />
It also became a time to begin making new contacts in my home county of Norfolk and selling art and craft at <a href="https://fakenhammakersmarket.co.uk/" target="_blank">Fakenham Makers Market</a> with the kind help of my sister-in-law Christine Good, who has begun to show me the new world of jewellery making...go team!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjpcUjxWFo1HzvL1HNBRqy-EqgCliaidWfT7nidMye9ritlhfF1ZEgA__L1gIhfsc_OTaGde5byhkbeRQjBypdWOFML8clbduIEynEjVupa9ZfXTT3epsi7g_spHO5U-hwlVfuq4kuplk/s1600/IMG_20170923_101308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjpcUjxWFo1HzvL1HNBRqy-EqgCliaidWfT7nidMye9ritlhfF1ZEgA__L1gIhfsc_OTaGde5byhkbeRQjBypdWOFML8clbduIEynEjVupa9ZfXTT3epsi7g_spHO5U-hwlVfuq4kuplk/s640/IMG_20170923_101308.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Setting up stall in St Andrew's Church, Fakenham, Norfolk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
This had become a time of juggling...work, art and craft making, seeing friends and family and planning and organising my 6 month trip to Australasia. So much to organise I realised and an enormous amount of discipline, planning and decision making needed. There would be many moments of feeling frayed at the edges.<br />
<br />
Now the countdown is on...back to wandering, but this time with a very strong pull, and goal in mind. Although events can take you to unexpected places, and although Australia is of course a fantastically wonderful country to explore...my path is guided not by place, nor by wanderlust, and perhaps not even by my artwork, but by a much greater pull of the heart.<br />
<br />
It's time to take to the wing once more.<br />
<br />
And so this brings me to October, and as I turn my eyes to the autumnal sky, the soft lonely cry can be heard.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkyeyh3x8qhdQilHHMnxCBA9krNu5xRg064Ank1HEQaoEK1Qpalb3wW7pvhFpTG_NNSX9Wwhsog6krM66FLaIepJsOW3riQF_T2rg2bUY5Zol3whGk5pZRb-H7xGNro2ElWkcwyZs-JqQ/s1600/1507837996973-1066852403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkyeyh3x8qhdQilHHMnxCBA9krNu5xRg064Ank1HEQaoEK1Qpalb3wW7pvhFpTG_NNSX9Wwhsog6krM66FLaIepJsOW3riQF_T2rg2bUY5Zol3whGk5pZRb-H7xGNro2ElWkcwyZs-JqQ/s640/1507837996973-1066852403.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The geese are flying south.<br />
And the air is calm.<br />
Still and cold, with melancholic notes<br />
Of twilight shards.<br />
<br />
The geese are flying south<br />
And I stop and stare,<br />
Alert to the cusp of coming winter;<br />
Reflecting the deep indigo shine<br />
Of the orb's gentle curve.<br />
<br />
The geese are flying south.<br />
The geese are flying south, at last.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />David Dalzell - The Wandering Artisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03581172473846619057noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-86756672173828048522017-09-06T21:03:00.000+01:002017-11-11T08:52:22.864+00:00Transitions in woodBusy-ness growing your business is fine to a point.<br />
<br />
A pause for breath is sometimes necessary, although not always possible. Events and opportunities come along at uncontrollable times, and decision making becomes intense, quick and harsh.<br />
<br />
The last few months have seen me become busier and more challenged than usual.<br />
<br />
Dreaming about a potential goal, and then taking action to fulfill it, makes your perspective change radically. Everything can suddenly appear either a help or a hurdle to that goal...if we let it.<br />
<br />
However, having listened to a lot of people over the years, I have begun to change that mindset. A massive paradigm shift to my belief system. The growing awareness that everything helps you to your goal once you begin that journey,and once you truly commit to the goal that you know, deep, deep inside is yours. Because you will stop at nothing to realise it. And your emotional responses can be trusted,to enable you to act in such a way to keep you on your path. I suppose the trick is to realise what your goal truly is.<br />
<br />
The goal of becoming an artist is very close to me. The past few years have seen that develop. Finding a balance between my artistic life and my family and social life has always created a tension. It's difficult to get that balance right, and I often struggle. This summer, with having to balance nurturing my art business with friends and family and with working ad-hoq in temporary work situations for various employers to help finance the venture hasn't always resulted in an easy-osey flow!<br />
<br />
One success of note though was my chance to combine things. Spending time with my nephew, Daniel before he left home for University and I left for my next six month art venture in Australia and New Zealand resulted in a joint art project. Taking old items to be thrown away or discarded helped us both be creative, and helped me guide Daniel in the creative process, and helped me spend good family time. And Mother got a garden picture in the bargain!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4t_7Vaq9XpuI4RgDlKPUxCw5WySKRbHFlUmNQZDtUNW7YSGaP3nvc-NALmMtuyJ3r3wJMnGToZ-nil1rKn1pEsdVUL-UexE03tZJOohxy7rfMOvqSSxFAwCSYbZAfMueMBgl9WXbeXKo/s1600/DSC_0164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4t_7Vaq9XpuI4RgDlKPUxCw5WySKRbHFlUmNQZDtUNW7YSGaP3nvc-NALmMtuyJ3r3wJMnGToZ-nil1rKn1pEsdVUL-UexE03tZJOohxy7rfMOvqSSxFAwCSYbZAfMueMBgl9WXbeXKo/s400/DSC_0164.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dragonfly close-up</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDdZvcUSnR-qRU2UJoKH0qLWM24DSmIene51Bxrmy-IusD1fdODjrQzRMWxK_yZEsy7EI94iZmVPeEgualLSjTLgPqixDwNRMtiuIEkH6CPZgCPhBnPdyRFwX4b_vKEo0cfqSFjlsCc4/s1600/DSC_0161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDdZvcUSnR-qRU2UJoKH0qLWM24DSmIene51Bxrmy-IusD1fdODjrQzRMWxK_yZEsy7EI94iZmVPeEgualLSjTLgPqixDwNRMtiuIEkH6CPZgCPhBnPdyRFwX4b_vKEo0cfqSFjlsCc4/s400/DSC_0161.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Installation in situ</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtDIHqz-fc_6d1t6q9ckxtoRKTDotZYyC-ffEUvZBJ2cShXdnyB7Jso1cQ7EHvLO74H7x7tXYpmhwJVaAKEWHDdj4i8eUxtzsj5BAi1l5UYYTAZpB_Auy9MOeePUi9S8YN9RJZgJde0TU/s1600/DSC_0159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtDIHqz-fc_6d1t6q9ckxtoRKTDotZYyC-ffEUvZBJ2cShXdnyB7Jso1cQ7EHvLO74H7x7tXYpmhwJVaAKEWHDdj4i8eUxtzsj5BAi1l5UYYTAZpB_Auy9MOeePUi9S8YN9RJZgJde0TU/s400/DSC_0159.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dragonfly</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikkRYjf0MbtJaw9wxVuetasueN7PagkmE_d8zoP_IpLQrbbGI35g8LZF7Tbn4YSSgVC-DOaftt3sAHLw45zOnhh_UyiteF81aE5z2qc7rn8eONtY6xvxEJXQN1AK-26f7bqEQvjGb1Mr8/s1600/DSC_0154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikkRYjf0MbtJaw9wxVuetasueN7PagkmE_d8zoP_IpLQrbbGI35g8LZF7Tbn4YSSgVC-DOaftt3sAHLw45zOnhh_UyiteF81aE5z2qc7rn8eONtY6xvxEJXQN1AK-26f7bqEQvjGb1Mr8/s400/DSC_0154.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daniel in action</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaPBacAe1PCKD3Tn-wrHlhabnq6RCJG3rfYC8azWZW7D5gVMoS8xOEHVyRr6x3JTTV233BUi-klH6765fZdb1MSc2Cfhk3uOFs6XfdHosYQg-EnzJX7iUwf7OSVCKQ2hJV_f0RV0X0sEk/s1600/DSC_0156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaPBacAe1PCKD3Tn-wrHlhabnq6RCJG3rfYC8azWZW7D5gVMoS8xOEHVyRr6x3JTTV233BUi-klH6765fZdb1MSc2Cfhk3uOFs6XfdHosYQg-EnzJX7iUwf7OSVCKQ2hJV_f0RV0X0sEk/s400/DSC_0156.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun painting in the sun</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Another nice interlude was gaining the company of dogs in my life by dog sitting. This year has seen me look after Juno and Toby and so couple my Wandering Artist work with house-sitting. Two lovely dogs to look after and such great fun to be around. I have really enjoyed the walks and the cuddles.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2nz5w8-bq-YLASCLSNqghnYDcp65YPqL6Yty7odC9EltOw8QLED6vemuOy1ahMXLpch_TXvQH775nKUlEmRik-1NRhPcG9fYl5wFiw3M3tbHJ6zT4H6wcBBkSfluzZQk07iukkNtiZU/s1600/1503256233374599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2nz5w8-bq-YLASCLSNqghnYDcp65YPqL6Yty7odC9EltOw8QLED6vemuOy1ahMXLpch_TXvQH775nKUlEmRik-1NRhPcG9fYl5wFiw3M3tbHJ6zT4H6wcBBkSfluzZQk07iukkNtiZU/s400/1503256233374599.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Toby...a shared happy pant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu9_OsAtZt8fHTXCdtANvfG3NWbWEBSU9rgB6jqILGDGUZryqs33hLrUR4pU1aU82AbPQqAvhataQyI9Zvoj9_xXMXq3hMcNm5UX7wRH-ChyphenhyphenJSNpMIKUtOKY6nRrEcTWN2-swi7W-cD3M/s1600/20170409_220719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu9_OsAtZt8fHTXCdtANvfG3NWbWEBSU9rgB6jqILGDGUZryqs33hLrUR4pU1aU82AbPQqAvhataQyI9Zvoj9_xXMXq3hMcNm5UX7wRH-ChyphenhyphenJSNpMIKUtOKY6nRrEcTWN2-swi7W-cD3M/s400/20170409_220719.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juno, ready to play</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And house-sitting gave me time to develop new artwork, and this time to change the medium. To use wood as my canvas. Small pieces of ply-wood, that would otherwise have been used for firewood, I have been going through a research and development phase to get them to a canvas I can use in various ways.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9lXYz3hno14eF6Uojkq6n9V7PX-igXN0tZUUmX68abN84a0XoUy2pr77Gg_y4lS3Sfx4XyIXW4kqDGSAN9wmpx7QomT7MrtfbUFZFsiDxsadgeddcK0A2HYL4Rmw04prjS9NGtvJz6k/s1600/2017-05-22+23.42.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9lXYz3hno14eF6Uojkq6n9V7PX-igXN0tZUUmX68abN84a0XoUy2pr77Gg_y4lS3Sfx4XyIXW4kqDGSAN9wmpx7QomT7MrtfbUFZFsiDxsadgeddcK0A2HYL4Rmw04prjS9NGtvJz6k/s400/2017-05-22+23.42.37.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scottish Terrier on wooden block</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2kd5ubDh42ULMIuwEzAWCBsGTQfRMTYB-k6d1zQnPIHjhQLy7e_2VmvwsfE-A9s5tulXQz7dnvpZOAYn6kV90WZJtjyHmFIsKacPkhDCjhd5gNtT5nTtbicUC5KgKr62G3m3cILyOtJQ/s1600/DSC_0121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2kd5ubDh42ULMIuwEzAWCBsGTQfRMTYB-k6d1zQnPIHjhQLy7e_2VmvwsfE-A9s5tulXQz7dnvpZOAYn6kV90WZJtjyHmFIsKacPkhDCjhd5gNtT5nTtbicUC5KgKr62G3m3cILyOtJQ/s400/DSC_0121.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scottish Croft on wooden block</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_EcmE7s59dw8x1IWZrDpU0e96Tf-9GKlI5cUg6SSeZbq2o-LrIHbCGhqg_G_kOujpn1dEyVIqrbe1OfuY1GSO5Xo1rR1dt8Pv7w6wCF115W5AXpx_VCnlRKsaR1ebHsJdz3X_I4e8DKU/s1600/DSC_0095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_EcmE7s59dw8x1IWZrDpU0e96Tf-9GKlI5cUg6SSeZbq2o-LrIHbCGhqg_G_kOujpn1dEyVIqrbe1OfuY1GSO5Xo1rR1dt8Pv7w6wCF115W5AXpx_VCnlRKsaR1ebHsJdz3X_I4e8DKU/s400/DSC_0095.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Cosy Croft range</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Working with wood has become more and more of my medium of choice lately. Finding wood that would otherwise go to scrap or be burned or generally left unused is a growing fascination.<br />
<br />
And again, I have been able to combine this with temporary work as well as pursuit in art and craft. This time working for a wood pallet company. My daily tasks...sort and stack various wooden pallets. Various sizes, weights and condition. Who knew there were so many pallets! Standards, Standard Longs, CP2s, CP3s, EPALs, medium Euros, heavy Euros, Sevens, Nearlies, Blocks...the list goes on...and either good or bad condition...so all this plays to my need for order by sorting and stacking into relevant piles. A mindful day's work and one almighty workout! Hopefully my muscles may soon appear!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMY1XXsp1LF5x31dISK9_541WB243vxUnuFNEEhWd6fxnqzjMpwL-YN6OSR7XQ58YolV7JdTfB6UYI_M_Rad3u0J5Uh5VVdfs6Zp9vyQOXHMKMzQii_Is9fxDhYEND1ofziE7YfwubNNw/s1600/DSC_0266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMY1XXsp1LF5x31dISK9_541WB243vxUnuFNEEhWd6fxnqzjMpwL-YN6OSR7XQ58YolV7JdTfB6UYI_M_Rad3u0J5Uh5VVdfs6Zp9vyQOXHMKMzQii_Is9fxDhYEND1ofziE7YfwubNNw/s400/DSC_0266.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New uniform - safety first!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
To make this work though meant giving up Maude!<br />
<br />
Yes, the time had come to wander on without my motorhome and switch to a more work efficient van...called Red.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBuxNA2RQoGMH7PydHfXqrqzZB9cjoxXKfUEz0OtbNqzM5eKM5_xPYw4M9_MDdE5LCGJTy4TmnJKhekDINS45TP1B2N33fjt6k4SezlTKpCWfKlxmnMglKkX-qN8RDO3MTn09xx3Giwtg/s1600/20170609_155339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBuxNA2RQoGMH7PydHfXqrqzZB9cjoxXKfUEz0OtbNqzM5eKM5_xPYw4M9_MDdE5LCGJTy4TmnJKhekDINS45TP1B2N33fjt6k4SezlTKpCWfKlxmnMglKkX-qN8RDO3MTn09xx3Giwtg/s400/20170609_155339.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farewell to Maude...a year's adventure...hope you have many more!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
It was a bit of a wrench when she was driven up the road. We'd had many adventures together and it has been a fantastic year of transition...good and bad times. And for a while, she was my home and haven.<br />
<br />
I recommend motorhoming to anyone considering it. To look at the horizon. To wonder what's over the hill and go there...without having to pack.<br />
<br />
So during this phase of various work and artistic pursuits, what is my goal?<br />
<br />
Part of me believes that I know it, but I also have a very intuitive side to my nature so a lot that drives me is perhaps unconscious.<br />
<br />
I know there are a number of drivers in my life. To help people. To be creative. To improve myself and learn. These things happen no matter what I do or where I am (though learning is sometimes slow). But there does come a moment when things just click. When circumstances happen and your ability to choose becomes easier...where it no longer feels like a choice, but a necessity.<br />
<br />
I have wanted to be many things in my life. A biologist, an artist, a graphic designer, an actor, a friend, a husband. These are all goals, but at the same time they could be described as the same higher goal. To succeed.<br />
<br />
Now of course, being older, I also know that it includes not succeeding. But again, only if I keep the same mindset in place that restricts things to being separate. Or rather an either/or. To succeed or fail at something is pure illusion.<br />
<br />
You are either something or you are not. Once you've decided to begin, you are simply on the journey, and so are already there. You are that thing.<br />
<br />
So that old adage is true for me. The only true mistake is not to do it.<br />
<br />
Or in a much more fun and new age way of quoting:<br />
<br />
'Do, or Do Not. There is no Try.' Yoda, A Galaxy, Far Far Away.David Dalzell - The Wandering Artisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03581172473846619057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-34512951631399925092017-07-03T22:51:00.000+01:002017-11-11T08:53:44.847+00:00Elders and ElderflowersIt's been a while since I posted. In the last few months, I've had many a challenge. It has been a more focused period of my artistic life, as I have geared up to promoting my work more, and heading towards exhibition, as well as travelling around the country, making a living to help balance the artistic production.<br />
<br />
Being an artist often means balancing what we love to do, with what helps to pay the bills. That means juggling alot. To build towards an exhibition means devoting alot of time that is not instantly rewarding, and also means I have to invest in product, and risk it not being profitable. That's part of the game.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjtL9dF0_oh3uFJ_nXeJal5XLmdiG3rRz7nttMDlTHgw2_T3fA4nFay_2XS_LjGHTHt0M6BKVWynFk___zLo67AoT1CCZCAsTOcRzGBtc_zPUCJsNgY01elPggMuHYT7g3r9cUf7yx5Q8/s1600/20170606_230008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="961" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjtL9dF0_oh3uFJ_nXeJal5XLmdiG3rRz7nttMDlTHgw2_T3fA4nFay_2XS_LjGHTHt0M6BKVWynFk___zLo67AoT1CCZCAsTOcRzGBtc_zPUCJsNgY01elPggMuHYT7g3r9cUf7yx5Q8/s400/20170606_230008.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New work development for market</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3T556YPyxcH77X02VxAdgaTYRt-Ku_loFsB5VSlO71s-jeOqvkPS5uCQoW0HCu3Mf_IL1R2fFn35Rdz6npGOL4oKe7TqPIlp9RQPoLmQKdJRUUC2G8A34dct1QdF1wgOFrMpC4Wvfc2v/s1600/2017-05-31+15.23.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="464" data-original-width="774" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3T556YPyxcH77X02VxAdgaTYRt-Ku_loFsB5VSlO71s-jeOqvkPS5uCQoW0HCu3Mf_IL1R2fFn35Rdz6npGOL4oKe7TqPIlp9RQPoLmQKdJRUUC2G8A34dct1QdF1wgOFrMpC4Wvfc2v/s400/2017-05-31+15.23.39.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proud Watchful Scottish Ram</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
