haddon hall chapel

I could happily visit Haddon Hall every week! 

Within the grounds of Haddon Hall I always head to the St Nicholas Chapel first, tracing a 'map' of my first visit many years ago. I'm fascinated by the foliage and flower dry fresco paintings and love to gaze up, noticing how each large motif skilfully fits into the others surrounding it to create a continuous pattern that climbs the walls. I marvel at the skill involved in painting consistently to this scale over a large surface. Wondering at the daunting first brushstroke, the mixing of pigments, at the scaffold required to work at hight, imagining arm ache and the physicality of this labour. How marvellous to become absorbed in marks made in the 1400's. How I'd love to peek into the process, see the start of a days work, observe the everyday of that era.

And then, within feet, I travel to 1894. The death of a 9 year old child, the eldest son. Eyes drawn to the tender depiction of feet and hands and incredible carved drapery.

'For ever wilt thou grieve and he be fair.'

Detail of chapel fresco

Three skeletons of a Medieval morality tale

dinosaur pals

These delightful post-it note drawings sat by the side of the path between railway and houses in Belper today. Wisely, they'd chosen a shady spot on this scorching day. Crouching to photograph them I wondered at the event of their creation - a guessing game? something to delight a child? to while away a bus journey, illustrate a conversation? Literally 'throw away' drawings on post-it notes, momentary, speedy while also showing a confidence with line and proportion. I'm a fan of the artist. 

The addition of a googly-eye gives an air of intent to the stegosaurus - it's going places. The brachiosaurus has appears wistful, looking back at where it's been. 

They make a balanced team.

 

a very late - hello 2021!

I'm shocked to realise that it's over 2 months since I posted here. Time seems to drag and also flash by simultaneously, which is very disorientating. I also wonder if I have much to say, or the energy to work it out, write it out.

Welcome 2021, lets see how this year flows. I have no expectations, but hope for health. 

Here is a photograph taken last month, the day after my 50th birthday. It's cool being half a century old, I'm fortunate to have got here and welcome the silver hairs and crone status.   

heart's ease tonic

Last week I made a 'heart's ease tonic' to share with friends. I've had great feedback so thought I'd share the recipe here.

This herbal helper won’t make sadness or grief disappear, but it may help support you with these feelings. Drink a shot glass measure when required.

3 cups water

Half cup elderberries (I’ve used frozen blackberries as too late in the season for elder)

Half cup hawthorn berries

Half cup rosehips

1 cinnamon stick

Orange peel - 1 quarter

Small bottle (250g) pure maple syrup

1.5oz brandy

❤️ Remove stalks and rinse hips and haws, discard any damaged berries

❤️ Add water, berries, cinnamon and peel to a pan and bring to boil

❤️ Reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes

❤️ Remove from heat and use a wooden spoon to mash berries

❤️ Strain through muslin and squeeze (allow mixture to cool a little first)

❤️ Pour liquid back into pan, add maple syrup and brandy. Heat gently to combine ingredients

❤️ Pour into sterilised glass jar or bottle

❤️ Label, refrigerate, use within 1 month, recipe makes around 1.5lt

Hawthorn, rosehip, blackberry, orange peel and cinnamon 

Straining the liquid

Cooling pulp

The only bottles I could buy locally were double the size I needed...

skate

A small group of young people have taken over and engineered a derelict area next to the studio to suit their skateboarding practice.

I've seen them in the space from a distance, and kept meaning to explore when they weren't around... I got my chance last week, and relished walking around the structures they've created. Their building materials are basic, weathered, scattered and they have utilised rubble piles and concrete surface to great effect. The experience was no different to viewing sculpture in a carefully curated space and bought to mind artist friends who would have enjoyed this solo preview. 

This intervention is (of course) done without permission. Even so, I carried a sense of trespass in their space, and felt as if I was breaking a rule! 

finds - watercolour

I painted my July finds in the groups I'd discovered them, three different woodland pathway sites on a local walk.

shards

Visited New Mills two weeks ago and found these treasures by the river near Torr Vale Mill. I think the ceramic shards were brought into the site with building debris to shore up the river bank, they don't make sense in the location.

It reminded me of an allotment I had a decade ago near the Greyhound Stadium in Walthamstow - the earth was full of ceramic and glass. Someone told me the soil had been transported out of bomb damaged central London after the war.

Recently, I read the word 'sherd' for the first time and though it a typo. Sheard comes from 'potsherd', defined as a broken piece of ceramic material, especially one found found on an archaeological site. In general, sherd only refers to pieces or fragments of pottery whereas shard may refer to broken bits of glass, metal, rock, and ceramics. 

finds

Last month I went off for a walk after a succession of rainy days. Top soil had been swept from woodland pathways revealing rich pickings of the domestic pottery shards that delight me. I've found these many times before on a particular path near Scarthin Wood, but on this walk they shone from pathways I'd never gathered from before. I kept them in the collections I'd found them, placing the muddy finds in different sections of my backpack.

