If I could write a letter to my teenage self I’d start by saying, you beautiful, sweet girl, you came into the world such a flux of forces, swirling pushing, pulling and you were met with just as much. Everyone is out to shape you, to mould you, to bend to you to their will, still, you are so much more than any of those things. Relax child, relax, enjoy your time at play. You don’t have to have everything worked out. You don’t need a plan for everything, things don’t need to be exactly, precisely perfectly right. The fear of getting that wrong could hold you back from so much so just do it, just do the thing that calls to you. That, that thing that could trip you up, mess you up, fuck you up. Just live, live wild, live passionately, life is a symphony, you just need to pay attention to what matters to you. All the matters is what matters to you.
Swaying blades of grass in a wind of melody punctuated by rhythm. We move. Arms lifted to the heavens. Reaching for power beyond our grasp. Reaching, united by the same song that means different things to us at different times to us, all different but uniting us.
The power of music, the frequency of life binds us in something larger than ourselves. Our shared consciousness transcends physical form for that one song. Just a song.
I am grateful for every morning I wake. I open my eyes blessed to have another chance at these precious days nestled in mankind’s slight time since the big bang brought particles into play racing through the endless void of time and space.
I open and close my hands, amazed to inhabit this vessel once more. One that has endured and carried me through heartbreak, self destruction and much loss.
I wiggle my toes. I am thankful for my feet. They have moved me countless miles. Taken me to places I thought I’d never see and danced the night away, true freedom felt as movement.
I thank the water for cleansing my body, the air for cleansing my mind, both for sustaining me. And the beautiful bounty of the earth, the magic of nature, the turning seasons that show us life will be reborn again and again.
The great swash of the ocean. The sunlight blinding. The smell of coffee. Love. Music. Art. Reading. There is so much to be thankful for, before we’ve even started on the day. And the more we notice that and hold that tight, the more joy will come to stay.
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?