And hence finding other work to help support my passion. The trade, to support the art, whilst I continue to develop, hopefully sell, and refine my current style.<br />
<br />
The energy and resources needed to do this felt enormous, and we all have our limits. I often met mine this time! And I began to rely heavily on the people around me. For a listening ear. For advice. For sounding boards. Or perhaps just to witness the tears of frustration and small deaths that happen each day. The steps forward and the two back...that old cliche.<br />
<br />
"Elders" is a word that began to resonate for me during this time. People in my life that although have walked different paths, have experienced life to an extent that they can advise, and in such a way that helps me grow, rather than to talk direction and tell me what to do.<br />
<br />
My elders are not always older than me, although that is often the case. They just tend to be the person that I happen to be around, and when I listen closely to them, their advice can help. Perhaps not immediately, and perhaps not all is actually helpful in my specific case. However, there is always a sense of support, love, care, and compassion... and endless encouragement.<br />
<br />
I rely so very heavily on these people. My mother, my aunts, my uncles, my sisters, brothers and their partners, my cousins.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfCgcrvfFsE4kfb0cW3KVvs_IiqGIcD9JB9FjqGU1jQO8iK8Sj-yKilxQlAkQJZ5hZ77oNmMUBG1L4sZKSJzoEIvsThyphenhyphenocoz1XbGFTnmdsI0qFMEfgy5pfLqgu5SzMXBxdaHbN28Gcn5D-/s1600/20170610_150036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfCgcrvfFsE4kfb0cW3KVvs_IiqGIcD9JB9FjqGU1jQO8iK8Sj-yKilxQlAkQJZ5hZ77oNmMUBG1L4sZKSJzoEIvsThyphenhyphenocoz1XbGFTnmdsI0qFMEfgy5pfLqgu5SzMXBxdaHbN28Gcn5D-/s400/20170610_150036.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying the sun with Mum in Cromer...searching for the goats!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
My friends too...at this time the advice I have received from my lifelong friends Karen Roberts, Mary-Alice Lloyd, Steven Ahern and Anita Sauvage, have bouyed me up, kept me sane, and kept me going, as well as people I have worked with before, with Linsay Given-Black's timely calming couple of words at my first market experience at the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ArtCraftCollective/" target="_blank">Art & Craft Collective</a>'s monthly pop-up exhibitions. Big challenges have come and with them a feeling of what's important, what's right and what it means to truly love and care for someone when they go through difficulties, as well as successes.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpL42y5y0KtbbdWbhLn0qRxzl8xLBGpqKfPXnWrTsxcT0r-1A3F4Uqu48ldUXDMKr0TCiNduvvPKs41Ey4noKupePiEi18LjwbnUpU8r3zsE3kR3Mmv3v3TVJnAM6tYTG7sLu6pgQVdfMn/s1600/20170603_165159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpL42y5y0KtbbdWbhLn0qRxzl8xLBGpqKfPXnWrTsxcT0r-1A3F4Uqu48ldUXDMKr0TCiNduvvPKs41Ey4noKupePiEi18LjwbnUpU8r3zsE3kR3Mmv3v3TVJnAM6tYTG7sLu6pgQVdfMn/s400/20170603_165159.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary-Alice and me in the garden!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
My nieces and nephews, although younger than me, are often times able to give young seeds of elderflower wisdom too.<br />
<br />
We flower so very briefly, and these days I wonder about how I use, and journey through, my life. I can lose perspective at times as I go on with my goal and passion for art, and I reflect on remembering to enjoy the fruits of my labours, which are the people's friendship and experiences around me...and as my new antipodean friend Dave is apt to say...the rest is just bric-a-brac.<br />
<br />
Sometimes the letting go of a goal helps to let us see where we get to whilst persuing it.<br />
<br />
Alot of my blog may appear very positive and upbeat and very adventurous, and yes it is, some of the time.<br />
<br />
Then there are the darker, scarier, fear-filled and lost times. The introspective times. The times when you doubt things, and lose things. Like friends, family, opportunity, keys to the motorhome, artwork, your temper, your perspective, your emotional control. Without the elders in my life, those that have lost these themselves, and so know; without them, I could not be writing this blog now.<br />
<br />
So I got back to the UK in early spring, and during that time planned, worked, drove from place to place, and made elderflower cordial.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaX_cJGqgPMdJRfsxjRQ0qrXut22fGHk40cxagUfFXnO7fI-dEpz5i1CX5tnhK3V9QwfxkwRj4n3etScqskujBuC7GtVJuI4V7m4GVzBUYfD5V7F9fXv0enLrmZL5twFQrxDgjpQQCaDi_/s1600/20170615_154119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="961" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaX_cJGqgPMdJRfsxjRQ0qrXut22fGHk40cxagUfFXnO7fI-dEpz5i1CX5tnhK3V9QwfxkwRj4n3etScqskujBuC7GtVJuI4V7m4GVzBUYfD5V7F9fXv0enLrmZL5twFQrxDgjpQQCaDi_/s400/20170615_154119.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mother-load</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Elderflowers don't last very long. You get a burst of sweet scent, and a window of opportunity to gather them, place in boiled water with lemon and orange slices, and perhaps too much sugar for our own good, and hey presto, as we go into summer, we can keep the taste of it through the months, and if you freeze it, into the winter months too.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicGrF0jSX4uV-qGGOwtcqglspGNdd_mDBqrDVKTwOYrJYIFapzXk8XhoDCJZ5aW4xD1TJOdiZ4iXDy6YYzW5-juj2sHppKMBtBHvo2BrO1nEzoh56KZQgxYRI5n4iGG1r76wCbALtX1qKv/s1600/20170615_172912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicGrF0jSX4uV-qGGOwtcqglspGNdd_mDBqrDVKTwOYrJYIFapzXk8XhoDCJZ5aW4xD1TJOdiZ4iXDy6YYzW5-juj2sHppKMBtBHvo2BrO1nEzoh56KZQgxYRI5n4iGG1r76wCbALtX1qKv/s400/20170615_172912.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Journey along the canal in Muston, Leicestershire</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
It was one of the seasonal paid jobs I got to help finance myself during this time, and I have to say that it was one of the most joyous jobs I've done. Foraging in the Nottinghamshire and Leicestershire countryside in woods and beside canals, I was of course lucky to be doing it in full sunshine. You get paid by the kilo, and so you do have to pick an enormous number of flower heads, but during my cycling to work as an invigilator for schools, I'd noticed them growing along the canals, and so I was armed with fore-knowledge.<br />
<br />
After elderflowers came the cherry, and making home made (and my first, and extremely frustrating attempt at) gluten-free cherry pie..I have my sister Louise to thank for my growing expertise with this "so-called" pastry ;-). Again, the cherry tree is fleeting, and you have to take advantage of the season, and I loved that aspect of reconnecting with nature.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfoBbuy7urQjEeGQe4DCBz4YDHr0aKciR5X3ck0FKqdnJGgvSmDzfypvnDMW-MQDFrCPhtzk0-N3JcWZ1I4WEO7y-0UjNjVdMilj546JcQvYCbeVK4_bO94Tln3eZRiQRUmzTAUcSUCF_E/s1600/20170607_110038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfoBbuy7urQjEeGQe4DCBz4YDHr0aKciR5X3ck0FKqdnJGgvSmDzfypvnDMW-MQDFrCPhtzk0-N3JcWZ1I4WEO7y-0UjNjVdMilj546JcQvYCbeVK4_bO94Tln3eZRiQRUmzTAUcSUCF_E/s400/20170607_110038.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cherry tree view</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I'm hopefully going to develop my ability at growing things. Creativity comes in all things, and in growing vegetables I have found a highly rewarding pursuit (although at this point I literally only have 4 baby cucumbers, so whether I actually have green fingers or not remains to be seen...only time will tell...<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDgE8m3T5CYerjmoMG_HsM78Kjknrbsa3WRLlAl-_QgluJfT7-8bAQftBB_vDdHQf6kBEYQ3cqn22Mvw4uK75Hr7jUpxnY_R-Bk2W6FJaSh8loxMPDCHNx5061QhKFlytpzZnfsJeWRSZe/s1600/20170615_173303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDgE8m3T5CYerjmoMG_HsM78Kjknrbsa3WRLlAl-_QgluJfT7-8bAQftBB_vDdHQf6kBEYQ3cqn22Mvw4uK75Hr7jUpxnY_R-Bk2W6FJaSh8loxMPDCHNx5061QhKFlytpzZnfsJeWRSZe/s400/20170615_173303.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the undergrowth!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-29042208800465262252017-03-08T22:38:00.000+00:002017-11-11T08:52:50.430+00:00When that Maori God of Earthquakes shakes your world...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiut2DhKmG1RQs5lxPylzbJskej2h7v0t_3J2nYqz3L1P1IbRmFRjfCZFZOAjpeRiBvHegDsVNGuWt8X1dmNUzna4lajzaXIgNENcDHZ1CoemBu8zgJprtsn5Fii_WzuBrq6faFTGk_2ycq/s1600/2017-03-08+19.56.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiut2DhKmG1RQs5lxPylzbJskej2h7v0t_3J2nYqz3L1P1IbRmFRjfCZFZOAjpeRiBvHegDsVNGuWt8X1dmNUzna4lajzaXIgNENcDHZ1CoemBu8zgJprtsn5Fii_WzuBrq6faFTGk_2ycq/s400/2017-03-08+19.56.44.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to explore</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Having become more comfortable with the constant changes of scenery, people, and activities during my travels in the UK, it felt like the time to take a braver step again and go further afield.<br />
<br />
Time for a larger step.<br />
<br />
Which almost proved to be too big a step when right at the start, just outside Thetford, vandals hurled a rock at the bus and cracked the window pane. Two hours later, and one replacement bus, meant we did arrive in time for the plane however!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbW3E4xKV_m-pMogmcdfSFV-NCRhgQkfr8zEFvjTifqskjLhRlghGPMDg4YNIJ17H5AaxU7OTc4gC995JnMN6yO-0Sek_-0sKbMFtOyEoKzvasNz23x3VPwyRllsSlKE3Dg6CAFEek89D/s1600/2017-03-08+19.55.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbW3E4xKV_m-pMogmcdfSFV-NCRhgQkfr8zEFvjTifqskjLhRlghGPMDg4YNIJ17H5AaxU7OTc4gC995JnMN6yO-0Sek_-0sKbMFtOyEoKzvasNz23x3VPwyRllsSlKE3Dg6CAFEek89D/s400/2017-03-08+19.55.27.jpg" width="277" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting to the plane was an adventure in itself!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Sometimes, the massive shake-ups in our lives can be just what we
need. Although not always welcome, they can lead to new, unexpected
things. They can of course also be extrememly devastating.<br />
<br />
<br />
We
spend alot of our lives convinced we are in control, and that our lives
are safe and protected. Living in the UK, earthquakes are not a fact of
life. Arriving in Christchurch, New Zealand, I was met with the
devastating effects of the quakes there, the last in 2011. The city is
still recovering. And the people affected by the earthquakes will always
carry the memory with them.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK3guNUqPpfOkJER-NTYlMkH8xXEDiCqLgZLO5S9_bXTKY8MdNMhYl15TKrHD9FawlH1aHDUHjg8yB0mki4XZ4fh6LyJUtuG41Iu110HXf3mzOvhsg-eQWu393igwUmL3cUTqU0dQIeqzS/s1600/IMG_20170118_231647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK3guNUqPpfOkJER-NTYlMkH8xXEDiCqLgZLO5S9_bXTKY8MdNMhYl15TKrHD9FawlH1aHDUHjg8yB0mki4XZ4fh6LyJUtuG41Iu110HXf3mzOvhsg-eQWu393igwUmL3cUTqU0dQIeqzS/s400/IMG_20170118_231647.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruaumoko - God of Earthquakes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
And whilst being away in
New Zealand, and witnessing what I can only imagine to be hugely
traumatic events, I was struck by the resilient nature of both people
living in New Zealand, and specifically Christchurch. Living with earthquakes, day in and day out, cannot be easy. <br />
<br />
But then, to think about the people who first moved out to this remote island in the pacific ocean, that resilience must always have been there. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqa4KAqLk9_fe9xEN457wIDlszUeXwX5TYKKeUyF5rV91bT-AwxnDfKQu2hBy9Xj4696p6OYAaPQemSAGMFx2mLhCzvq843IKB4bIW9hwUeFNDeiWGlcA3QVeEbdkxOk39kPZKCM2hwbu6/s1600/20170209_160357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqa4KAqLk9_fe9xEN457wIDlszUeXwX5TYKKeUyF5rV91bT-AwxnDfKQu2hBy9Xj4696p6OYAaPQemSAGMFx2mLhCzvq843IKB4bIW9hwUeFNDeiWGlcA3QVeEbdkxOk39kPZKCM2hwbu6/s400/20170209_160357.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tram in Christchurch gives tourists a journey through the transitioning city</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I was greatly struck by the touches of similarity, and the shades of
difference here. A nice pace, friendly (oh so friendly) people, and
whilst on South Island, so few people. Vast swathes of countryside
without settlement. The 1950's is the decade most frequently associated
with it, and this was often felt, in the architecture and the
lifestyles.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPCkVLjsN9ZOMeyfKijzWlxNifKQM32WOPlvNxiCiswmbzh1lgewBj2uvIRJVFPpF5d8WBSg2keGybLL6IDvR7LlVNrFiwzs-zJy6OPjgO-jgVMerZ0hNa_bW8-PoZqmz5gMHtYkOnJim-/s1600/2017-03-08+19.52.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPCkVLjsN9ZOMeyfKijzWlxNifKQM32WOPlvNxiCiswmbzh1lgewBj2uvIRJVFPpF5d8WBSg2keGybLL6IDvR7LlVNrFiwzs-zJy6OPjgO-jgVMerZ0hNa_bW8-PoZqmz5gMHtYkOnJim-/s400/2017-03-08+19.52.18.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cows in the sunny fields</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8H2bJeGhCEw-jbKIt2nOG92F9QzYwdN6bXl48o0y6zV7LNsl5job1kEVXQfpm_bbe37LvCrYNrgWskVr8AHhdosj9eOj3fC2KbQsHmgPyeQlqwkvLNwxF8R1VC-ta9vU5nsZsaVImkpkW/s1600/2017-02-28+16.59.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8H2bJeGhCEw-jbKIt2nOG92F9QzYwdN6bXl48o0y6zV7LNsl5job1kEVXQfpm_bbe37LvCrYNrgWskVr8AHhdosj9eOj3fC2KbQsHmgPyeQlqwkvLNwxF8R1VC-ta9vU5nsZsaVImkpkW/s400/2017-02-28+16.59.03.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gentle river walks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The landscape is hugely dramatic. A relatively young country, its mountains are still growing and shaping and they literally cut into the sky.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1c5Y1JA_QtWyKXjFYS_NJnbJAPhA6npcHrwead9h6cpAm38ultI_UJHdgo9_4ZWxqdeT1sHN28_XsztG-I2WAq-_NuTFvYmgtalkILg-1qq8UjWDTLICu7MiJAAqAcIqWo35cm1ztPtUn/s1600/20170207_151827.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1c5Y1JA_QtWyKXjFYS_NJnbJAPhA6npcHrwead9h6cpAm38ultI_UJHdgo9_4ZWxqdeT1sHN28_XsztG-I2WAq-_NuTFvYmgtalkILg-1qq8UjWDTLICu7MiJAAqAcIqWo35cm1ztPtUn/s400/20170207_151827.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The grey waters rushing down from Fox's Glacier</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb0cm6QoEBHwgMFa1U4tH6blyhVvUCImY9SZrf7I2U9Yuwh9Pq0OLCBsSzpdOjr1rM-LFpPu24teR04Q5vuII_ek9WgDJaAVxSI8Q7n1gITtLq8y4gPmPyPJLjTOW9012Y37tnH6w76cKO/s1600/20170208_150227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb0cm6QoEBHwgMFa1U4tH6blyhVvUCImY9SZrf7I2U9Yuwh9Pq0OLCBsSzpdOjr1rM-LFpPu24teR04Q5vuII_ek9WgDJaAVxSI8Q7n1gITtLq8y4gPmPyPJLjTOW9012Y37tnH6w76cKO/s400/20170208_150227.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highrise roads winding through Arthur's Pass</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaXxSrljxE7gC389-EHLpJ0CZT8v5hQA5_INcicM02k49aDoQ1Mokk7g2MJ5v97y5ixfhTZjt_ktX6o4l-5EfShn3rh_EGw15udbz6JOA5krfgQALf5N_nUApthxPwoFdOQha4-BgVW24/s1600/20170207_152833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaXxSrljxE7gC389-EHLpJ0CZT8v5hQA5_INcicM02k49aDoQ1Mokk7g2MJ5v97y5ixfhTZjt_ktX6o4l-5EfShn3rh_EGw15udbz6JOA5krfgQALf5N_nUApthxPwoFdOQha4-BgVW24/s400/20170207_152833.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Falling glacial waters</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
