the first cut is the deepest

As Derbyshire seeps into my skin, my lungs, it is inevitably seeping into my art. I've not worked with lino since I was a teenager in the 80's (another land...) and have surprised myself with the connection and joy I feel for the process of carving and printing. Below are my first efforts exploring lino and the boundaries that delineate this particular landscape: dry stone wall and hawthorn hedgerow.

These boundaries represent safety and respect within the work I'm developing... It's all about the boundaries.  

 Dry stone wall near Cromford, Derbyshire

Hedgerow near Bakewell, Derbyshire

goodbye 2018

Tomorrow, on new years day I'll sit for a while and ponder these questions (from Louise Hay) as 2019 blinks into wakefulness. As we turn our faces towards 2019 its a wonderful time to reflect upon what could come next and what is important. 

Blessings ♥️

What shall I now release from my life?

What or who no longer works for me?

What am I holding on to that holds me back?

What thoughts or beliefs belong to the old me?

How am I being unloving to myself?

Am I ready to let go?

What do I believe that really works for me?

What is going on in my life that is terrific and wonderful?

Where am I being very loving to myself?

Where am I most content?

What do I want to bring to my life?

What do I want to create?

How do I want the next year to be?

How do I want to look?

What image do I want to project?

How healthy do I want to be?

How prosperous do I want to feel?

How much love am I willing to experience?

What kind of world do I want to live in?

Where do I want my spirituality to go?

Affirm: I know that where I am is the totality of possibilities... not just a few possibilities, but the totality of all creation.

I am not limited by statistics, medical opinions, time, or authorities.

I am one with the infinite wisdom and capabilities of the Universe itself.

All good is available to me, right here and right now.

All I have to do is to use the power of my thoughts to create that which I desire. I know that. Now let me live it!

memorial of hedge and stone

One of the many joys of living in Derbyshire is the constant companionship of the dry stone walls and hedgerow boundaries that hug the landscape. Recently, during the centenary events to mark the end of WW1 I couldn't help but reflect upon the boys and men who never returned to this land, the boys and men who pieced the puzzle of dry stone walls together and skilfully laid the hedgerows. Their signature covers the land, an echo of their presence and physical labour and deep understanding of the natural world.

We remember you. 

heaven is an overground train

Recently, I had the pleasure of traveling into Liverpool Street on an overground train. Gliding through the changing land and cityscapes of Walthamstow, Clapton, Hackney Downs and Bethnal Green the train provided a delightful rolling filmic experience from the comfort of my seat.

Traveling to the cities interior, sunlight flickered, flashed and faded upon the windowpane. Remembrances and emotions were sparked, juxtaposing my life experience so far - faces, places and events popping up from an internal hard drive. My home turf elicited soothing feelings of familiarity and belonging, viewpoints swept by, street lines opened up and slid away allowing sneaky peeks into back gardens, of living room sofas and unmade beds. There was a feeling of mental breathlessness as I attempted to piece the city together, to understand what was before me as it evaporated. The ungraspable, the fleeting, the vanished-ness of this attempt is pleasurable.     

The city interior loomed large. Graffiti tags multiply on Victorian railway architecture as London youth rub up against the cities ghosts. Histories overlap, reaching into the past and towards the future as the city breathes. Careful listening reveals the beating heart of London within the trains rhythm. Transported and blinking in the sun's rays a thought shimmered in my awareness, this is my heaven. My heaven is to travel by overground train from East London into the City. Outward and return. Forever.

Arriving into Liverpool Street Station rows of round glowing lamps guided us into the platform. Within the stations darkness a wonderful sensation of being part of the trains fabric revealed itself, as if I could sink into the seat unseen, receptive and connected to the city and her inhabitants. 

Reluctantly, I allowed the spell to be broken and alighted onto the platform.

two friends

Last week after walking to Alison Uttley's birthplace near Cromford, my sister and I walked along the canal towards the old mill buildings and turning left, joined the road towards Cromford's market place. The first right before the market place takes you to Scarthin Books of Cromford, we plodded up the gentle hill and entered the familiar shop. 

It is a joy to browse this shop full of new and pre-loved books. In the Art Room we discovered a pile of postcards and photographs and leafing through I found the first image, then deeper in the pile the second photograph turned up. At first I thought it was of the same woman but my sister noted the faces were different, and I searched again for the first image and placed them together. 

Two friends, posed outside between a window and doorway. You take my photo and I'll take yours. What was happening on this day? What plans did they have, what did they speak of? I'm intrigued by the informal poses and what appears to be finger knitting in the first image. Looking at the stone around the doorway it looks local, but who knows. There is nothing written on the back of either photograph, so my imagination can create their story. 

I placed them together and returned them to the pile, feeling strongly that I didn't want them separated. When we left the shop my sister handed me the photographs, having bought them secretly for the princely sum of £1. How thoughtful and kind.

margaret stirland

On the weekend my sister and I moved to Derbyshire we went for homity pie at Scarthin Books of Cromford. It is a special treat to dine on thoughtful vegan food while surrounded by books! After our lunch we wondered around the book filled rooms and I discovered Feathered Playmates at Home on display in a windowsill and couldn't resist picking it up. As you can see from the photograph this book was awarded to Margaret Stirland in 1936 by the City Of Nottingham Education Committee as 4th prize for 3 hyacinths grown in a pot. 

I loved the title of the book, that it was for 4th place, that Margaret had grown hyacinths and that it appeared to have been kept for her lifetime. At 82 years old the book is in good condition, the stories interesting and illustration charming. I'll treasure this Margaret!

birthday

It was mum's birthday on the 13th October, she would have been 83. I took a trip to London with a packet of Snakes-head fritillary bulbs from my sister and bought a cyclamen on East Finchley high road to plant on her grave. Our previous plantings seem happy enough, the grave was bright with Bellis daisies and primrose.  

It was a beautiful morning and I could have spent the day in the cemetery. Its a fascinating place. Happy birthday Mum.