Elders and Elderflowers

It'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.

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.

New work development for market

Proud  Watchful Scottish Ram

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.

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.

"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.

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.

I rely so very heavily on these people. My mother, my aunts, my uncles, my sisters, brothers and their partners, my cousins.

Enjoying the sun with Mum in Cromer...searching for the goats!

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 Art & Craft Collective'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.

Mary-Alice and me in the garden!

My nieces and nephews, although younger than me, are often times able to give young seeds of elderflower wisdom too.

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.

Sometimes the letting go of a goal helps to let us see where we get to whilst persuing it.

Alot of my blog may appear very positive and upbeat and very adventurous, and yes it is, some of the time.

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.

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.

Mother-load

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.

Journey along the canal in Muston, Leicestershire

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.

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.

Cherry tree view

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...

In the undergrowth!

When that Maori God of Earthquakes shakes your world...

Ready to explore

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.

Time for a larger step.

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!

Getting to the plane was an adventure in itself!

 
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.


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.

Ruaumoko - God of Earthquakes

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. 

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.

The tram in Christchurch gives tourists a journey through the transitioning city

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.

The cows in the sunny fields

Gentle river walks

The landscape is hugely dramatic. A relatively young country, its mountains are still growing and shaping and they literally cut into the sky.

The grey waters rushing down from Fox's Glacier

Highrise roads winding through Arthur's Pass

Falling glacial waters

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.

Sitting comfortably at Otira Stagecoach Hotel

Grasshopper

More film set than street in Murchison

Old faithful

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.

Golden Bay

Capturing the day creatively in my journal

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.

Kea birds are full of michief!

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...

Cody and friends at the beach

Zorro, Zanthia and Zina with Shane and Damien in Picton

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.

Auckland harbour perspectives

The Ferry Building, Auckland

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.

Precarious at the seaside in Wellington, North Island

Grove Station in Nelson on South Island

And the towns and cities on South Island again have their own unique characters, with Nelson even presenting a train station from yesteryear.

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.

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.

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!

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.

Making friends whilst volunteering!

Housekeeping of characterful accomodation like the Ark

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.

The road goes ever on

Not all my experiences in New Zealand were fun however.

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.

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.

A perfect day

Street painting

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!

Gollum?

Recreation of a woman's journey

What would you do if someone asked you to produce a piece of artwork based on their mother, who had recently died? Yes? No? Um...

The journal of a woman's life

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.

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 Anita Sauvage once, Colette Sauvage, and it was towards the end of her journey.

This was to be a very sensitive piece of artwork. To dissapoint was not an option, but so possible it at first defeated me.

It would also see its production taking just over a year.

The idea for the piece would take most of that year to even come to me, let alone to work on.

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.

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.

Three objects to go by. Three photographs. Three stages.

In youth

A young woman

A mother

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.

Becoming familiar with a woman not known

Emerging patterns

Developing a weave

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.

Letting go of detail

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.

For me the few words would have to do...journey, garden, seamstress, husband...bird.

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.

The journey from Algeria would help me connect her final garden to its origin in maps.

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.

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!

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.

Colette - in her garden

Caught by the Mimihs

Arrived in Wales for my next voluntary visit in (and bring on the start of pronounciation challenges) Machynleth, the ancient capital of Wales.

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!

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.

"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.

"Yes" I said.

"Well technically it's not a breakdown".

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.

My beautiful bedroom for the next few nights

My morning view

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.

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.

Sunset in Wales

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.

Going all Andy Goldsworthy with my wood chopping arrangement

Demanding, but mindful task of extracting an old dry stone wall

New paving

Preparing the land

I was joined in the second week by Noah and Lucy and Lucy was to introduce me to Mihmihs. Aboriginal Australian mythical creatures.

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.

Imagining the Mimihs

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.

Walking (or hobbling) wounded

 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 Breathing Space, Hickling, Norfolk.

Capturing Stellar

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.

Susan Cooper's The Dark is Rising sequence, 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 Bird's Rock , 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.

Still waters on Tal-y-lyn at the foot of Cadair Idris

Bird Rock, Dysynni Valley

Travelling back over the border into Cheshire, would then see me visiting the other mythically based children's book, the Weirdstone of Brisingamen 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.

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.

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, Boneland, 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.

I loved this mythically rich stage of my journey, wizards, kings, quests, mimihs and magic abounds!