New Zealanders have a terrific obsession and love affair with the classic car, and examples could be seen on farms, in the street, at remote hotels, and in fields...anywhere really. They were a joy, and give a sense of period frozen in time.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-58ad-R91HmV6PwgH8ZiaFNURIWAP_VZ8cireaWY02hujCDVP-mTMhQLVaTtF456Y2oWWz0S6dggyL5YV3gAiuGOlyhbukkoVTJ5HPfSziWy2xVIgMmZpyu0L8n2YI5xBx3Zjiu8Vid9C/s1600/20170208_142619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-58ad-R91HmV6PwgH8ZiaFNURIWAP_VZ8cireaWY02hujCDVP-mTMhQLVaTtF456Y2oWWz0S6dggyL5YV3gAiuGOlyhbukkoVTJ5HPfSziWy2xVIgMmZpyu0L8n2YI5xBx3Zjiu8Vid9C/s400/20170208_142619.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting comfortably at Otira Stagecoach Hotel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3V8D081Ln5-xDOWnF_yXWQ-5oODjjMamftCiafrPfCZ4Nn__s9l0UnJJ7QYhqW-U6SkFaVf8PEzcGulqTD6gi7ma3RlvEPr2WR5VYTunYQ5ppyB3wQDvdGgTZDlvhLaWASa990hBQAlBN/s1600/2017-02-06+10.15.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3V8D081Ln5-xDOWnF_yXWQ-5oODjjMamftCiafrPfCZ4Nn__s9l0UnJJ7QYhqW-U6SkFaVf8PEzcGulqTD6gi7ma3RlvEPr2WR5VYTunYQ5ppyB3wQDvdGgTZDlvhLaWASa990hBQAlBN/s400/2017-02-06+10.15.18.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grasshopper</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRTBoGrido34atGWl8kfSxPk0Tz7h-ZQjqVZI_Dl9nb7l3OjCbCLMhsvr0mH3s4Wg8UjlHT5Vekif9dg9VazLP59gTMhtcyn1lc423K7LJr8MQekvu8aArDJvTj8dHU4vE-ZC_moRILLbK/s1600/20170213_191245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRTBoGrido34atGWl8kfSxPk0Tz7h-ZQjqVZI_Dl9nb7l3OjCbCLMhsvr0mH3s4Wg8UjlHT5Vekif9dg9VazLP59gTMhtcyn1lc423K7LJr8MQekvu8aArDJvTj8dHU4vE-ZC_moRILLbK/s400/20170213_191245.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More film set than street in Murchison</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7TnW8NoUrROSJpRiR8es4kDsJ209m6kb4W2suFG15BTZCyMja-BoLVYhctdhcyJinzK43b8i4zlQiemwA2sfHTd-8Lp8vbqjZ00lTGQLc5W-is9hE64U3F3E2LFwheAbZ5uyei-CZsXs/s1600/2017-02-05+13.43.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7TnW8NoUrROSJpRiR8es4kDsJ209m6kb4W2suFG15BTZCyMja-BoLVYhctdhcyJinzK43b8i4zlQiemwA2sfHTd-8Lp8vbqjZ00lTGQLc5W-is9hE64U3F3E2LFwheAbZ5uyei-CZsXs/s400/2017-02-05+13.43.06.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old faithful</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I was able to take more time working on my journal during the visit. There is nothing more relaxing than sitting at an old harbour on Golden Bay and sketching, or cutting and pasting bits and pieces out of old bus timetables to help re-create your travelling day to Lyttelton, Christchurch's port.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9_TV4xhyphenhyphentvtZl9Q_kXa7NTUOS5Ryf7BFlzzd0Om2hWIbPesINtzIYEUVEHKvUlpe0CNhX-pO5-8lkGhPgpnB3fEs_2oIghxLRoBrhyphenhyphenVEm3DqzgkMAjfSkgtzVCucpxERDwPb_Ekx3tzy/s1600/2017-01-31+18.36.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9_TV4xhyphenhyphentvtZl9Q_kXa7NTUOS5Ryf7BFlzzd0Om2hWIbPesINtzIYEUVEHKvUlpe0CNhX-pO5-8lkGhPgpnB3fEs_2oIghxLRoBrhyphenhyphenVEm3DqzgkMAjfSkgtzVCucpxERDwPb_Ekx3tzy/s400/2017-01-31+18.36.45.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Golden Bay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRntf2gr4sO9NVgAgQ6q5Sf3dqCxeX0WEnn9_dZUQW73BvymNn4jccfEb_NQeqx4SUQs_kJRgqUE7xhi6Nz6KEd5yResa7D81Mcs3Q6S5UgVisyzwkBdm9sproa8h26Qj1viY93ZhAc5ms/s1600/2017-03-08+19.48.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRntf2gr4sO9NVgAgQ6q5Sf3dqCxeX0WEnn9_dZUQW73BvymNn4jccfEb_NQeqx4SUQs_kJRgqUE7xhi6Nz6KEd5yResa7D81Mcs3Q6S5UgVisyzwkBdm9sproa8h26Qj1viY93ZhAc5ms/s400/2017-03-08+19.48.32.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Capturing the day creatively in my journal</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As well as finding the people really friendly, the wildlife can be too, although sometimes a bit over-familiar. The curious Kea birds for instance can present something of a challenge, and have been known to strip the rubber off vehicles, and steal anything left unattended. A moment of horror was had when I realised that I had forgotten to close the driver's window of the hire car! Disaster was averted however.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwiv1Wmpckx3koA5qDSMEf8tbYfS7PyXdJEdCEdyjji01hnVvYKoivhHPiRQUkQiqaKR_JzjdBBxech5NKRivYXA9NaEf4-6stPtgYGsNNvm0_xnKkm1VuS9THq5kVQrvcPZOpk_6Lfafq/s1600/2017-03-08+18.23.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwiv1Wmpckx3koA5qDSMEf8tbYfS7PyXdJEdCEdyjji01hnVvYKoivhHPiRQUkQiqaKR_JzjdBBxech5NKRivYXA9NaEf4-6stPtgYGsNNvm0_xnKkm1VuS9THq5kVQrvcPZOpk_6Lfafq/s400/2017-03-08+18.23.06.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kea birds are full of michief!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Kea birds aside, other experiences with animals proved to be much more cordial, including friend Gavin's dog, Cody, on the beach, which proved to be much more civilised, and the three sweet dogs belonging to Shane and Damien in Picton...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7apy8TKJoVzbl_8TqmoZ9JmmO2vE-s5gj-0HE-ifoHFTFXpCbk9pOXviiTCWn18-vrfreN92VikEAKUi0xw_POS4ttOPIMmYxfMfMo-jqzCxTIUTaEMd-_1Pjga1SK-vRjLZ4Nq_SJ4SC/s1600/2017-02-13+18.58.54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7apy8TKJoVzbl_8TqmoZ9JmmO2vE-s5gj-0HE-ifoHFTFXpCbk9pOXviiTCWn18-vrfreN92VikEAKUi0xw_POS4ttOPIMmYxfMfMo-jqzCxTIUTaEMd-_1Pjga1SK-vRjLZ4Nq_SJ4SC/s400/2017-02-13+18.58.54.jpg" width="278" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cody and friends at the beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWH_GvKBDlI3A3JLMBzzn_9zle0esWSz6Ca_hFmHDg6k_ojkaVPPs_wXqngvW-UTu1j4AuJFh9mQduN5irRtTw_hnOo1wl9EXN20TDV1txEuezhMIscz9cvIO0wMp0wnPTu9NrzdQ2iBgN/s1600/20170219_004015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWH_GvKBDlI3A3JLMBzzn_9zle0esWSz6Ca_hFmHDg6k_ojkaVPPs_wXqngvW-UTu1j4AuJFh9mQduN5irRtTw_hnOo1wl9EXN20TDV1txEuezhMIscz9cvIO0wMp0wnPTu9NrzdQ2iBgN/s400/20170219_004015.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zorro, Zanthia and Zina with Shane and Damien in Picton</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
There is a great contrast between the North and South Island of New Zealand. The South is sparcely populated, with the vast majority of people living on North Island. And the majority of people living on North Island live in Auckland.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvqXrxOvN8LI-DmgYt2dvxGB4zR8iOFO2OFbxCS59lx-3vdZtvJUm95Ac0PSXcMjULHI7dKaVQJAaKKyeVXCDLEgI6f-U_7cR8WNwEZH7hOX4bgtq1jpOo3VFw9W82uXcq1VJvxnUQ1rY/s1600/2017-02-24+22.06.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvqXrxOvN8LI-DmgYt2dvxGB4zR8iOFO2OFbxCS59lx-3vdZtvJUm95Ac0PSXcMjULHI7dKaVQJAaKKyeVXCDLEgI6f-U_7cR8WNwEZH7hOX4bgtq1jpOo3VFw9W82uXcq1VJvxnUQ1rY/s400/2017-02-24+22.06.21.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Auckland harbour perspectives</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxDCn2haGkCl13bT80DxM0XnEXGkmZLzByudMYw1y3ySZIHOp2rQ5sxT8kR9Y6kawBc-tiZ7ut-SKFZ-UYbInK3udYJUtBIqekQH3vEikX8wZLPWLks2oAwpGNvuUW4Z0VZ-yFnfA4Ejtk/s1600/20170222_204123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxDCn2haGkCl13bT80DxM0XnEXGkmZLzByudMYw1y3ySZIHOp2rQ5sxT8kR9Y6kawBc-tiZ7ut-SKFZ-UYbInK3udYJUtBIqekQH3vEikX8wZLPWLks2oAwpGNvuUW4Z0VZ-yFnfA4Ejtk/s400/20170222_204123.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ferry Building, Auckland</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Auckland was exciting, and huge, especially when compared to my previous locations. Other cities on North Island were not as large, but had their own unique and perhaps gentler qualities. Wellington for instance at the south of North Island, although windy most of the time, does have a relaxed atmosphere to it. Towns and cities on South Island appear to be much more gentile.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA8ZkPZ8R220VJfymXcC-1hfNVm9qERodVPud1JxMVYUrX9k33IDKnui8fGGYW60ZgAC0tZlPlLftmcsMtfwm2kiUTubACCScLQY1aFuRO6vw4Kv96y4qaL4vfHlrSF-GZyiojtm_GXXmP/s1600/20170219_120711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA8ZkPZ8R220VJfymXcC-1hfNVm9qERodVPud1JxMVYUrX9k33IDKnui8fGGYW60ZgAC0tZlPlLftmcsMtfwm2kiUTubACCScLQY1aFuRO6vw4Kv96y4qaL4vfHlrSF-GZyiojtm_GXXmP/s400/20170219_120711.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Precarious at the seaside in Wellington, North Island</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKbpOz1LifA9sBDBNmr6llElpMebTj8kTa4VhfIB9SqulNHyJpQH0Rld4LmwlrqC2OSk7d1B2Wgr6eh7FJSZkVuxwdFBxXyWm6aA3pd4iE0eryFZh9qd16bacewSPIRskW28tevzVbpy2s/s1600/2017-03-08+19.50.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKbpOz1LifA9sBDBNmr6llElpMebTj8kTa4VhfIB9SqulNHyJpQH0Rld4LmwlrqC2OSk7d1B2Wgr6eh7FJSZkVuxwdFBxXyWm6aA3pd4iE0eryFZh9qd16bacewSPIRskW28tevzVbpy2s/s400/2017-03-08+19.50.44.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grove Station in Nelson on South Island</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And the towns and cities on South Island again have their own unique characters, with Nelson even presenting a train station from yesteryear.<br />
<br />
Part of my stay in New Zealand involved volunteering at Autumn Farm, near Takaka, and there I spent a significant amount of time making new friends, and strong connections with people.<br />
<br />
Faced with dashing all over to explore as many places as possible, I was to spend alot of my time in one place, and I found it a wonderful opportunity to delve deeper, really get to know people, listen to their stories and settle into a place.<br />
<br />
As part of the placement though, I was able to take part in housekeeping, newsletter production and even a spot of being a waiter, and also ground maintenance and gardening...especially needed after a storm developed with hurricane force winds, bringing down one of the large trees shortly after my arrival!<br />
<br />
Many people come to unwind here, and enjoy their time away from work, and as well as gain experience of varied tasks, I was able to take part in wine tasting events, as well as go on walks with guests, and even experienced the local agriculture shows, with sheep shearing and log chopping competitions.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3sp-TBLwQle862VSGFPBk69imTer-vZ53Bot5EEpKqToRvoi8rtO9yP5VGwfHR6KoTflStvX5aiQBU79ovLHKwrIwaRxwXN0RQEc3GrfEpe2MWEbhjudkpwNGfoEojOu0OLZPeORDcYT/s1600/20170128_115826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3sp-TBLwQle862VSGFPBk69imTer-vZ53Bot5EEpKqToRvoi8rtO9yP5VGwfHR6KoTflStvX5aiQBU79ovLHKwrIwaRxwXN0RQEc3GrfEpe2MWEbhjudkpwNGfoEojOu0OLZPeORDcYT/s400/20170128_115826.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making friends whilst volunteering!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSux5vF_Psqyih4-qPED8k04duncqSjWRgKnGDyxCqU5ghje1C08NfbPWLll_jSE6QSpMaNu1384OCwLQRY6s0OIQH8hr90v_KDAa6OX1BxD1phREdUG92y3MkyUZbOmHArntZuXudmBLh/s1600/20170217_211813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSux5vF_Psqyih4-qPED8k04duncqSjWRgKnGDyxCqU5ghje1C08NfbPWLll_jSE6QSpMaNu1384OCwLQRY6s0OIQH8hr90v_KDAa6OX1BxD1phREdUG92y3MkyUZbOmHArntZuXudmBLh/s400/20170217_211813.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Housekeeping of characterful accomodation like the Ark</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Even though there was ample work to do, I would still have time to unwind with friends and paint and travel out into the countryside.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_E9RldNSBV2AoXc1LgpFn71IMWdu_s-QQmFbDOZrp93ngCIlCWe9xnAe9kUOpXsCi7LSCstCZbu60d8hNWdFQl5PtdNtA7UW36P6p3l7eaeqptFug52HJbbR4oM-6pe8b4uV2H6ArCjc0/s1600/20170203_181831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_E9RldNSBV2AoXc1LgpFn71IMWdu_s-QQmFbDOZrp93ngCIlCWe9xnAe9kUOpXsCi7LSCstCZbu60d8hNWdFQl5PtdNtA7UW36P6p3l7eaeqptFug52HJbbR4oM-6pe8b4uV2H6ArCjc0/s400/20170203_181831.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The road goes ever on</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Not all my experiences in New Zealand were fun however.<br />
<br />
During the visit, I learned of the untimely passing of my good friend Alex Kinnear. Our friendship had lasted for over 18 years and to find yourself on a different side of the planet at that time shook my world. The repercussions of this loss would, I am sure, always be with me. And it reminded me of the precious nature of all our lives. This definitely reminded me to make the most of this time and every day. We meet people for a reason, I believe, and they say too, often for a season. I experienced many changing seasons with Alex, and the final winter came far too soon, and unexpectedly early. The influence she had on me though, was tremendous. As is the influence of many people in my life.<br />
<br />
And although I was to experience the loss of such a good friend whilst here, I also gained connections with other precious people. Again, these people have appeared for a reason, and I look forward to exploring that further. The experiences gained have enriched my life and given me a much wider perspective. Something I shall always be grateful for.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQqW7CYbjmkbWA7zhI9_hbid6OcpZiRNhXkyItYfXScy9eM_thdzvq1ll0wwE_da1_INyV7dfjqpeMul0T3HuM0qTHvp23L2NZj_mlIrUEKMnsWG_cG5xnHXrBdcpieJ2vsrbUHLWxn4h/s1600/20170130_202218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQqW7CYbjmkbWA7zhI9_hbid6OcpZiRNhXkyItYfXScy9eM_thdzvq1ll0wwE_da1_INyV7dfjqpeMul0T3HuM0qTHvp23L2NZj_mlIrUEKMnsWG_cG5xnHXrBdcpieJ2vsrbUHLWxn4h/s400/20170130_202218.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A perfect day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cgbTflx3eNk1tnQOwK3AZyU92GVK6HYCKwkd8znAZ4i09EvPkI5RreM5MGPCzoZHWAC1Oo7uNRsZK8i99iXlIc75TiRJLdTFI2zkOPwpCzYUFqSJI3YH2C6OS9JxpW2Tx5-rZhbrW7-n/s1600/20170226_155650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cgbTflx3eNk1tnQOwK3AZyU92GVK6HYCKwkd8znAZ4i09EvPkI5RreM5MGPCzoZHWAC1Oo7uNRsZK8i99iXlIc75TiRJLdTFI2zkOPwpCzYUFqSJI3YH2C6OS9JxpW2Tx5-rZhbrW7-n/s400/20170226_155650.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Street painting</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Oh, and although I didn't go to see Hobbiton, nor visit places made famous by The Lord of the Rings, during a visit to Otira Stagecoach Hotel, I may just have found the Precious!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSOTmUxlPkbhWJxSmvFvIZcZWX0qPg0I0bwhpQdhxl4NNUDqDQyDtM-xTt6TTeRXND4t5kg4ppH37qO7mfE-1m5VwO8JjF2FObKFWMsfz963RZjdfwgLYg-kCha3aAUlwLnR7KzAib-oR/s1600/20170208_141859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSOTmUxlPkbhWJxSmvFvIZcZWX0qPg0I0bwhpQdhxl4NNUDqDQyDtM-xTt6TTeRXND4t5kg4ppH37qO7mfE-1m5VwO8JjF2FObKFWMsfz963RZjdfwgLYg-kCha3aAUlwLnR7KzAib-oR/s400/20170208_141859.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gollum?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-30020445805424166882016-12-03T17:21:00.000+00:002016-12-03T17:44:54.211+00:00Recreation of a woman's journeyWhat would you do if someone asked you to produce a piece of artwork based on their mother, who had recently died? Yes? No? Um...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNu-dOQAW-k3lJ6HO0yPEL_fCKHffrIyPVzz6LRZvAbSSuo4aHbWt3bD-RdwTdoLzvw1wik_T6ziJ8smppfDKoQ4G7PbxB0oo91DbsXmauNOhatEiR-J1icqHSaTJyZRNvcWRT4qPF_GRC/s1600/anitas-commission.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNu-dOQAW-k3lJ6HO0yPEL_fCKHffrIyPVzz6LRZvAbSSuo4aHbWt3bD-RdwTdoLzvw1wik_T6ziJ8smppfDKoQ4G7PbxB0oo91DbsXmauNOhatEiR-J1icqHSaTJyZRNvcWRT4qPF_GRC/s400/anitas-commission.jpg" width="277" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The journal of a woman's life</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Although I had said yes, almost automatically, this year saw a major artistic challenge for me. And at times, deeply question my belief that I could meet this request, let alone produce something that would connect to them in any meaningful way.<br />
<br />
You must understand that I did know the person who had asked me...very well, and for a number of years, and this person I would trust with my life. However, I had only met the mother of <a href="http://www.anitasauvage.com/" target="_blank">Anita Sauvage</a> once, Colette Sauvage, and it was towards the end of her journey.<br />
<br />
This was to be a very sensitive piece of artwork. To dissapoint was not an option, but so possible it at first defeated me.<br />
<br />
It would also see its production taking just over a year.<br />
<br />
The idea for the piece would take most of that year to even come to me, let alone to work on.<br />
<br />
Circumstances would also see the piece delay in creation, due to the subsequent death of Anita's father, which, I would later realise had connected to me subconsiously during the commissioning period, and during the subsequent months.<br />
<br />
The commission began with chatting to Anita and listening to her talk about her mother's extremely interesting life, noting her choices, her jouney from Algeria, through Spain to France, her work as a seamstress, her love for her family, for modern art and for her garden.<br />
