Cute little square board I painted last week. I’m enjoying playing with colour and style, and I’m certainly enjoying exploring plants growing towards light.
You may notice I’ve signed this one with my name. This will be the way going forward, Birdy & Bright officially closed last Sunday, so if you own any of that then you own a piece of history!
It’s the end of an era but the start of a better one, me being brave enough to call myself an artist, and that’s something I’ve been working towards for a very, long time.
Painted this one in the garden one evening a little while ago.
The boy was asleep, the fella, was out, and I got the opportunity to snatch some rare quiet time in the peace of the evening garden.
I think everyone should spend time in nature. Sitting as a part of the world, breathing with the wind, swaying with plants. Smelling the light fragrance and listening to the hum of bees bumbling around the lavender plant. Everything comes to life.
Even in the depths of low When lights are dim, When no one’s home, When all is dark When all is still There could be nothing, nothing at all until click a flame a match a start a small light flickers in the dark I sit & write Let words be my guide to lead me through this quiet night.
When all is still I can hear my thoughts I can reflect take stock I can change my course This time is precious So I must not waste Moments spent in stillness and not in haste.
The names a work in progress. I loved painting this. Acrylics and metallic scrics on A4 board.
A beautiful, brightly colored sunset, capturing the magic of colour’s, held together by green vines sprawling across the board. Nature’s stained glass window.
The metallics really bring this to life. It’s stunning in the light.
This is not my first attempt at a self portrait. And it will likely not be the last, but I like this one and I’m willing to share it.
Creation is inherent. We are all creators. I painted this shortly after I had my little one. My mother had passed just one month before he was born. I remember that I was amazed with how empty I felt, and how full of the power of creation.
The empty face reflects the emptiness I felt inside, the vine still growing through me, manifesting into reality, a constant power that we all possess. It also reflects the continuing chain from mum, to me, to my child. The apple, an ancient symbol of life, and wisdom. The apple is something that had continued to permeate my world, and has become essential to nourish my mind and soul when I need help. Apples are very special things, and not to be taken for granted.
Acrylic paint on A4 300gsm paper.
This is still available. Reach out if you want to talk.
Slowly come, unfurling leaves woken up by warming feet. The sunshine strengthens days linger on life returns now winter has gone.
When everything is moving and nothing stays the same we can only keep our footing on what comes round again. We reach forward into future skyward promises of shoots while we lament on days gone past a history inherited through our roots.
A hand-printed linocut block print inspired by the story of Brigid’s Walk and Imbolc, a celebration attached to the wheel of the year where we acknowledge and give thanks for the slow but certain return of spring.
This is an original handmade print, carved by hand and printed in ink on 300gsm handmade paper, with green ink. 1 run of 20 prints.
This piece celebrates movement, Spring, imbolc, and the simple joy of the first shoots of the year pushing through cold ground. The is a great power in having faith in the seasons, and the joy and reassurance of springs return.
The story behind ‘Step into Spring’ – Brigid and Imbolc
It’s been a longer and more progressive process than my previous print, which bodes well for developing my skill.
I sketched the image onto a soft cut block. The cutting stage was carried out in short, intermittent bursts whenever I found a minute inbetween the busy hours of being a working mum.
I was inspired by the story of Brigid, and the first signs of spring, which are celebrated at Imbolc, a special time and celtic celebration from the wheel of the year that occurs around the 31st-1st February. The festival takes its name from the old Celtic word ‘imbolg’ which means in the belly and reflects the growing life in earth. It was a time where ewes came into milk, and the first sign of spring start to show after a long cold winter. This was an important time when people had to prepare to survive a winter and keep faith the spring would return.
The story is deeply rooted in Celtic mythology and centres around Brigid.
“Brigid is one of the most revered goddesses in Celtic mythology, embodying a triad of powerful aspects: fertility, healing, and inspiration. As a goddess of fertility, she represents the earth’s ability to nurture and sustain life, making her a central figure in the Imbolc celebrations” – Celtic Mythology Worldwide
There are of course variations on the story, but for the most part, it begins with the Cailleach, otherwise known as the winter crone. Who walks the land, making snow and ice every time her staff hits the ground. She captured Brigid (as know in Ireland, Bridge in Scotland and kept her prisoner. Brigid was able to escape in spring and as she returns to the land she melts the snow and ice where she steps and flowers bloom.
On the night of the 31st Jan moving into the 1st Feb, Brigid is said to walk and bring the return to spring. And the for those paying attention, we start to see the signs, small shoots pushing through, green budding on plants. Spring is not yet here, but we see the signs of it’s return.
It’s such a poignant reminder of the cycles of nature that we often miss in these busy modern times. Remember them and spending time with them reconnects us with the earth and living with these cycles has proved really beneficial for my mind and mental health.