I'm drawn to these worthless shards, were they a preferred bowl, favourite cup of a father or son, were they handed down from a mother to a daughter, precious, part of a wedding gift? Was anyone heartbroken when they shattered? Can I sense an echo from who held them? Who raised cup to lips, clattered a spoon scrapping the last morsels of porridge from them? The past in the present, a ceramic trail, reminding me of Hansel and Gretel's attempt at retracing steps, staying safe in the wood.

I'll paint these in their families, recording their cracks, breaks, pattern and decoration in watercolour and pencil. Devoting my full attention while I fix their likeness to paper. 

eleanor

In May 2019 a dear friend died of ovarian cancer. As the first anniversary approached I saw a call on Facebook to make an offering or gesture by water at 11am on the date of her death. 

I got to the river in good time and gathered a handful of wild garlic, cow parsley and jack by the hedge, twisting and weaving the stems into a circle. Hunkered down in my chosen spot I observed sunlight reflected from the waters surface flickering upon the pale undersides of overhanging leaves and dippers dart from bank to bank, weaving invisible threads of flight. At 11am I placed my offering into the river and watching it float away, felt connected to others making their gestures in still and following waters and seas. A small thing but one that bought Eleanore and her loved ones into my thoughts these past few weeks.         

daily walk for exercise

Most days I get out for my allotted 'walk for exercise' during the Covid-19 lockdown. I feel very fortunate to live in Derbyshire, with its footpaths, fields, woods and hills on the doorstep. Before setting out I consider where the widest paths are with the best chance of remaining 2 meters away from other walkers. 

It's good to get out and breathe fresh air, most people nod, smile or say hello. We need to be responsive and aware of each others bodies, how to negotiate a crossing space, a narrowing of the path. I've become focused on edges as I walk upon fresh growth at the paths fuzzy boundary.

Watching spring bloom I spend much of my walk with eyes pointed at the ground. Spotting plants that sprout from pavement and wall, plants stunted and flattened amongst the grass in the park or growing verdant along pathways. Millefleur is brought to mind as it's still possible to study the variety of young plants, within weeks the hedgerow will be high and plants entwined. 

I'm always delighted by plants that grow in unpromising locations, from pavement crack and stone wall, as well as in the hedgerows - little warriors working with what's available and thriving. This week I photographed, then painted in watercolour Dandelion, Cleavers, Wild garlic, Nettle and Plantain - edible wild plants with medicinal qualities. 

 Dandelion

 Cleavers

 Cleavers

 Wild garlic

 Nettle

Nettle

 Plantain

Dandelion

nettle & potato soup

A couple of weeks ago I made the Friday Soup at Haarlem Artspace where I have a studio. We take turns providing a nourishing lunch for one another in our communal kitchen. I've long held the ambition to cook with the seasons, or at least understand what food the hedgerow can provide throughout the year. So in early March, with the nettles beginning to show their faces I made this soup.

Today, I gathered nettles in an altogether different world. I walked past a couple wearing face masks and felt wary, a heightened need for distance and also to smile, to reassure. It felt good to stride out above the town and quietly sing to the nettles, wild garlic and cleavers as I picked them. The wind cold, the sun warm, an abundance of young plants doing their thing, COVID-19 forgotten for a moment.

Nettle and Potato Soup

Two handfuls of nettle tops, rinsed

One large onion, chopped

Two medium potatoes, peeled and diced

One garlic clove, crushed. I also added wild garlic.

1.5 pints veg stock

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

Fry onion and garlic in olive oil until soft. Add nettles, potato and stock, simmer until potatoes are cooked, blend and season.

Cleaver Tea

Pick a generous handful of cleavers, rinse, place in a teapot, pour over boiling water and allow to infuse for five minutes. A friend who drank this said it reminded her of childhood.

Cleavers

Wild garlic

Nettle tops

  Nettles, cleavers & wild garlic

first walk of the year

The new year is long gone and I'm only just posting this image from my first walk of 2020. 

Walking with my sister (the day after her birthday in early January) we were rewarded with this view towards Chatsworth. A sheet of light beams lit the winter fields and revealed the kind of green that makes a heart soar. 

solstice walk

This Saturday I took myself off on a solo solstice walk. The town was busy with Christmas shoppers and I was glad to leave the tinsel bustle and walk into the hills surrounding Matlock. There was much to wonder at on the trails, complex fungi, new shoots, crystal flowing water, furry moss, bright berry jewels as I followed rich deep paths. At this darkest point of the year I was amazed by the grounded stirring within these woods, a surety and faith contained within all life forms. The cycle never still, turning of the earth, rolling of the seasons... 

Our ancestors would have measured their lives by these cycles and being aware of this connects in a small way to the people who came before. It also brings close an un-knowing, my reading of the woods dulled in comparison to past inhabitants of this place. In 2020 I hope to learn about and deepen my connection with this landscape and it's flora. Can I belong here? Can I find surety and faith?