<br />
Three objects to go by. Three photographs. Three stages.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAk19EkZU_5lxLDXhxrvF82mYcgXH-Yf5HQE9TPgsm8pCPZ8SkerBS1J8A9MnYahyZm93pE5JV4XoZRYQPTRrXyHosw-OslSefgn6WQ47gTrMFCBYuYuOkP1QtjiJKubJIgDITOWUlXEGj/s1600/DSCF4089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAk19EkZU_5lxLDXhxrvF82mYcgXH-Yf5HQE9TPgsm8pCPZ8SkerBS1J8A9MnYahyZm93pE5JV4XoZRYQPTRrXyHosw-OslSefgn6WQ47gTrMFCBYuYuOkP1QtjiJKubJIgDITOWUlXEGj/s400/DSCF4089.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In youth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-JRDFrhbR6gPntWn9TohyJg-RxuAZ5ujM-OsYLJsrwbVbahaue6w9zvApbOyfmfebcfz_3dYaorqoD6ItVr06JuQYqvLynf4OvNFira__-Ad8DPhMkWWNYW1EE9HT7B16mR-kgvyHl8M/s1600/DSCF4090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-JRDFrhbR6gPntWn9TohyJg-RxuAZ5ujM-OsYLJsrwbVbahaue6w9zvApbOyfmfebcfz_3dYaorqoD6ItVr06JuQYqvLynf4OvNFira__-Ad8DPhMkWWNYW1EE9HT7B16mR-kgvyHl8M/s400/DSCF4090.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A young woman</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTXQd-x2d6tLTZgE-urtHWoOYtbbP8mY-tZSz9ojgJzYN5oJjtmjgeRSk9DerM5vhJTEGC6EXA7d1SI8i2aIvazaZClvFR9juR3uSWGhY0t5-Gr0EEqnJtr7JUtlcQM3mbxMf2ZaA5Q8Bz/s1600/DSCF4092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTXQd-x2d6tLTZgE-urtHWoOYtbbP8mY-tZSz9ojgJzYN5oJjtmjgeRSk9DerM5vhJTEGC6EXA7d1SI8i2aIvazaZClvFR9juR3uSWGhY0t5-Gr0EEqnJtr7JUtlcQM3mbxMf2ZaA5Q8Bz/s400/DSCF4092.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A mother</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This piece enabled me to pull together many of the techniques developed over the past few years. Watercolour, pen and ink, abstract photography; my skills would be needed once I had committed to the piece, and to weave this life together. Starting the project came at a time when I was also sensing the deep moments of loss in my life - facing the loss of job, house, and remembering the loss of my own father. These deep emotions connect us all, and are thus universal.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYgICz7iAuxd7hmXe46izP_AC54hko1BjDn5aYDe-9wJwIBFqbIm4TFuTKEkZTi50Gk3wPTjJtg2mKCe_ubTMYNfPZigrfvmE1RkKVKtWuszvr50Eu24MwtTnn4Hpef3cjTFbGBHp8-t4/s1600/DSCF4093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYgICz7iAuxd7hmXe46izP_AC54hko1BjDn5aYDe-9wJwIBFqbIm4TFuTKEkZTi50Gk3wPTjJtg2mKCe_ubTMYNfPZigrfvmE1RkKVKtWuszvr50Eu24MwtTnn4Hpef3cjTFbGBHp8-t4/s400/DSCF4093.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Becoming familiar with a woman not known</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9U1MMXmEM82VWJmd6puPWUrA5Y0qdv3q3oyv9aHziffS5WA9NStxkyNErymFiNS0JYJy3t1s1z86NMNxBdTqMzrTSY2vLxqJjZvIITTSuNEp1M9LtVoEXv1lekSPClmAF_IRnjPV6dTrC/s1600/DSCF4094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9U1MMXmEM82VWJmd6puPWUrA5Y0qdv3q3oyv9aHziffS5WA9NStxkyNErymFiNS0JYJy3t1s1z86NMNxBdTqMzrTSY2vLxqJjZvIITTSuNEp1M9LtVoEXv1lekSPClmAF_IRnjPV6dTrC/s400/DSCF4094.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emerging patterns</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUbnG0mEMCPKFTgqu2QPGOEmoQRLJpRAPPsxKBlgdEJ2Q4zpJcPehqjEZ-hUXnQ937r5XfZXkkJJBbqMVNwu6hW7Tr7bJ043k8GuzDq1sfB_9uOrsMttjN83d_K9gYoDvPhfv6ShtYOcm/s1600/DSCF4095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUbnG0mEMCPKFTgqu2QPGOEmoQRLJpRAPPsxKBlgdEJ2Q4zpJcPehqjEZ-hUXnQ937r5XfZXkkJJBbqMVNwu6hW7Tr7bJ043k8GuzDq1sfB_9uOrsMttjN83d_K9gYoDvPhfv6ShtYOcm/s400/DSCF4095.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Developing a weave</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I love detail. I have an eye for it. Met with a woman I did not know really threw me headlong out of my zone of comfort. I had very little detail to go on. A few words, a few pieces of paper, with literally just moments of the past. I would need to trust in my intuition.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVvthJcRvGkEz3uOLgcYImZcDWnAm1r7ztMTjLRT5JC9aUPXaXlcOZ_vdyUBeBe7NNni0G7NN5o8e0GG46vYW6LuxxD3Pa2saLxCOF5V70GYWR2qNgmefICP-_2y5rOBLZmh3kqbExaxj/s1600/DSCF4097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVvthJcRvGkEz3uOLgcYImZcDWnAm1r7ztMTjLRT5JC9aUPXaXlcOZ_vdyUBeBe7NNni0G7NN5o8e0GG46vYW6LuxxD3Pa2saLxCOF5V70GYWR2qNgmefICP-_2y5rOBLZmh3kqbExaxj/s400/DSCF4097.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Letting go of detail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The piece for me would ultimately represent a tension between the detail that we see, and that which we don't. The missing pieces in everyone's life. The initial studies would give me the chance to exorcise the detail...to give it air, and commit it to paper. And once I had developed the more detailed portrait, I could then reduce my representation of the woman herself, and move this into my renditioning of her surroundings, in the technique itself, and not to try to place it into her shape, her reflection.<br />
<br />
For me the few words would have to do...journey, garden, seamstress, husband...bird.<br />
<br />
Once committed, the piece began to emerge, and take shape...taking note of previous artist's use of weaving and tapestry, I would couple the history of this woman as a seamstress and my technique for almost weaving pen and ink lines.<br />
<br />
The journey from Algeria would help me connect her final garden to its origin in maps.<br />
<br />
And, coincidental, magical connections would be included, with the addition of the Algerian nuthatch...the migrating bird; migrating like this adventurous woman. It would later appear, and prove to connect to Anita's father, Jacques - where the bird would signify her father's career as a French pilot.<br />
<br />
Beautiful happenstances are always so precious, and once Anita saw the finished product, and was pleased, and moved (I am happy to report), it quickly became obvious that I had captured more than I thought. For me, the almost tear-nature of the jewels, hanging from the draped fabric across the garden and grapevine, bore a remarkable resemblance to one of Collette's favourite necklaces. I just love the moment when these unexpected coincidences are made!<br />
<br />
The final stage would also see her daughter take a hand. Enabling the memory of her mother to be placed, literally in her mother's choice of modern sunglasses, it would prove to be a fitting final signature touch, with the detail of her mother's gaze hidden from view.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwmY-tRiydBIYbrlE69yVflbE7qbiDUeGQZYLO9XUtsB_N5Hpm4Qbql5Mwi8DfMyTa35XZxATUYo2GFt1dukT2x3LR2iZ_3GiL1yE3vUU8ilQHczHK6AH7MuXLdoKIBenQi3fO0bGbWoBD/s1600/anitas-commission.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwmY-tRiydBIYbrlE69yVflbE7qbiDUeGQZYLO9XUtsB_N5Hpm4Qbql5Mwi8DfMyTa35XZxATUYo2GFt1dukT2x3LR2iZ_3GiL1yE3vUU8ilQHczHK6AH7MuXLdoKIBenQi3fO0bGbWoBD/s400/anitas-commission.jpg" width="277" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colette - in her garden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-8072237585871887092016-11-16T13:19:00.002+00:002017-11-11T08:54:16.458+00:00Caught by the MimihsArrived in Wales for my next voluntary visit in (and bring on the start of pronounciation challenges) Machynleth, the ancient capital of Wales.<br />
<br />
Maude arrived in style this time. Having been driving over two days from Norfolk to Wales, I had reached Shrewsbury and needed a top up of diesel. So, we pulled into the next garage, stopped next to the pump and I applied the handbrake as usual... and it came up much further than usual... with a loud snap!<br />
<br />
Lucky for me, the forecourt was level and unusually for me I sat quite calmly and thought "ok, now what?" Walking into the garage produced advice for the local Halfords but by the time I got there, riding the clutch and with burning smell from the rear brakes having not totally disengaged, I pulled up close and phoned the breakdown people.<br />
<br />
"Can you actually start the vehicle?" A calm measured voice asked me as I stood next to Maude in the dark in a business park.<br />
<br />
"Yes" I said.<br />
<br />
"Well technically it's not a breakdown".<br />
<br />
My calmness began evaporating fast. After asserting my reluctance to journey without said handbreak, explaining that if someone hit me I would be unable to stop myself hitting another vehicle in front, and not being able to ride the clutch all the way to Wales, they eventually picked me up... Maude rode on the back of a truck for the rest of the trip and I had a great conversation with the rescue chap. We talked about everything and set the world aright and then got placed on a garage forecourt in Machynlleth... in time to be picked up by Jonni, and Stellar the Jack Russell... driving up the hill to their traditional Welsh house and my first look at the Gypsy caravan in which I would be spending my first few nights.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGb99UO2VgdV0BGCLXLzgt9lv8M9N4XbPDMJzAB3O5PZOKkG2PWTcq4iLXcn_efR3vNYauGA8d5wqyIJUa4yy7APReWnBlIrYZL_ts9werGt5WoJuxqhBNjp9_yNhIG_c_AuIRyRPgFAEx/s1600/20161005_093738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGb99UO2VgdV0BGCLXLzgt9lv8M9N4XbPDMJzAB3O5PZOKkG2PWTcq4iLXcn_efR3vNYauGA8d5wqyIJUa4yy7APReWnBlIrYZL_ts9werGt5WoJuxqhBNjp9_yNhIG_c_AuIRyRPgFAEx/s400/20161005_093738.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beautiful bedroom for the next few nights</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA0WUM3q72GDGiZnSuPLdcdSlW_EhNdjXsxNR2kLoEMhWZoSjICGUPruncOs7PCxoDwFqiMUiX2litpeMZSE15qyrWPRvP5URYXosLKP_D0ugCCwZsihBuGAN9q4N4qqoS2Q3R-leZiml3/s1600/20161005_083120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA0WUM3q72GDGiZnSuPLdcdSlW_EhNdjXsxNR2kLoEMhWZoSjICGUPruncOs7PCxoDwFqiMUiX2litpeMZSE15qyrWPRvP5URYXosLKP_D0ugCCwZsihBuGAN9q4N4qqoS2Q3R-leZiml3/s400/20161005_083120.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My morning view</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Pippa had painted this caravan after being taught by a retired gypsy painter and such a lovely job. Pippa's skill was trulyevident. The wood burner inside was aptly named a "hobbit" and that night I felt really toasty.<br />
<br />
Work at Pippa's and Jonni's was varied, and quite physically
demanding. The location of their house and workshops was in an area of
Wales that although stunning and beautiful, can be a bit unforgiving.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZuQDnrh5Q1IBvFftyLQ-LadnHizfy2Ym7qIbROf7I8cgnqLDHxmLjfKqUOreHY1YHkd8ijMdTWpykDaR7yCI4DYHs3pvIYuWIH_PuPt6FZqfaFswN-8Q2XqkGsBlGMcngd4qTfZvopDj/s1600/20161011_180531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZuQDnrh5Q1IBvFftyLQ-LadnHizfy2Ym7qIbROf7I8cgnqLDHxmLjfKqUOreHY1YHkd8ijMdTWpykDaR7yCI4DYHs3pvIYuWIH_PuPt6FZqfaFswN-8Q2XqkGsBlGMcngd4qTfZvopDj/s400/20161011_180531.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset in Wales</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Wood chopping,
path digging, pipe burying, paving stone laying, vegetable garden
digging, dog walking and dry stone wall excavation would see me kept
busy for the next two weeks.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAbA5EBSSrlEAH_w8ecCSEuxy5qtQapPztn7t7530EqZ3i7GpOlTqoa7vZbcLm3PDBpoqAYyDXrJPaSLjTZSVxOGpexSme8n3cCvlQENWPltKWWC6_1jk_dfKUBSDGnXVgF8VQonjrnoiz/s1600/20161013_165418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAbA5EBSSrlEAH_w8ecCSEuxy5qtQapPztn7t7530EqZ3i7GpOlTqoa7vZbcLm3PDBpoqAYyDXrJPaSLjTZSVxOGpexSme8n3cCvlQENWPltKWWC6_1jk_dfKUBSDGnXVgF8VQonjrnoiz/s400/20161013_165418.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going all Andy Goldsworthy with my wood chopping arrangement<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN0jbfq44Du4PP3MCs4HX67EbLvKo8hyEHz8WAgYonbHg5HNBvIcFwnkCL0mWm5Jq87sadzRgKnk3DN61Ax_-0q9YGbsJ3WGscHVmx_jE8Thc6RHzUt1YYXddFthiU0Chv_82cMdEpUO6C/s1600/20161014_173555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN0jbfq44Du4PP3MCs4HX67EbLvKo8hyEHz8WAgYonbHg5HNBvIcFwnkCL0mWm5Jq87sadzRgKnk3DN61Ax_-0q9YGbsJ3WGscHVmx_jE8Thc6RHzUt1YYXddFthiU0Chv_82cMdEpUO6C/s400/20161014_173555.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Demanding, but mindful task of extracting an old dry stone wall<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrBjR3iWapOtoLpd9NZws8ELRifQeY3Pv4x3YlDWzAlxY98HbBveg9op3-veSkxnWG3CGV8d-kBFoJY2PydEJFx0WIRqDiKGV7WMsSOFhoS69BkLoANlDkc3J6AFfo6-zZIAqJNld1goea/s1600/20161012_171603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrBjR3iWapOtoLpd9NZws8ELRifQeY3Pv4x3YlDWzAlxY98HbBveg9op3-veSkxnWG3CGV8d-kBFoJY2PydEJFx0WIRqDiKGV7WMsSOFhoS69BkLoANlDkc3J6AFfo6-zZIAqJNld1goea/s400/20161012_171603.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New paving<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnzM7ZkMGsph8GV9kaP2bI_UlgW5ZZyRAiDyfbGVGYRtXRPORh-FMiWPkUJPXdOufg_3JAfV9P50RlyAr7F7OYSjMHYkFqBu0DLy0kDeMYhL6whfM6pqtwXPrbC5Y-Kp3vqyqf4fBBc9gw/s1600/20161015_112326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnzM7ZkMGsph8GV9kaP2bI_UlgW5ZZyRAiDyfbGVGYRtXRPORh-FMiWPkUJPXdOufg_3JAfV9P50RlyAr7F7OYSjMHYkFqBu0DLy0kDeMYhL6whfM6pqtwXPrbC5Y-Kp3vqyqf4fBBc9gw/s400/20161015_112326.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preparing the land<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I was joined in the second week by Noah and Lucy and Lucy was to introduce me to Mihmihs. Aboriginal Australian mythical creatures.<br />
<br />
These strange, mythical beings were said to be around before humans, and taught them all sorts of things, including how to draw. They had very delicate bodies however, and very long necks which would break really easily, so they only ventured out on the stillest of days without a hint of wind.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_1jT5p2xDL3T6RFtr-RFbXfhvvuoGa_4jJ1nqbYyyAv04tH9uAkHQhBiF1DDRdG0yMGJdHD452EW9kThi_nYbF2Xy0UyIt5lvGJy0ov86pi4g5j3H9CXgn6lkzxPknUuVMX-hv7h2yA2O/s1600/mimihs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_1jT5p2xDL3T6RFtr-RFbXfhvvuoGa_4jJ1nqbYyyAv04tH9uAkHQhBiF1DDRdG0yMGJdHD452EW9kThi_nYbF2Xy0UyIt5lvGJy0ov86pi4g5j3H9CXgn6lkzxPknUuVMX-hv7h2yA2O/s400/mimihs.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagining the Mimihs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
All was going quite well until into the second week I came a cropper with the slate of Wales. I would like to say that I was endeavouring to battle against the local mountain top, Cadair Idris, and hurt myself whilst rescuing someone...but no. I had Stellar, the Jack Russell, in Maude's cab, and whislt avoiding her and paying more attention to Stellar, than what I was doing, as I stepped out of Maude, I turned my ankle on the uneven ground. A very simple thing to do, but the effects were quite dramatic. Foot and ankle then promptly blew up to twice the size, and bruising would sweep across the whole of the foot, and it would take almost 2 weeks to settle down properly.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpWRZbP4K7_FlQpo8Ixqr4aFtf_tEsKpNMNaEDVz7tLa7yUD99s3bIBVZP9Bv_SVXlLZ9VwxBZ_f1iRehLPrZkBqsUkF7MYyP-ZGZx8hhNvGu6jJFA-yCGEQrON8MFEpItZIV7C5PNXor/s1600/20161012_181001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpWRZbP4K7_FlQpo8Ixqr4aFtf_tEsKpNMNaEDVz7tLa7yUD99s3bIBVZP9Bv_SVXlLZ9VwxBZ_f1iRehLPrZkBqsUkF7MYyP-ZGZx8hhNvGu6jJFA-yCGEQrON8MFEpItZIV7C5PNXor/s400/20161012_181001.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking (or hobbling) wounded</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
To counter the slightly negative event, that night, whilst journaling, I would render Stellar into an entry, together with the outdoor bath (with fire underneath to heat it) that I would encounter whislt volunteering weed clearing help at Pippa and Jonni's neighbour down the road. This style of journaling was inspired by Donna, an artist I met previously at <a href="http://www.breathingspacenorfolk.com/" target="_blank">Breathing Space, Hickling, Norfolk</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rONPwFKo4fdjjXySGWbXCTCSW2iEgVw7NXtoRGH-JschZGUD88HrOripmHhtM60Z3CmizE478rLu8sboxdGUs7WxhOkdrpOWx1pu6uA-ZO7ePUB5YCS6joovO5tcS8xBuThtlgvbKB4S/s1600/stellar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rONPwFKo4fdjjXySGWbXCTCSW2iEgVw7NXtoRGH-JschZGUD88HrOripmHhtM60Z3CmizE478rLu8sboxdGUs7WxhOkdrpOWx1pu6uA-ZO7ePUB5YCS6joovO5tcS8xBuThtlgvbKB4S/s400/stellar.jpg" width="277" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Capturing Stellar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