Fresh, bright blue of sea and sky. Under currents swirl winds whip and curl up white foamy crests that kiss the salty air carrying the cries of swooping swifts that tell us summer’s nearly here.
Living in Portsmouth, the return of the swifts is a magical time of year. They herald the return of warm weather, and the return of summer.
They live in Africa through the winter, and return here on the warm air to nest and feast on the many insects that thrive in the heat.
I a full of an eager anticipation late April/early May. I can’t help by watch the skies hoping to catch them swooping like darts and screaming. They are wonderful things.
The process of learning block printing has been a fun one. This was the first block print that I made and was happy to offer. I made a run of 20. I have a couple left. A4 card with blue ink.
The train wheels click, the carriage rocks in a lulling rhythm, soothing the stress of delays, of running later, of being behind, not on time, behind on bills, on money, in debt. Slowly sinking into my chair I close my eyes and drift away into a long sleep saved for the very tired.
Still, I must wake up, there is too much to do. Much to be done. I don’t just live for me, I have responsibility, mouths to feed that depend on me.
And no matter how deep I sink, I will always return for air, and the faces that await me there. Those beautiful smiles, silly giggles, bath time and cuddles. When we find just one moment in chaos of the day to touch, to rest my hand on yours so briefly. Sitting at the table, pulling faces and playing and forgetting to eat a meal that I’ve thought about all day. What’s the most I can make with the little that we have?
She sleeps. Rustling leaves, heaving hills one eye open.
Breathe.
The great weight of earth spread furrowed fields ploughed and sown stretch the veil between here and home.
Seeds will grow and flowers bloom Tree boughs sag low with glistening fruit adorned like stars across the sky connecting all that lives and dies.
All this to come, in summer deep. But for now, she sleeps.
This is my favourite thing I’ve written for a while, inspired by the magic of nature, the turning of the wheel and the return of the seasons. This steady rhythm is something we can align with, like breathing along with the sea swash moving in and out, we can connect with nature in a way that resets our mind away from the bustle of a life full of stress, of challenges, of desires and distractions that pull us away from the beautiful simplicity of nature and the heady fertility of the earth.
I am working on a print. This poem came to me whilst meditating on the ideas behind the print, but was ready much sooner than I have been ready to finish cutting the block. I’ve included a snippet of the work in progress to serve as the cover pic for now. It will come soon enough and when it does I will share it here…I am sharing the poem now as I keep misplacing it in my many writers books so wanted to store it safe and sound and available to all.
Fresh, bright blue of sea and sky. Under currents swirl winds whip and curl up foaming white crests that kiss the salty air carrying the cries of swooping swifts who tell us summer’s nearly here.
Like this poem? It was inspired by one of my prints. Seaside Swifts Poem was written to accompany my first handmade block print. I took inspiration from coastal life, and the beautiful event of the swifts returning each year. They appear out of nowhere, shrieking and swooping through the sign. It’s a wonderful sign that summer is round the corner. They return in their mating pairs to the same nests they return to every year. I wanted to capture the movement, and the freshness of blue sea and sky. In the background you can see the skyline around Portsmouth Harbour, with the Spinnaker Tower, Gunwharf and HMS Warrior. This is a limited edition run. Other than a sunset variation which I have in mind for the summer, this will be your only chance to own this print so if you want it, come and get it!
Slowly come, unfurling leaves woken up by warming feet. The sunshine strengthens days linger on life returns now winter has gone.
When everything is moving and nothing stays the same we can only keep our footing on what comes round again. We reach forward into future skyward promises of shoots while we lament on days gone past a history inherited through our roots.
2026
This Slowly Come Poem was written to accompany a print. Slowly Come was inspired by Imbolc and the early signs of spring. Brigid was said to walk the cold land, with the first shoots of spring appearing through the cold earth underneath her feet. It’s a beautiful story that inspired me to ponder on our ancient understanding of the earth and the seasons, and our deep connection with it all, so often forgotten in the modern world. There is a lot of power in taking a moment to reconnect. We are all capable of it.
I’ll take the gloom and spin it into thread. Gorgeous hues of greys and blues. Take my mental loom and weave it through and through into something fresh and new. Something colourful. Something comfortable that makes you just feel wonderful cause greys and blues are beautiful in another context.
So, what shall we make next? What sadness shall we take? What despair shall we remake? Tears rolling down the cheeks turn to paint as we dab, dab, dab away at our next work of art. The numb void of grief becomes full of story sharing tales of a loved one left and keeping their memory in the room. Anger fuels a sound that carries it far away on the wings of cathartic release. Then peace, for a while at least.
This poem was just pent up gloom that started bouncing around the room then boom it’s channelled into something new.
And if that’s not magic I don’t know what is then. It’s inside each and every one of us All we have to do is listen.
Bernadette Pamplin Art & Poetry 