With all my tasks complete, I would have time in Wales and during the journey up North to explore two old childhood books. Books I still like to revisit.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dark_Is_Rising_Sequence" target="_blank">Susan Cooper's The Dark is Rising sequence</a>, and the fourth novel in this Arthurian legend based series, The Grey King, is set in the very area surrounding Machynleth...and I would have a chance to visit the mountain, Cadair Idris, the Bearded Lake - Tal-y-Lyn, and <a href="https://www.visitsnowdonia.info/craig_yr_aderyn-251.aspx" target="_blank">Bird's Rock</a> , Craig yr Aderyn (the only inland nesting area of the Cormorant). I was able to immerse myself within the atmosphere of the tales, and imagine the author's visits to this area. No wonder it could inspire such wonderful tales of a child's quest against the forces of the dark wrapped around the age old love story of Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere, and the modern day coming of the Pendragon.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCl0I6qyyGPkfiKOt6lNe-eXASSXCKsrazGhCSc3kl3YOWmRE0Vbxa7bgvcYs7kUtS6ctzNMnRDyKqBYJH4Hl0X4h62XYXKOPJkS1ZTfREIAY3KAqqvTENERiPUvq8rKt60rzNcjeBWTj/s1600/20161015_154242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCl0I6qyyGPkfiKOt6lNe-eXASSXCKsrazGhCSc3kl3YOWmRE0Vbxa7bgvcYs7kUtS6ctzNMnRDyKqBYJH4Hl0X4h62XYXKOPJkS1ZTfREIAY3KAqqvTENERiPUvq8rKt60rzNcjeBWTj/s400/20161015_154242.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still waters on Tal-y-lyn at the foot of Cadair Idris</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEH3fO2M4W6TnF2JufoTBb8G68MA4NAxhWik1mzXEXg_J8G4weoI7VOH7Zcpj-hdvNoJT07A3FfNo3BUqNUa2aBT9hrNpPlchwH-3H8XkioBBSJ0C_IMuFP5TbwBeQ7TXO8ZI3xFYonv0o/s1600/20161015_152119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEH3fO2M4W6TnF2JufoTBb8G68MA4NAxhWik1mzXEXg_J8G4weoI7VOH7Zcpj-hdvNoJT07A3FfNo3BUqNUa2aBT9hrNpPlchwH-3H8XkioBBSJ0C_IMuFP5TbwBeQ7TXO8ZI3xFYonv0o/s400/20161015_152119.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bird Rock, Dysynni Valley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Travelling back over the border into Cheshire, would then see me visiting the other mythically based children's book, the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Weirdstone_of_Brisingamen" target="_blank">Weirdstone of Brisingamen</a> by Alan Garner. This is set on Alderley Edge, near Macclesfield, and is the first book of a trilogy, again based on old English myths, this time around the guardian of the underworld, an old wizard, keeping safe the sleeping knights and their steeds, needed against the battle at the end of the world.<br />
<br />
The Wizard is both Alderley Edge itself, and a pub on the Edge. Talking to a Cheshire man, who grew up in the local town of Alderley, it would m that there was a possible re-birth of the myth. The story is based on the a farmer who meets a Wizard on the Edge. The farmer is taking his horse to the local market. The Wizard, who has lost one of the steeds of the sleeping knights needs the farmer's horse. The farmer refuses the Wizard's price, thinking to get better at the market. The Wizard sees to it that the farmer will get no offers at the market, and on his return journey, the farmer again meets the Wizard. The Wizard tells the farmer to enter a cave and to take as much treasure as he likes in return for the horse, and this time the farmer accepts.<br />
<br />
On talking about the Edge, the man I met told of the belief that there is a man (a scientist) that is living in a cave on Alderely Edge, and how this cave hasn't been found. Given the storyline of Alan Garner's third book in the trilogy, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boneland" target="_blank">Boneland</a>, I was forced to wonder whether myth formation was on its endless journey of recreation. I didn't mention the plot of the book to the man...keeping his serious belief in place.<br />
<br />
I loved this mythically rich stage of my journey, wizards, kings, quests, mimihs and magic abounds!David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-54045868048450388742016-10-14T23:02:00.000+01:002016-10-14T23:13:35.353+01:00Upcycling in the Norfolk BroadsBeing creative is for me a very important pursuit, and it can of course be expressed in a variety of ways. My usual want is to paint onto paper, canvas, board or other flat surface. This has been a mainstay of my artistic approach for some time.<br />
<br />
Now, arriving at <a href="http://www.breathingspacenorfolk.com/" target="_blank">Breathing Space</a>, a bed and breakfast and women's retreat near Hickling Broad, run by Mags, with a great team of people, I would be given the chance to expand my creativity in a new direction, being inspired greatly by all the people there.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZD3Fc9MvdrUX8sOEwZxegKp3OUwcI2n7Sw2dfLCQO-QfQqLmUFKB-FjyqyvuUGUHUCr53BidjGl5G_NqlMawed-cd-wncO6aCCJNGCxbJMKEF5mXtQDPlRuEDjc6lyCVj47U5tnsGMNxz/s1600/breathing-space-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZD3Fc9MvdrUX8sOEwZxegKp3OUwcI2n7Sw2dfLCQO-QfQqLmUFKB-FjyqyvuUGUHUCr53BidjGl5G_NqlMawed-cd-wncO6aCCJNGCxbJMKEF5mXtQDPlRuEDjc6lyCVj47U5tnsGMNxz/s400/breathing-space-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heath Priory's re-worked sign</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I was excited to arrive at Heath Priory, and to meet Mags and all the
wonderful people in and around the site, over the next 2 weeks, and I
would be inspired by their ideas, presence and their general attitude to
create a variety of new and useful objects. Arriving in Maude may have
been a slight shock though...Maude is slightly bigger than an average
campervan, though small for a Motorhome...I must remember to give people
more warning...though she did (just) between the trees down the drive, I
think I gave people there a little surprise...where to put her!?!?<br />
<br />
Settled in eventually, and with
materials that could be found in and around the work space, I would be
brought out of my comfort zone, into the world of upcycling old, and
previously used objects.<br />
<br />
My first task was to re-paint
the Heath Priory sign, and bring it more to the attention of passing
motorists. I was inspired to paint a dragonfly on the sign - a symbol of
transformation, the dragonfly being a creature of two worlds - born in
water, it will end its life in the air. Encouraged by one of Breathing
Space's people, Daphne, and her ideas for bringing attention to the
sign, with the use of colour, I quickly found some sequines, which would
catch the light, and help attract the eye.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEievD5_Nro8I8iYpKuvxHI4lSuaCAsRj4usp1iooUswfsSyG2Zh5gV2KafpvGD1VZEvMy8Rx-EXgrUc1qrnlSi1HLz6dnB07HXP2Xe6mkatsgueizZXwQoLzH0TMuHhW1u_dP0HFFbDcHyZ/s1600/breathing-space-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEievD5_Nro8I8iYpKuvxHI4lSuaCAsRj4usp1iooUswfsSyG2Zh5gV2KafpvGD1VZEvMy8Rx-EXgrUc1qrnlSi1HLz6dnB07HXP2Xe6mkatsgueizZXwQoLzH0TMuHhW1u_dP0HFFbDcHyZ/s400/breathing-space-6.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heath Priory sign in its new place</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As well as the energy and vitality of the people I was meeting at Breathing Space, there was of course also the air and surroundings of my home county, and the Norfolk Broads have always been a wonder to me, as I am often drawn to water in one shape or form. I find the quality of the Broads to be extremelyt relaxing in nature, and its huge skies and serene landscape helps me be at ease<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GwqKVDL2ZFmEpYPcj1DStNUWCm8Z_282CLW2EPwLI1UX-EPEW25lic_iM1Nb-i8LGxkrsjjrFK3svcwOf6XCTtk4I-dg-RjpBqwP09lmntcSzgIcR7l0RECcfcxjnGCoOQ6CHCX7V6qe/s1600/breathing-space-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GwqKVDL2ZFmEpYPcj1DStNUWCm8Z_282CLW2EPwLI1UX-EPEW25lic_iM1Nb-i8LGxkrsjjrFK3svcwOf6XCTtk4I-dg-RjpBqwP09lmntcSzgIcR7l0RECcfcxjnGCoOQ6CHCX7V6qe/s400/breathing-space-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hickling Broad</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBoCJh94-38TTfqvvwatHOQhFbHnX_GlMFaAMK9HspJvAiwYkhCys81jONydbII4Pg8GYsECsCVzOI0WPLdq37Z3dDLoyEJR_iKRvrwMn0UwJTN9PKm3yvty9JVX_z1tgEysjDnDWHVlhB/s1600/breathing-space-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBoCJh94-38TTfqvvwatHOQhFbHnX_GlMFaAMK9HspJvAiwYkhCys81jONydbII4Pg8GYsECsCVzOI0WPLdq37Z3dDLoyEJR_iKRvrwMn0UwJTN9PKm3yvty9JVX_z1tgEysjDnDWHVlhB/s400/breathing-space-3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset near Stalham</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Confidence building, I was next tasked with making a sign for the washroom, and to remind (gently of course, with the addition of a subtle smiley face, rather than a harsher pointy finger!) to keep things tidy. After scanning the area, I came across some old skirting
board, which was ideal for sign making. I would be able to use my pen
and ink style and with <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3oPVxtvRY3mxt5e1-q5O_8mtUimK6mtXs5t7T82H74BHRbT39lcsXqSzmLmr1_CO4OvEjE-axJX1U25HPonoDkAeppVeS32P5uwrAf20Pb1jdxyaxzBMrM8Gy3AUMoCkXFS8ZyN9o_Q2/s1600/breathing-space-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3oPVxtvRY3mxt5e1-q5O_8mtUimK6mtXs5t7T82H74BHRbT39lcsXqSzmLmr1_CO4OvEjE-axJX1U25HPonoDkAeppVeS32P5uwrAf20Pb1jdxyaxzBMrM8Gy3AUMoCkXFS8ZyN9o_Q2/s400/breathing-space-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sign for the washroom</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtItpWjJdnvE9227MCvJjGuZHNzck98P_wzGiiGB_p813KwFPhi5CztNN38pb7vvtOh5-bf9_AYuZLycU_xIhU8f208Q-aiDP3jD7E8PUKXu6Vn4zloe5GvfCbmQk7g6BZjNVHBQKEKCWS/s1600/breathing-space-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtItpWjJdnvE9227MCvJjGuZHNzck98P_wzGiiGB_p813KwFPhi5CztNN38pb7vvtOh5-bf9_AYuZLycU_xIhU8f208Q-aiDP3jD7E8PUKXu6Vn4zloe5GvfCbmQk7g6BZjNVHBQKEKCWS/s400/breathing-space-5.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And in its final position</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sign up, it was swiftly onto the next, not so straight-forward of tasks. Shoes...these are of course needed, and having the external washroom, and needing to keep it clean and tidy, the removal of said shoes was a must. Now...what if it rains...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Need for a shoe shelter.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Another wander around manifested some old slats of wood, nails, and a shoe lace, and with Spencer's timely finding of a naturally shaped off-cut of wood, this inspired the roof of the shelter...with some holes drilled in both the slats and the off-cut, I soon had the makings of a roof!</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd_bRBTMv1eVxVbWFT4H8DWCr8uZw0st7rAsRHrGUfVGIooyMXkKvmFkGq6D8PFn_Ie2SIrusiMrLs-QjKWrNEAdnzI_zpYtQ_OwKZhGM2_isHUTBTmxnsJkf1292ewMUL_5KS8uSlimGb/s1600/breathing-space-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd_bRBTMv1eVxVbWFT4H8DWCr8uZw0st7rAsRHrGUfVGIooyMXkKvmFkGq6D8PFn_Ie2SIrusiMrLs-QjKWrNEAdnzI_zpYtQ_OwKZhGM2_isHUTBTmxnsJkf1292ewMUL_5KS8uSlimGb/s400/breathing-space-7.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One tied on wood shoe!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5pXL5f8qxxLSb_diLCTTPZRXofwQZoHMRgbCFF6jKz0VtH5y-fMSSq1w4510QZ56CZhkuatBo4woMX1N9L1I8WpwpzQXYL8NqVOH3Z1McBE2rMf6_GrYWRwVb__2MWFNPf_j7mrzcAcN/s1600/breathing-space-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5pXL5f8qxxLSb_diLCTTPZRXofwQZoHMRgbCFF6jKz0VtH5y-fMSSq1w4510QZ56CZhkuatBo4woMX1N9L1I8WpwpzQXYL8NqVOH3Z1McBE2rMf6_GrYWRwVb__2MWFNPf_j7mrzcAcN/s400/breathing-space-9.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tricky construction</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The next stage I found more tricky...and this would see me giving it 3 attempts before I got the construction right, but eventually the frame of the shelter was created with some more found material, and attached to the roof. It only remained to give the frame a couple of coats of paint, and it was ready. The shoes could now be well and truly sheltered out of the rain.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkOfJ25bghbLNxDwYEt2TXWgw_iThmIqF-XBem-JduqVXeZJAwj8DQ9siK3b5e_2XyIrsGsEhFEbhCF4BiiVtNrrVCE3sCrNL_Srr_ResMMBowO0wKyJm9my27YYlEOGSkgfbD-ClGDGf/s1600/breathing-space-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkOfJ25bghbLNxDwYEt2TXWgw_iThmIqF-XBem-JduqVXeZJAwj8DQ9siK3b5e_2XyIrsGsEhFEbhCF4BiiVtNrrVCE3sCrNL_Srr_ResMMBowO0wKyJm9my27YYlEOGSkgfbD-ClGDGf/s400/breathing-space-10.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Completed shoe shelter</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It was then back to sign making (I was getting a bit more comfortable again...signs felt safer)! This time a sign for the "Flower Room" was required. More scanning around, and the odd scratch of the head, and the continuous concentration wrinkles appearing on my forehead as I wandered back and forward, coming back to scribble on paper, or listen to people chat, and have ideas, or point things out. The - voila! Candle holders...of course...in pink and green and then...an old watering can head, and an old blue button...then some ties and...a Flower Room sign</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZNI6nl_dLHgwIo_ZXp2gFJaJGJkEj-uyivehrGM0djgv6TC7GvH-opU4o2-EB2De_usxMgioCljvT2Ig614F76OaoDCgPqQEnHgY1XTXESSsnz5IDQqsNDWbeiy2YFs0PSPcwi2TQv4E/s1600/breathing-space-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZNI6nl_dLHgwIo_ZXp2gFJaJGJkEj-uyivehrGM0djgv6TC7GvH-opU4o2-EB2De_usxMgioCljvT2Ig614F76OaoDCgPqQEnHgY1XTXESSsnz5IDQqsNDWbeiy2YFs0PSPcwi2TQv4E/s400/breathing-space-11.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old candle holder finding a new purpose</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESTjk7RN_M4nWuAH_lpRoa6ztZEXE1OxmsHaK5gInzSlZo22ZghPyhT-BrYT-Ysy48BUgquBJXSwu7jZDf_ioNFvQrkza8TZ5HGDGD-Vf9t0SKKiqn4Vt2FK-KZUAx9XBWa9J3zA2LVCJ/s1600/breathing-space-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESTjk7RN_M4nWuAH_lpRoa6ztZEXE1OxmsHaK5gInzSlZo22ZghPyhT-BrYT-Ysy48BUgquBJXSwu7jZDf_ioNFvQrkza8TZ5HGDGD-Vf9t0SKKiqn4Vt2FK-KZUAx9XBWa9J3zA2LVCJ/s400/breathing-space-12.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flower Room sign in all its glory</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And then the "French Room", which Mags had asked for me to make a touch glitzy...I had just the thing in mind for that of course, after the road sign, so...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbZsWFDrVrs9vCM2-ecufGinMxSZp2883hwTqJnT_-YMc5eCtq1hPy6011pyXnL5dZN7xwtkCKhpo2oVvtyjHDvaF6ATNVylyUPGh9Zw9QPf_LhDrkLDDgioa_G2kiY9BjTs3d29gkP1T/s1600/breathing-space-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbZsWFDrVrs9vCM2-ecufGinMxSZp2883hwTqJnT_-YMc5eCtq1hPy6011pyXnL5dZN7xwtkCKhpo2oVvtyjHDvaF6ATNVylyUPGh9Zw9QPf_LhDrkLDDgioa_G2kiY9BjTs3d29gkP1T/s400/breathing-space-13.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From design to creation...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
re-enter sequines...with off-cuts of wood I had been using, and a touch of paint and hey presto! I had the Eiffel Tower caught in this tribute to gay Paris!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQtiQuv822OV7b4EQ6oP0BCy-LVuyjrirhkzYzsWbE1ZQWS_gH2WPJ7jTk8G7vjw55PiKglm3E4mZo1VnnsfrhKswchfQ9S5PUjHm_1DuzChekHXqTiWW2amidU4VwF2NhB9mG5T6RACcF/s1600/breathing-space-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQtiQuv822OV7b4EQ6oP0BCy-LVuyjrirhkzYzsWbE1ZQWS_gH2WPJ7jTk8G7vjw55PiKglm3E4mZo1VnnsfrhKswchfQ9S5PUjHm_1DuzChekHXqTiWW2amidU4VwF2NhB9mG5T6RACcF/s400/breathing-space-14.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to go...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I had been finding this environment wonderfully creative, and enjoying my stay immensely. With the company and friendship of Mags, Josie, Paulina, Donna and Spencer, and everyone at Breathing Space, I had found a different outlet for my creative endeavours, and I hope to return here again soon.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVPEswvam4Ptzn7k0PzWXAd8-sGX-BpRqKch-Kdajbrqmu91-kY4qC6XfC3esEPTCY98k0ND5GSWGlhyphenhyphen9Bn0EAHbG3mgdg58DeJro5-wsA49G3tgxKb3pwm_rZ7GGX-oSJ74XDbzFA5ZA/s1600/winterton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVPEswvam4Ptzn7k0PzWXAd8-sGX-BpRqKch-Kdajbrqmu91-kY4qC6XfC3esEPTCY98k0ND5GSWGlhyphenhyphen9Bn0EAHbG3mgdg58DeJro5-wsA49G3tgxKb3pwm_rZ7GGX-oSJ74XDbzFA5ZA/s400/winterton.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winterton-on-Sea, near Hickling Broad, Norfolk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It had been a magical first visit, and as the final snapshot showed, had filled me with joy!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhruEziodTowU7xFoSgm4ghQGYSfAnfA4_u7_3X97zjkR80TN2D2KWsLr3kcZR6dRdEmXWZwTT_xyJ9v2zVAXp2L3MHAK0Xc3geF8zMsUd0x7E_85j_mwW-TjDOScB8c4bn0GJV7Vgah8/s1600/breathing-space-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhruEziodTowU7xFoSgm4ghQGYSfAnfA4_u7_3X97zjkR80TN2D2KWsLr3kcZR6dRdEmXWZwTT_xyJ9v2zVAXp2L3MHAK0Xc3geF8zMsUd0x7E_85j_mwW-TjDOScB8c4bn0GJV7Vgah8/s400/breathing-space-8.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sums it up really</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-54502774309442223252016-09-11T12:59:00.001+01:002016-09-12T21:21:17.979+01:00The War of The Rose(s)...Continuing the journey from Ulverston, and my visit to Lancaster, I then began my meandering way across the country, eastward, and eventually over to York, being very aware of the old rivalry between the branches of the house of Plantagenat, those of Lancaster and York, and the War of the Roses.<br />
<br />
I would encounter a battle with a rose myself, once I made it to Pocklington, York, but of the natural variety.<br />
<br />
Before that, and with my first voluntary session under my belt, I was feeling more comfortable, and was taking things a little more gently...time to recharge my batteries, which would be very wise, once I got to my next placement.<br />
<br />
So I parked up in a few places outside Kendal, and Kirkby Lonsdale, and got some proper sketching and painting done.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_aFqshVolsIHQCAnesJm54FsIjpbecWSuslg5lMgcL_393NJjaun3WYbedrX0qFw4UDJPhMuWE-31ya2l2XaLY_tuxpBG4uD2gV_Q0gJZVSnCD6olICkSdYa1P-UeqRMmDQlbUEONNjS/s400/Rescan+Branthwaite-Brow-Kendal.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="292" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chocolate House on Branthwaite Brow, Kendal</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_aFqshVolsIHQCAnesJm54FsIjpbecWSuslg5lMgcL_393NJjaun3WYbedrX0qFw4UDJPhMuWE-31ya2l2XaLY_tuxpBG4uD2gV_Q0gJZVSnCD6olICkSdYa1P-UeqRMmDQlbUEONNjS/s1600/Rescan+Branthwaite-Brow-Kendal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a> </div>
<br />
I am sure the fact that this lovely building in Kendal, on Branthwaite Brow, housed a chocolate shop had nothing to do with my choice...of course, it was soley due to the characterful chimney stacks and roofs! Of course, chocolate had no impact on my motivation...but perhaps to finish the piece, it might be a reward.<br />
<br />
Kendal was very friendly. Whilst sitting there painting, I was approached by the local knitting shop owner and the estate agent, and offered coffee and a really friendly chat, which is a great way to spend the day in this lovely town.<br />
<br />
The next two days would see me driving up the road to the nearby market town of Kirkby Lonsdale, South Lakeland district of Cumbria. Which has famous views of the river Lune. Often drawn to water, I also have a fondness for old architecture - always astounded by the long-lasting nature of older constructions. Those monks really knew how to build things that lasted.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8G_4QMQrpNQlFU7tGnrm6ZR0LGQRVuBdDOrCEU5_oa8dI4_RFaIxXsG09uwSy_7Kh57Za4Ig0YkHwgieuuQWRpxQctLnIaPhJQ3EE8_ESiS9KRkMpXkKUhMisrjrUURy-n6fp_AOxqt1G/s1600/Rescan+devils+bridge-kirkby-lonsdale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8G_4QMQrpNQlFU7tGnrm6ZR0LGQRVuBdDOrCEU5_oa8dI4_RFaIxXsG09uwSy_7Kh57Za4Ig0YkHwgieuuQWRpxQctLnIaPhJQ3EE8_ESiS9KRkMpXkKUhMisrjrUURy-n6fp_AOxqt1G/s400/Rescan+devils+bridge-kirkby-lonsdale.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Devil's Bridge - Kirkby Lonsdale, Cumbria</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I spent a lovely afternoon sitting on the banks of the Lune, drawing the bridge, and was able to chat again to a mother and her son, who were interested in how the day's drawing was going, and I was able to talk through the technique.<br />
<br />
The next stop, on the following day, found me coming across a really famous view. Originally painted by the master artist J.M.W. Turner, the art critic Ruskin, who may have been inspired to go there after seeing Turner's rendering, and who had defended Turner's work in his book Modern Painters in 1843. Ruskin said that an artist's principal role is "truth to nature". That sense of paying attention to nature and being true to that when interpreting within visual art is an ongoing practice. In capturing the atmospheric nature and force of the skies, Turner certainly showed his expertise, and is incredibly inspiring.<br />
<br />
Ruskin's view, as this scene became known, and "one of the loveliest views in England" was therefore a challenge, and capturing it in my style, whilst exploring some of the colour in the view would therefore be my morning's project. The view is deemed to be perfectly balanced between the view of the river, flood plain in the midground, and forest area, as well as the background hills.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2lS4IUUN5pQZwahUtvbiLV2JNwHkOPwgx6lACoUCAoAPp5sRLsUl5JOtTClzdJd0XJ6M-RoHPDD2LaSr1TIB2T73TWR_vq0rYMGHS9hVUuoTYg5ffDPwGvbuFI0zGmtw2eakA5OvIWvb/s1600/Rescan+Ruskins-view-kirkby-lonsdale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2lS4IUUN5pQZwahUtvbiLV2JNwHkOPwgx6lACoUCAoAPp5sRLsUl5JOtTClzdJd0XJ6M-RoHPDD2LaSr1TIB2T73TWR_vq0rYMGHS9hVUuoTYg5ffDPwGvbuFI0zGmtw2eakA5OvIWvb/s400/Rescan+Ruskins-view-kirkby-lonsdale.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruskin's View</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It then began to rain, quite heavily, so I managed to make my way back to the centre of Kirkby Lonsdale, and after lunch, take refuge in the central covered Market area. I glanced across at a lovely tudor building, and noticed the pigeon's roosting on the roof, and looking a little sorry for themselves. So my day's sketching could continue, even in the rain.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZCYcL7ExRlR9857snQroZxIHb81SX7j3SpGkUxZlowPSoyRTDag36fOy5MFItwGLI-b6kFl1nWoWU7PeXx0jeDFfGtpaabbELs5wool5NEgoOSfK7nu1iAKFVUDHZnZL1Kwgy2K-bZsd/s1600/Rescan+Pigeons-rest-kirkby-lonsdale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZCYcL7ExRlR9857snQroZxIHb81SX7j3SpGkUxZlowPSoyRTDag36fOy5MFItwGLI-b6kFl1nWoWU7PeXx0jeDFfGtpaabbELs5wool5NEgoOSfK7nu1iAKFVUDHZnZL1Kwgy2K-bZsd/s400/Rescan+Pigeons-rest-kirkby-lonsdale.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pigeon's Rest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Having spent a few days in Cumbria sketching, I then began a trip to meet up with friend's Melvin and Kate, where Maude was going to have a wee little challenge of her own, as we journeyed up towards <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dent,_Cumbria" target="_blank">Dent</a>, in Cumbria, (confusingly still within the Yorkshire Dales National Park after the border being moved). <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp3BEwk58Ly1E6aKllNw6kIIsOyxwxR-ssqFLmqLtHM52dufl7kn1hWmq5EjmOogzqx3Z82mUlHMLVVzaeyduIWrofs907QhnIkbRuwuzdPMFjkCJakiBAY0BwGLHkQAyk82v2_nKjTY7t/s1600/20160812_161238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp3BEwk58Ly1E6aKllNw6kIIsOyxwxR-ssqFLmqLtHM52dufl7kn1hWmq5EjmOogzqx3Z82mUlHMLVVzaeyduIWrofs907QhnIkbRuwuzdPMFjkCJakiBAY0BwGLHkQAyk82v2_nKjTY7t/s400/20160812_161238.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Single track road to Dent, hoping not to meet another car!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This would see me spending a lovely weekend with Kate and Melvin in Dent! Gorgeous scenery, getting a wee rest, and with Kate's help, scanning in some of my sketches! We were also able to explore the spiritual path of the Quakers - and I learned a bit about the Society of Friends, and the beginnings of the movement with George Fox, having had a vision in Lancashire, and converting the Seekers that he met from that point. A visit to Briggflatts, near Sedburgh also gave me time to look at the Quaker Meeting House, and soak up some of the peaceful atmosphere, heavy in the air in that beautiful place.<br />
<br />
From here though, I needed to move on to my next placement, in the rival house of York, and the forthcoming battle with the rose. Pocklington, a village just a few miles east of York, holds another Buddhist retreat, and this time my energies would be channelled both into gardening and general maintenance, and I would discover physical stamina than I thought I had!<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_xjFMVeykN7vfa2RyC5UPTJ4a6Ds3wF1HHaN7kxzDcLm6TcuQ-LAr4bAQEoHlTOiPB2JR8XCL70e-XyADqx1Xd3U9dW94OTH8a64leDhOqE-m5Tv6AOsY-PCFJ_grjFTysrlGzJ3lHTKa/s1600/20160815_172845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_xjFMVeykN7vfa2RyC5UPTJ4a6Ds3wF1HHaN7kxzDcLm6TcuQ-LAr4bAQEoHlTOiPB2JR8XCL70e-XyADqx1Xd3U9dW94OTH8a64leDhOqE-m5Tv6AOsY-PCFJ_grjFTysrlGzJ3lHTKa/s400/20160815_172845.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The start of the excavation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Gardening became the first of the tasks - with weeding and water carrying taking over most of the first day, before being asked to fiercely prune and dig out a rose that was growing too wildly and not flowering. I innocently and keenly said yes, until I saw the eight foot bush that needed to go. Honestly, the photo does not do this plant justice!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPNovnvBeL-USCx_09QpOf-_PEeGrs-m6WiuTqqCm4irTCu9G2VuxWu3O_lnCMLY8sdVmg_BYl2F0NhcjinKuqT9YLLOJSPOASHRVXX2s707Y5gmPhWUemAQANhwb4ICkffwZmAw8NDCt/s1600/20160816_100040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPNovnvBeL-USCx_09QpOf-_PEeGrs-m6WiuTqqCm4irTCu9G2VuxWu3O_lnCMLY8sdVmg_BYl2F0NhcjinKuqT9YLLOJSPOASHRVXX2s707Y5gmPhWUemAQANhwb4ICkffwZmAw8NDCt/s400/20160816_100040.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Success - defeated rose</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The task of excavating it would see me occupied for most of the afternoon and the morning of the next day. Eventually the rose gave way to the inevitable, and after severing the old roots, I was able to pull it free. This must have given me a taste for digging, as I found myself volunteering to help fix an ill flowing water source to one of the cottages.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgugqazTsse4MFo1SlPCEm4Dumk82mA1Osg9vPZDxwKZZIX5Rb-4p1vjB75mCtya7STF4N9n024ky0vUwRsHPo5ydNVZfb9Vf_c-jC34abi9I5YuWio2tlRjKowVMvYrOHZIS-0vhRbOCBn/s1600/20160816_102713.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgugqazTsse4MFo1SlPCEm4Dumk82mA1Osg9vPZDxwKZZIX5Rb-4p1vjB75mCtya7STF4N9n024ky0vUwRsHPo5ydNVZfb9Vf_c-jC34abi9I5YuWio2tlRjKowVMvYrOHZIS-0vhRbOCBn/s400/20160816_102713.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My next task saw me confronted by my first pick-axe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Enter one pick-axe and one spade. A two-man job, Mohamed and I then would take it in turns to hack away at the hard ground of the driveway to the cottage, and then dig out the channel. Two days of this, and my arms were beginning to feel as battered and bruised as I imagined the road did. My patience was really tested here, as the water pipe proved to be illusive - looking every now and again for the small blue tube that would be the water pipe revealed! However, we would at first find the sewer and then the electric supply!?! (narrowly missed I might add). Sweat flowing, and at times unable to pick up the pick-axe, let alone swing it, at last the water pipe was found, only to realise that it was not the source of the problem! More patience needed...draw deep to find more energy. Finally, the t-point (I was becoming more familiar with this plumbing language) was found close to the inlet point by the road...and fixing this meant that the problem was solved...so cue another learning phase of how to replace a faulty flow correction valve, and replace with a new junction! And then...my task seemed set...fill in the holes again! Cue...yes, more digging.<br />
<br />
I really enjoyed my dinner that night! And my sleep!<br />
<br />
Later on that week, my next challenge would be to face my fear of heights...up ladders. Not good with that, so a very nervous David would spend a day going up and down a few, with the mantra...this will soon be over, this will soon be over.<br />
<br />
Old, trained apple trees had previously been growing up a heated wall. Apparently steam used to be pumped into a two-layer wall, with a cavity for the purpose of passing the steam through and so providing both protection and heat to the apple trees. At some point, the wall had been demolished, and the trees had suffered. But when we saw them, they looked incredibly healthy, and needed a trim.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtL3ZBAOBqVxUKYSCw3Jlr4MEzIut1xSLE4D-A82dkoDAi_y4QuSWb3dPGwFVQiuDPY9AJ5y4erNGkW6Y9rg29f03odFePUyYiS9Cjbjq7pqBu1CGodErnZsQmfFyunDOZuGYTSR7lAKey/s1600/20160818_141651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtL3ZBAOBqVxUKYSCw3Jlr4MEzIut1xSLE4D-A82dkoDAi_y4QuSWb3dPGwFVQiuDPY9AJ5y4erNGkW6Y9rg29f03odFePUyYiS9Cjbjq7pqBu1CGodErnZsQmfFyunDOZuGYTSR7lAKey/s400/20160818_141651.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Head for heights?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi42tJjXIrog0dV87GjEdNH54ulPHDJBg5e0ce3LivfZ7aQU5fWmswFyUR-B5R21WkFCulYxkY1M6VX8dY5v6p12L6xS5e5r7EukQqxXWobLhAQXTwd5j_aUI9hx88xzTou5ULOnc5SvG2/s1600/20160818_141703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi42tJjXIrog0dV87GjEdNH54ulPHDJBg5e0ce3LivfZ7aQU5fWmswFyUR-B5R21WkFCulYxkY1M6VX8dY5v6p12L6xS5e5r7EukQqxXWobLhAQXTwd5j_aUI9hx88xzTou5ULOnc5SvG2/s400/20160818_141703.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who's got hold of the ladder!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After all the weeding, trimming, clearage and pruning, it only remained to deal with all the green waste, as well as some rubbish being accumulated at the house. There is definitely something satisfying, primal and hugely calming, as well as just plain fun in lighting a gigantic fire!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_F21PgMfReEQkSYQe5y7hPhSOuJbzGP3jV60qe2pnyGL_iDDU397u-V1tAYc8fLUQvgArYL00SHDJt3qD9duZ0F_Xe6VxuKfItBhOmhfTJj6jsRlkc-6LDiZVIVPcPuqIZoRHoRqC_D-r/s1600/20160820_144751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_F21PgMfReEQkSYQe5y7hPhSOuJbzGP3jV60qe2pnyGL_iDDU397u-V1tAYc8fLUQvgArYL00SHDJt3qD9duZ0F_Xe6VxuKfItBhOmhfTJj6jsRlkc-6LDiZVIVPcPuqIZoRHoRqC_D-r/s400/20160820_144751.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A relaxing end to the day beside the fire</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At the end of the last day here, I was able to stand back and relax with the two Italian Stallions I'd worked with during my stay. Apparently this sort of bonfire was forbidden in Italy - too much risk of it spreading in the heat, so this was a new experience for them. For me it was pleasant again to feel the warm fire, and watch the hypnotic flicker of the flame, and finally to watch the last of the defeated rose burn away.David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-117470760869383662016-08-08T16:38:00.001+01:002016-08-08T17:02:37.949+01:00Another nice mess you've gotten me into...Time can pass really quickly, and now that I have finished my 3 week voluntary position at the Manjushri Buddhist Meditation Centre, I really have a sense of that.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGvTQxN_7EkIP6FWXpun9XXANVIcrPwj6NyFhzfeINJx4ShOZI7HUEbwuVTHey7zcNZSGg_Bog28kvdhrfSDpv30n0-Omz8hsSgnAWVTWgxucZMhuNoDT5H2gUWQ0OG8y8ikMSat2fzU6/s1600/20160806_121559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGvTQxN_7EkIP6FWXpun9XXANVIcrPwj6NyFhzfeINJx4ShOZI7HUEbwuVTHey7zcNZSGg_Bog28kvdhrfSDpv30n0-Omz8hsSgnAWVTWgxucZMhuNoDT5H2gUWQ0OG8y8ikMSat2fzU6/s400/20160806_121559.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Painted Buddhist figure</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was all consuming. A new role, a new team, and a completely different way of working. Add to that a fabulous summer festival at the Centre, where 4000 people decend to take part in the teachings, and well...a tad overwhelmed at times would put my psych in a nutshell. Not surprising, but there were a few wobbly, "What have I done?" moments.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2USruB5NfSuGPPl-MgnJEWUF3mDxOktOSYvB4wcO9qXKP5yjogBiXrzTD6vbiXQUrPN1lR9Tq3zPQY2nzn8k1zrtoa6fP8Kw9Qod0_FEdEMA5BRs4wKKHW26aBAbK2WBTHi5FGkwcZJ9o/s1600/20160806_121635.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2USruB5NfSuGPPl-MgnJEWUF3mDxOktOSYvB4wcO9qXKP5yjogBiXrzTD6vbiXQUrPN1lR9Tq3zPQY2nzn8k1zrtoa6fP8Kw9Qod0_FEdEMA5BRs4wKKHW26aBAbK2WBTHi5FGkwcZJ9o/s400/20160806_121635.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Art studio at Manjushri Meditation Centre, Ulverston</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span id="goog_1105498035"></span><span id="goog_1105498036"></span><br />
<br />
These 3 weeks would also see me staying in a one-man tent. A one man tent, as long as you were less than five and a half foot I might add! I thought at first how getting a one-man tent would be ideal because of the low weight...not wanting Maude to carry too much. However, I do get a sense that my judgement in such things is sometimes lacking, and having made a sure-fire decision, realise I might not have thought this all the way through.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs_622hri43Jh5nMJ7xJNka-YoxJOl0lPwJFVGUtypwlnQXMdIchaMkh2XLkFsJYRikRja0TrUhmRT064rqpSweGI2wUU2GJ7Zrxtz4fHp5HHdVrY3z17twRti91mQ0UBpiUHfVHs8z8hu/s1600/20160802_225356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs_622hri43Jh5nMJ7xJNka-YoxJOl0lPwJFVGUtypwlnQXMdIchaMkh2XLkFsJYRikRja0TrUhmRT064rqpSweGI2wUU2GJ7Zrxtz4fHp5HHdVrY3z17twRti91mQ0UBpiUHfVHs8z8hu/s400/20160802_225356.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nervous first night in the wee tent!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Although I managed to sleep for 3 weeks in this coffin sized tent, I would not really recommend it. Especially when it rained all day and night!<br />
<br />
I persevered however, and very proud that I did not slip secretly back to the motorhome when things got rough. Was extremely tempted though!<br />
<br />
The centre is based just outside Ulverston, famous for being the birthplace of Stan Laurel, of Laurel and Hardy fame. I just had to spend a session sitting and sketching them both, from the statue near the museum in Stan's honour.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAAKG1hyphenhypheno5IKwzU41gXekPPEco6NAttgC7ZTo4tDeSHW7AwYyfEvtC3wR6XHWftJzgv1FN2bGzmUilGO8ceKNx6mBxr3rDOR10n9XEo3k39hEu-PvY8IGufdN8H9GX7odSpEp2yRmmJ88/s1600/2016-08-08+16.03.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAAKG1hyphenhypheno5IKwzU41gXekPPEco6NAttgC7ZTo4tDeSHW7AwYyfEvtC3wR6XHWftJzgv1FN2bGzmUilGO8ceKNx6mBxr3rDOR10n9XEo3k39hEu-PvY8IGufdN8H9GX7odSpEp2yRmmJ88/s400/2016-08-08+16.03.19.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laurel and Hardy, Ulverston</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHplmzyPoOjM3_n-KR6nBgq-4Un35FFUxdoBMVvfXdXwHWEZQtvNFKoclmqKoxKP9C-X7omcuh7L61N83koGJF3mQojXdmTd7u3e37eeQ36zRY6aeIliwva3LbbzqQG-XxMLK7xHQvfRVt/s1600/20160724_110426%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHplmzyPoOjM3_n-KR6nBgq-4Un35FFUxdoBMVvfXdXwHWEZQtvNFKoclmqKoxKP9C-X7omcuh7L61N83koGJF3mQojXdmTd7u3e37eeQ36zRY6aeIliwva3LbbzqQG-XxMLK7xHQvfRVt/s400/20160724_110426%25281%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keith during his day visit to Ulvertson!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The work at the centre meant I was collaborating to create Buddhist symbols, for the London-based centre, and I would slowly begin to undertand the process involved, as well as the symbolic meaning, and belief around these objects.Collaboration is also something that presents constant challenges for me. Team work takes patience, understanding, and time to develop.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh838qmMFl6kKBAye0epF2Jx4IZdBPFpCo0DICXYqox4QT4Z4iQZB4akJxQ6Kw1bVKI0s2_1hxVL0xc2rY8MPS0ZYPeVSgVdTj8KbWVCQNM-OAv76k3aPV0fHJuJS4lKJjwmq5pAhykTyr_/s1600/20160801_114531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh838qmMFl6kKBAye0epF2Jx4IZdBPFpCo0DICXYqox4QT4Z4iQZB4akJxQ6Kw1bVKI0s2_1hxVL0xc2rY8MPS0ZYPeVSgVdTj8KbWVCQNM-OAv76k3aPV0fHJuJS4lKJjwmq5pAhykTyr_/s400/20160801_114531.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working on the Dharma Wheel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Made of Polyurathane (PU), our main task was to sand them...and sand them...and sand them. The fill in any imperfections and air bubbles, and...sand them again. Sanding would be a theme for me throughout my stay. I now realise I can really sand! The filling was done with car body filler, and I could now also try my hand at car repairs if the need arose.<br />
<br />
Once the sanding was done to our boss's satisfaction (studio manager Simone, and the art studio lead Rabchog) then it would be off for painting...in a yellow colour - primer, before gold paint was applied. Before we get to the gold though, yes you guessed it...more sanding and filling of any smaller imperfections revealed by the priming stage.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjin2FM0rOHQYHZSsEHwKFWJpGrnpOWmjQuE8g5n0DOzPtjf7zI-S_TcuCa4bmb6GPqOubE9KqyqDppVZ2sj5hRLTnLjVdIIkCobBDZG-GvED1I57mKlS7C3e0asHZoKsc2ZjBNRzayPeXz/s1600/20160801_114636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjin2FM0rOHQYHZSsEHwKFWJpGrnpOWmjQuE8g5n0DOzPtjf7zI-S_TcuCa4bmb6GPqOubE9KqyqDppVZ2sj5hRLTnLjVdIIkCobBDZG-GvED1I57mKlS7C3e0asHZoKsc2ZjBNRzayPeXz/s400/20160801_114636.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Female deer, manifestation of emptiness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
During this whole process though I began to see the benefit of both the teachings of Buddhism, and the technique itself, both calming the mind, if agitated, as well as clearing any negative thoughts, by focusing soley on the work and the object.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtv9NpgJ_ms3zgJwsuw6UdHNciKnFia1_xtghsA9iVV9LyRqMZfep6JUqgE-v9JpxT86k19Qsh5zF03B9gWP9825_p7dR6CBA2uJf7ID7ReTOB6KvknFMwNJ2APrmmAHVKW4wMLS8kh-cs/s1600/20160804_162401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtv9NpgJ_ms3zgJwsuw6UdHNciKnFia1_xtghsA9iVV9LyRqMZfep6JUqgE-v9JpxT86k19Qsh5zF03B9gWP9825_p7dR6CBA2uJf7ID7ReTOB6KvknFMwNJ2APrmmAHVKW4wMLS8kh-cs/s400/20160804_162401.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Final coat of gold paint, and ready for the Temple in London</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Buddhist belief tells us that the longer a piece lasts, the more people can see it and so receive blessings from the object, and the more merit the person who worked on the piece receives. So this gave me immediate motivation to do the best job I could.<br />
<br />
After listening to my work colleague Paul explain this, it really helped me to slow down, gain patience and work more deliberately...overcoming my usual "hurry-up, we have a deadline" driver that wanted to get the job done and off as soon as possible (a quantity rather than quality angle).<br />
<br />
I was also able to listen to my colleagues a great deal during the work, as well as reflect and contemplate difficulties I might have, and challenges I might meet, but also those faced by others, and the joyous and positive way they meet those challenges. It enabled me to stop reacting to things, and because my mind was focused and more calm, I was able to reflect and respond instead...or not respond at all, but to work out how I could resolve my approach the next time. I also definitely worked on being grateful for the things I have experienced, and how lucky I am.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9c0sHLwXXMbFgbKnk4wc2MhpiX56uzK6N-j20N1DqxAyD_-vaJWXyMkucJzixCSuABIX-e892JBcVa1XxIvRE2zz5nyjYBvM3-UfB1MtV449rTUM-8QdGpfzu0WFi3ZuXRBha7Pij_L2/s1600/20160806_143129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9c0sHLwXXMbFgbKnk4wc2MhpiX56uzK6N-j20N1DqxAyD_-vaJWXyMkucJzixCSuABIX-e892JBcVa1XxIvRE2zz5nyjYBvM3-UfB1MtV449rTUM-8QdGpfzu0WFi3ZuXRBha7Pij_L2/s400/20160806_143129.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of laughter and discussion with my friend and colleague, Lisette.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The people at the centre and art studio have therefore given me the chance to grow, for which I will always be grateful. From Brazil, France, the Netherlands, Spain, England, Wales, Canada, Sri Lanka and Iceland, to name a few, and they presented many different cultures, ways, languages, language barriers and ideas, both complementary and challenging. My overwhelming impression has been one of a great many people, from all over the globe, and all working and existing in peace and harmony. They have huge amounts of kindness and care.<br />
<br />
There is much to learn there...enough for several life times. Only 3 weeks, and this barely sands down the surface of my mind.<br />
<br />
I ended the time by taking a trip over to Lancaster to reflect and digest, and also to paint some more, whilst being alone (oh and to make sure I didn't miss Star Trek Beyond!). I hope to be able to take the things I have learned and use them in the wider world and with myself. My views and perspectives have been challanged, and in some small way, I hope widened. We live in such a beautiful world, can we work together to enhance it?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHWc2HkYr6-yZTRK-uu9VM-bY8C29PkHsNUmZPVBagbPULkXORK7DCZO53CV9C_Jd7VG15bzoGCfHbbnjiPOO_QUnRQFTTdPZjDOvwcP2L5v19WqymlDgfpCLmjC1mED_-1Io8Oz3kndf/s1600/2016-08-08+16.04.53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHWc2HkYr6-yZTRK-uu9VM-bY8C29PkHsNUmZPVBagbPULkXORK7DCZO53CV9C_Jd7VG15bzoGCfHbbnjiPOO_QUnRQFTTdPZjDOvwcP2L5v19WqymlDgfpCLmjC1mED_-1Io8Oz3kndf/s400/2016-08-08+16.04.53.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ashton Memorial, Lancaster, from Lancaster Priory and Castle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-76548857616623705252016-07-30T13:21:00.001+01:002016-07-30T13:21:27.092+01:00Niggles...these are just nigglesOk, so challenges come, and when they do...well, we overcome them...at some point...but well, some of these I did not even consider, and come from a variety of sources.<br />
<br />
Lots of deep breathing and remembering that firstly, I can overcome these challenges, and secondly, people are very willing to help. Especially when they see someone else with a motorhome.<br />
<br />
Maude, after picking her up in Perth and successfully driving down to Edinburgh, decided to develop a few teething problems. Common I was informed. In fact, 1 in every 4 motorhomes has them. Even brand new ones. Maude, of course, is 13 years old, so not a spring chicken, and so I was expecting some things - a few character traits!<br />
<br />
Firstly, on the drive down, the watercap must not have been securely locked, so the vibration may have meant it slowly turned itself around and flew off...let's hope no one was hit be it on the M9! Got that solved, only to encounter the early stages of having an old battery. Thought at first I was flooding the cab engine on starting, but it was, it turned out just low power. By the time I got to the Lake District, and Dovedale Valley, I awoke in the morning to find she would be as flat as a camping-stove pancake! <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhelj8g4IdjEz7oPDg4elAYaWZIkSNLuGCWozqkMnj4XtoC5C7W1UTZw0rxH9SlQkE2aCKWuoU1oge6R-jYmKDo9LluroJMcGbJFWjMfHmy1pTyh1unnHEjBXJtbFaAPk6NpDxmEEL1Gqss/s1600/20160717_101324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhelj8g4IdjEz7oPDg4elAYaWZIkSNLuGCWozqkMnj4XtoC5C7W1UTZw0rxH9SlQkE2aCKWuoU1oge6R-jYmKDo9LluroJMcGbJFWjMfHmy1pTyh1unnHEjBXJtbFaAPk6NpDxmEEL1Gqss/s400/20160717_101324.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View towards Dove Crag, Hart Crag and Fairfield Peak </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I awoke the morning of my first sleep-over in Maude fully rested and able to look at one of my first views...the cracking Dovedale Valley!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAErMFzYEHBe7iQA7TRmJe8KNCAP6wr9Q1ZOO9JCGXDvVYK5HtsWqo4nv5htSCW5ji1mpK5Pbso1WkbF0jqf9g8R_PnoZwoi331dvI8-1iFfc2sSIjsZ_a3DVwRFfiWLnKpHin8mffI4K/s1600/20160717_082148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAErMFzYEHBe7iQA7TRmJe8KNCAP6wr9Q1ZOO9JCGXDvVYK5HtsWqo4nv5htSCW5ji1mpK5Pbso1WkbF0jqf9g8R_PnoZwoi331dvI8-1iFfc2sSIjsZ_a3DVwRFfiWLnKpHin8mffI4K/s400/20160717_082148.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My bedroom window, on my first morning at Sykeside, Dovedale Valley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLNWi8y1R8cQGHkowQARtrnQKAxu2LzlB3NsNcTMYM95g_nVc6FcJvc80eSlLIcul4w_syRvmqYZrJugm4ULyQCMdToN4_pE5bCPlpcm3NaN3p6zayqc1WfbVAEimCgRgFbtCcih7Dm4K/s1600/20160717_104902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLNWi8y1R8cQGHkowQARtrnQKAxu2LzlB3NsNcTMYM95g_nVc6FcJvc80eSlLIcul4w_syRvmqYZrJugm4ULyQCMdToN4_pE5bCPlpcm3NaN3p6zayqc1WfbVAEimCgRgFbtCcih7Dm4K/s400/20160717_104902.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Breakfast! Omelette on the stove..</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Having begun to explore filling the water tank, switching the gas on, cooking breakfast, and just generally getting used to my new home I did some painting (I will post some examples soon) and was ready for the next step. Turn on the engine...nothing! Cue help from fellow campers. They were not surprised, as this was quite
a common thing apparently. The security chap in Sykeside Camping site, who was
quite bald, laughingly said he was surprised by my apparent calmness, as
he felt he would be tearing his hair out had he any left! However, for some
reason I felt quite calm (having had my panic attack earlier after temporarily losing my keys!) Now was the time to take people's advice and go with the flow of working out Maude's
niggles, and trusting in the help of strangers! Very important.<br />
<br />
Several jump-starts later, during the final treck down and locating a suitable garage, where the battery would be replaced, the niggle was nicely ironed out, and I was ready for my first stint at volunteering at the Manjushri Kadampa Buddhist Meditation Centre, during its Summer Festival. This would become a challenging step for me, as I began to experience collaborative working on art objects in their studio. More on that in later posts, but suffice to say that I was immediately met by the most warm-hearted and friendly people I have ever met, including Charlie and Karen, who would become my friends during my stay here over the next 3 weeks. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSGHMybV5mAskODIhyOrPXVmhmG5DKw_nxgjF4ePBgXacjqYmSH23LdYhxzy0oZQhMs40CdMcA8eUI6Df0dAeqx2zfy78KD37HvcDWfi_qTDqP5pmMN-xJXn9oaXe_5eaULSvW44-4E65/s1600/20160720_211047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSGHMybV5mAskODIhyOrPXVmhmG5DKw_nxgjF4ePBgXacjqYmSH23LdYhxzy0oZQhMs40CdMcA8eUI6Df0dAeqx2zfy78KD37HvcDWfi_qTDqP5pmMN-xJXn9oaXe_5eaULSvW44-4E65/s400/20160720_211047.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karen and Charlie, on one of our evening strolls along the beach</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Karen and Charlie are great people who I am incredibly grateful to have met during this
first significant step on the journey, and who have increased my faith
and trust in people in our world, and this would help me to open myself to more people later on.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNd3Ld7hbETF71UaHrKmtkz6irOdVdx6qLrdlN_24TanQF6wKJCBiugNZLx2Fs_FBtTFj-G08ISK-GMkCHylErfz7QTOVHDVaxFOyX9vKF1YFRcuCCq4nnmv30ogBuPUHYMBZQlZ_tpW49/s1600/20160720_211116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN62bp6L5vMdfj6KUFTuFIfaHE0ajzhgijqLyxz7cKrrXg0tcJJevAUiiVFnpTV1Bw6T_Xpbh3NPfA6u8HphjWHn3uZbjlU3E2i3OGlav9uehRr9Nr21421Xh1DJIWap55rskVJdMeJT3L/s1600/20160720_211116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN62bp6L5vMdfj6KUFTuFIfaHE0ajzhgijqLyxz7cKrrXg0tcJJevAUiiVFnpTV1Bw6T_Xpbh3NPfA6u8HphjWHn3uZbjlU3E2i3OGlav9uehRr9Nr21421Xh1DJIWap55rskVJdMeJT3L/s400/20160720_211116.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset along Morecombe Bay near Bardsea Cumbria</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNd3Ld7hbETF71UaHrKmtkz6irOdVdx6qLrdlN_24TanQF6wKJCBiugNZLx2Fs_FBtTFj-G08ISK-GMkCHylErfz7QTOVHDVaxFOyX9vKF1YFRcuCCq4nnmv30ogBuPUHYMBZQlZ_tpW49/s1600/20160720_211116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-88084973473289496072016-07-12T14:22:00.000+01:002016-07-12T14:22:42.338+01:00What we leave behindThis is written, remembering the events of the last evening in the house I lived in for nearly 11 years. The last couple of months have been filled with planning, organisation, downsizing and endless trips to charity shops and the recycling centres. How much can one person accumulate in just a few years? Too much of course!<br />
<br />
Letting go of stuff is freeing though, and its something I have really begun to enjoy. The emotional attachment to some of the objects are surprisingly resilient though. And the countless tasks of arrangement, re-organisation, notification, switching off, diverting...they keep you distracted to what really is happening.<br />
<br />
A building sense of loss.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vKSMo5oQhGK7CBbXU3owJ9CXq9dHKjvQNBD17MviEsmwHkvEIWxejf-0LqQaqyfrRwM-ARt8-i9ufBzv3Oqd8aOsdUZly78_eGX3itLPMCp0EKP6mvlmc45kWrSn1UfSmifQfsp2WRYC/s1600/front-of-10-tenth-street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vKSMo5oQhGK7CBbXU3owJ9CXq9dHKjvQNBD17MviEsmwHkvEIWxejf-0LqQaqyfrRwM-ARt8-i9ufBzv3Oqd8aOsdUZly78_eGX3itLPMCp0EKP6mvlmc45kWrSn1UfSmifQfsp2WRYC/s320/front-of-10-tenth-street.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home no longer, and always home</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Tonight, with a wee, and rare toast with whisky, I said goodbye to both the house, and to a few treasured objects of quite intense sentimental value. Each with a tight hold over me, and drenched in the affection and love I had for the people who had given them to me.<br />
<br />
I put them in a box, and stared at them for some time. Sat down, took them out again, then replaced them, and then walked away again, with heightened agitation. And then, with little ceremony, and with a slightly distracted, and unconscious and autopilot style of action, I took a trowel out of the shed, and quickly, buried them in the garden.<br />
<br />
The wave of emotion that swept across me then was a bit unexpected. Grief for the loss of people in my life who were attached to these objects, as well as a feeling of loss for others around me, who I was leaving. And no, it wasn't the whisky! Though that action did make me stop. It made me set down all the tasks, the things in my mind, filling up all my spare memory, thoughts and feelings, and I sat in the armchair in the shed and wept. It made me set these things down more permanently, though however impermanently.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-B4NmbRsMP9rb7dqaE-QPd698Xb8N7pxyO67lHajstR95NUpsPGGf5xwWGzhJbVyJalziwMv9JD174tAV-FtAoccFMvLQsE8R91f6KIndGIDlCai_FomkBwMwlSYNFXAi_m4bGK1QUOm/s1600/bedroom-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-B4NmbRsMP9rb7dqaE-QPd698Xb8N7pxyO67lHajstR95NUpsPGGf5xwWGzhJbVyJalziwMv9JD174tAV-FtAoccFMvLQsE8R91f6KIndGIDlCai_FomkBwMwlSYNFXAi_m4bGK1QUOm/s320/bedroom-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A place for just being</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I toasted my late father then, who had died the same year I bought the house. It all became mixed together at once, with the knot pulled tight. I looked at the hedges that my mother and I had cut after visiting Ireland that first year after dad died, that had strangely made us both feel much better after a difficult journey. And to enjoy the cup of tea all the more afterwards. I looked at the kitchen window at the improvements I had orchestrated. I thought about the different parties held there with friends and family, and a particular sweetheart who had spent many a day there with me. I thought about the laughs and the arguments. I looked at the wall that had forever worried me until I got it repaired (I can think about doing a task for so long without actually doing it...I sometimes just stop looking at it).<br />
<br />
Before it got too much of course, the feelings thankfully dissipated. A deep breath, and a sigh, and then, ever practical, a thought that I should really have my dinner. My last in this house. My home. No longer. Now it's on to new things, with new stuff, and new boxes to put things in. Just smaller boxes.<br />
<br />
Small precious treasures and memories in the box from my friend Anita, and special necessities from Mhairi and Megan, the two lovely girls down the road, and both of whom I will miss.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKSqRRNEn8tzdT_SOJnanNpkLsNrOsol_wHOURLIHK-i_oF5NEZ9RBB2QCrYfvFXJXCyg3ZyGQVuXFiWFqFvbUYEmDjDv76N5snndjxdHyoPuwTeQoMN02DgoGkpFg3L5vpAjtfKCCHyEf/s1600/treasure-box.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKSqRRNEn8tzdT_SOJnanNpkLsNrOsol_wHOURLIHK-i_oF5NEZ9RBB2QCrYfvFXJXCyg3ZyGQVuXFiWFqFvbUYEmDjDv76N5snndjxdHyoPuwTeQoMN02DgoGkpFg3L5vpAjtfKCCHyEf/s320/treasure-box.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Capturing memories and the box of necessities</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
With help and kindness from Anita and Graham, I have a place to lay my head whilst I wait for Maude to get herself ready (Maude really does take time to make her appearance - her perogative I suppose, but really)!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/anita-sauvage-a8805229">Anita Sauvage</a>, my art coach, has over the years helped this artist to grow and take risks with her superb coaching skills, and I am always in her debt. We are who we are because of the people we know, and many people have helped me over the years. I truly believe that I would not be where I am now, and making this journey at all if it wasn't for the coaching skills of Anita.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Hn8VbSxCqEpH47yk_1jecEkU8gpXMqC9tBnue60nk25PM16_UpHVfB6r8vzZ7MsmKIJBs3q1CaJfAms6x-f4WagrszvCh9J2b1qXHkHg_91N22ROLD4BBgZv14x0Kvl9E2B9XRYmLw1U/s1600/david-and-anita.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Hn8VbSxCqEpH47yk_1jecEkU8gpXMqC9tBnue60nk25PM16_UpHVfB6r8vzZ7MsmKIJBs3q1CaJfAms6x-f4WagrszvCh9J2b1qXHkHg_91N22ROLD4BBgZv14x0Kvl9E2B9XRYmLw1U/s320/david-and-anita.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend and coach, Anita Sauvage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
In the journey of discovering new horizons, meeting new people, and expanding my opportunities, I also sense that home is not just a physical place, but is always with us, no matter where we go. That continued returning home.<br />
<br />David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-14739335896877284802016-06-18T18:04:00.000+01:002016-06-19T22:01:46.824+01:00Meeting MaudeWell, the house sold last Tuesday. It took a little longer than I had first thought, but not that long that all my patience ran out - needed to keep focussed and head towards the assumed leaving date and so that meant where to find my mobile home...nomadic life beckons.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_DYMFgYJc9UVAqymJBKRWM5aAvDFsc500hf7gkZOy5AFgkEXuKFq5k-p0jK6_poJj7_YCuUUJKYZN_Cqs_h2Na5K9_-0h1NJ0j3NKQ5T1DSwpGciS61047lmNMwsraj1MxCLOiuwWsVQb/s1600/maude-cydney-mclouis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_DYMFgYJc9UVAqymJBKRWM5aAvDFsc500hf7gkZOy5AFgkEXuKFq5k-p0jK6_poJj7_YCuUUJKYZN_Cqs_h2Na5K9_-0h1NJ0j3NKQ5T1DSwpGciS61047lmNMwsraj1MxCLOiuwWsVQb/s320/maude-cydney-mclouis.jpg" width="192" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maude Cyndey McLouis in her finery</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So I went looking both online and in the real world and saw quite a few. 2 berths, 4 berths and 6 berths, older, newer, and ended up in Perth, the apparent mecca when it comes to motorhomes in Scotland. After a very timely visit from my friend Steven (who has had experience of caravans and motorhomes) who wisely warned me of the rusting nature of Ford Transits and Mercedes, I felt more fore-armed!<br />
<br />
Private sales for something this big seemed too big a risk (not big enough for a solicitor, but big enough to warrant a dealer). They were very busy, and motorhomes were moving quick, which was a good sign. My friend Tammy had agreed to chum me, and I hoped I had not asked her to come along on a fool's errand if the ones I had been looking for were already gone. <br />
<br />
I was told that although they may still appear as live on the website, if they had been sold, they are not taken down until people drive them away. So I could have been looking at the past chances. Lesson learned, phone through and don't rely on email!<br />
<br />
I took a breath at that point and reminded myself I had a back-up plan of another dealer in the area if I had needed it.<br />
<br />
However, we saw a couple of vehicles, one that seemed very claustrophobic - an autosleeper, which I am now beginning to smugly know - given my 2 days exhaustive research on the matter making me 'officially in the know', is more of a day camper. The other was better, but only a 2 berth so would have to put the bed out and back each time and again not alot of space to work if I wanted to.<br />
<br />
Then, after asking one of the very helpful staff at ScotMotorhomes, we were guided to the very back of the lot. Tucked away and hidden a bit from sight, there was the Fiat Ducato that I had seen online during my searching, and the one that I had wanted to find. Larger inside than the feel of some others I had seen, I got that immediate positive feeling. All the seating and the upholstery looked taken care of. Only 52,000 on the clock.She seemed to have been waiting for me. Nice outer condition, fridge freezer, hob and grill, heating (which can come off the engine to heat up the storage when driving, have to remember to switch it on before driving...that'll probably catch me out:-) and best of all, a bed above the cabin that was very roomy - with a window and view! Plus spare double in the main area for guests! Tammy had to reign me back in a bit before I gave all my money away and helped me negotiate the price down. Invaluable, as I am a man still practicing the art of haggling. Thanks Tammy!<br />
<br />
However, I hope you agree that Maude Cydney McLouis is fabulous, and I hope to aim for a nice 1950's design look for her as I go on...enamelled cups and plates...the lot. Soon, I shall go and pick her up. Until then, she'll be safe in her bay, and I shall begin thinking of which throws I shall take for the seats!David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-92055884427697898372016-05-25T00:57:00.001+01:002016-05-29T22:05:04.533+01:00Ready to fly?!Ok folks, this month, May in 2016, marks a new direction and a few very large leaps into the unknown.<br />
<br />
It is all about leaps of faith sometimes, leaping when you are not too sure about the direction that you are going. Facing the fear that comes with that means facing some fierce demons. And then letting them talk to you instead of running away in terror...they often have some very useful things for you to listen to, if you can let them up out of the cellar that you locked them in years ago!<br />
<br />
So like this sparrow, am I ready to fly to pastures new?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcH8-1Bp7-WJB3eJ1pR0xXnPuYz2BmIBLL21EtzDWlvLbiy8yjDLlnjwuWPn8GYOOOWVAQf8ckxgpQ4JB_1s1_zZsv-P2XR0eRsRT1pD4Tgc-lucxUyuqpl9XqSq6KZJmbri5ytXTvjFVi/s1600/sparrow-two.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcH8-1Bp7-WJB3eJ1pR0xXnPuYz2BmIBLL21EtzDWlvLbiy8yjDLlnjwuWPn8GYOOOWVAQf8ckxgpQ4JB_1s1_zZsv-P2XR0eRsRT1pD4Tgc-lucxUyuqpl9XqSq6KZJmbri5ytXTvjFVi/s320/sparrow-two.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption"><span style="color: white;">Am I ready to jump?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At the age of 46, I thought it was high time I started on the path to a new venture. I wanted a big change, and well, I did that. I ended my job with an organisation I had worked for steadily and successfully for 15 years as I crafted out a career of graphic design development. And then, to help finance this big new move, I have sold my house (hopefully today I will find out if the process has been agreed and signed).<br />
<br />
I shall then go travelling, experiencing new things and generally make it up as I go along for a bit. Some things I have in mind to do, and have talked about, but, hey, only time will tell which opportunities I pick up.<br />
<br />
However, there are some words that are right in the front of my consciousness at the moment. The words of Martin Luther King Jr.:<br />
<br />
"Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, Just take the first step."<br />
<br />
I shall be posting here to keep a journal for myself and keep others updated too, if you are interested in following my exploits, over the coming months. Come join me on occasion. This may be a place to celebrate, commiserate but hopefully experience some of what lies for me down the road...David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2624544400726294999.post-1358797591215881262016-04-30T23:50:00.001+01:002021-02-09T10:20:54.368+00:00The Awakening<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6f9Fu1NVcZ7XTUuL2Z5bc7kGRrJEMIFs25eE8QDlypI91Qsx10tS8w3VKtW9EKY731vZDsjBY0kMJIaVlaOSo8k-t3bK6gfrtNhtPn50_OQtBzsEHPd12LBGSIX04ENvt8vkCy04y-i4/s1600/demon-cat-and-angels+copy.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6f9Fu1NVcZ7XTUuL2Z5bc7kGRrJEMIFs25eE8QDlypI91Qsx10tS8w3VKtW9EKY731vZDsjBY0kMJIaVlaOSo8k-t3bK6gfrtNhtPn50_OQtBzsEHPd12LBGSIX04ENvt8vkCy04y-i4/s320/demon-cat-and-angels+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Demon Lilith begins to wake<span style="color: blue;"></span></span><u><br /></u></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">
There comes a point when a road has no more twists, turns or forks. You meet a still place. A glade, with a heavy quietness that unnerves you.</div>
<br />
As the years go by, the road can feel gradually steeper. You barely notice. The mountain is all there is, all there was. To sit, in the sun, or gently stroll is a memory. A myth. That sense of slight hovering unease, deep discontent, rising fatigue, of deep, under-the-skin irritation, grows. So deep that to scratch is out of the question. It grows into a not inconsiderable weight, where happiness becomes an illusive forgotten song.<br />
<br />
Finally, having felt that I am in this very place, I sit down and since I can't really ignore it any more, I ponder the inevitable decision.<br />
Look towards the horizon and what do I see.<br />
<br />
Nothing.<br />
<br />
It had been a while since I had really thought about my future and whenever I did, I didn't think about it for long. I would jump away from it, and back into my routine, my comfy hole. Surrounded by my creature comforts, I had not realised that in the corner of the room, one of my creatures had grown quite large.<br />
<br />
A dark shadowy figure, caught by the flickering orange warm flames of the crackling fire, was catching the light with velvet dampening highlights and I had not looked over at that corner for a while. This time, the beady eye watching me back could not be ignored so easily.<br />
<br />
Lilith needed attention. She was not going to take no for an answer. Her usual contendedness had lately grown with her size. She was shedding her skin, no longer suitable for the armoured scales and ridges, and claws that she would need.<br />
<br />
"Give it up" came her gravelly, soft and slightly chilling suggestion.<br />
<br />
Caught with the image of doing just that, I saw only the precipice to which I was clinging, slipping slowly towards the sheer drop. Only gossamer thread wrapped me around Lilith and the secure roots of my predictable, safe world that I had built. If I let go, what would happen? My fear told me quite clearly. Drop, into that groundless expanse.<br />
<br />
"I can't" I said. "I'll fall."<br />
<br />
"Of course you will" Lilith grinned, with a glint. "That's why I'm here."<br />
<br />
And Lilith slowly arose, leathery wings sprouting and unfurling, tearing apart the threads of my life, and with a breath of fire burned my hands upon the roots, until I let go in anguish. And down, down, I fell.<br />
<br />
Swooping, Lilith caught me on her back, and into the sunrise, flew.David Dalzellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09435985289041154837noreply@blogger.com0