postcards from behind the hedge and beyond

＊⁂⁂⁑⁑ let it snow ⁑⁑⁂⁂＊

2011-12-24T10:27:00.000Z

I'm wishing all of my friends a warm fuzzy love filled festive season.

May all of your wishes come true.

Thanks for all your concern and well wishes. I am fine.

Went to China, had a rotten time, broken heart, couldn't face blogging

All of this will pass.

Back soon.

XXX

笇 Noodles and mountains here I come 笇

2011-07-21T10:13:00.001+01:00

If you could be bothered to decipher the above diatribe you wouldn't gain much from it anyway. I have a huge pile of lists of things to do and the more I tick the more I add.

I can't even tell you about my work at the moment as it involves 75 amazing six year olds and I can't post photos or details of it just yet. Maybe when the project goes public. All I can say is it has been BRILLIANT and the kids were gorgeous. I learned so much and ALL their names and feel quite sad to wave them all off to the juniors. We did an incredible design project and I feel I can pull a proud face.

Then another flurry of secret squirrel activity involving illustration, books and publishing which I also can't divulge on the bloggo. Not until it gets to print. I've a million ideas under wraps....I just have to be quite discreet until things start to bear fruit. Hence my complete lack of information. I'm sure you understand.

So, I have got nothing to show and nothing to tell but just thought I would fly in before I fly out again next week on my mission to China. I'm sure I'll have some show and tell then.

My suitcase has hardly cooled down this year and I may as well have left it packed.

Quite excited but apparently unfazed. Bored of sitting at airports and God Bless the iPad. For without it I would be a lonely traveller. Next blog post might invoke noodles, mountains and humidity and from my freezing feet here in summery/wintery July that sounds like a plan.

❨❨ esprit de l' escalier ❩❩

2011-07-04T21:25:00.000+01:00

Summer is racing through...I know I won't catch up with it now. Long days of snoozing and reading were de rigueur in India and now I am working hard and planning for my impending trip to China. I think it's going to be rainy season when I am there.

I really have no idea what to expect.

I think I may love it.

But first I am submerged in a great project in a wonderful school, spending my days with gorgeous bright sparky kids. Double gated securely in the middle of an Essex estate. I am having the time of my life. This is real. Real life. Real lives. Children with no precociousness and grubby shirts. I only see smiles and love, all day long. Kids and teachers. I could skip around the playground. And probably will at the end of term. I feel like the Pied Piper some days with straggles of little jumping Jacks and Jills following me to our studio.

I had such a strange moment this weekend, I came face to face with someone I really admire and completely lost all my speech faculties and felt such an idiot on reflection. The person in question was Jamie Oliver, a famous UK chef who has done so much work to change the way we eat here and made some very admirable efforts towards social change too. I got introduced to him at Feastival which was a great little festival set up by JO, lots of food and music on Clapham Common on a sunny day. If it is on next year, then please go if you are in the UK. Highly recommended. Friendly and interesting and 100% of the profits go to charity. I was there as a guest and very nice it was too.

As the evening came to an end I found myself being introduced to J.O himself and having swigged a couple of cocktails I had been swaggering and bragging about what I would say to him if I got to meet him.

After an introduction I warmly shook his hand and said Jamie, I'd like to thank you for three things, Red Thai Curry with Jasmine Rice in the 30 Minute Cookbook, School Dinners and your Ultimate Christmas Gravy. I also told him about the amazing project I am working on in schools and how I loved the School Dinners campaign and how it joins up to similar practises I share with my own students. Oh we had a proper tete a tete.

In My Dreams.

REWIND<<

After being introduced I stood there racking my brains as to how to start a convo without sounding like an idiot, a simpering old woman or a crazy fan. My mouth opened and closed and Jamie, the gentleman that he is, smiled encouragingly and dear reader. I failed. So, on he moved without a backwards glance at what could have been the beginning of a lifelong collaboration in improving the lives of children and my culinary skills.

Can you hear that thwacking sound? That's me, kicking myself.

Jamie, I came across as an idiot with a grin. I am sorry. Can we try again?

⧻ a letter from now ⧻

2011-06-19T19:56:00.000+01:00

➛ open studios ➛

2011-05-06T09:06:00.001+01:00

The day of the Royal wedding dawned and we forgot! Well, we had no tv, not much internet and the Kathmandu Post didn't have much to say about it. I'm guessing it was different for you whether you were Stateside or Blighty Bound. We were completely oblivious to that dress or that kiss or the ridiculousness of those hats; my girls in the studio have no idea who William and Kate are. They still don't.

We'd planned a little open studio day. The girls picked flowers on their way through to work...a small mountain posy for our table. We had been making new stuff for weeks and wanted to show it off...the jewellery workshop next door was doing the same. I was nearing the end of my two month voluntary placement and it seemed like a good time to have a show. A kind of semi colon to my time here.

Here's how our studio looked and a sneak peek at some new products that will be making their way across the seas to be sold via an ethical fair trade company in the UK.

We had piles of albums and notebooks that have all been handmade by the girls, all of the paper and materials are locally sourced in Kathmandu (not an easy feat at all) and I think they did a grand job and I felt like a proud mama. Sometimes, it's really hard to not dive in and say I'll do that when I see struggling fingers and hesitant hands but I resisted the urge as they'll have to continue producing this stuff without me watching over them. I'll just let the images do the work in this post. I am quite happy not to blather on for once.

I'll let you know in due course where the products can be bought to support the charity...

இ postcard from Nepal (rainy afternoon) இ

2011-05-01T10:14:00.000+01:00

ᗗ saying a prayer for them ᗗ

2011-04-17T11:04:00.001+01:00

Who am I to ask for prayers to be answered, for wishes to be granted?

I just add myself to a line of devotees and hope that some of their Godliness will stick. Their goodliness might brush shoulders with my sadness and form an apex of wishes granted?

Visiting Bouddhanath, site of many a pilgrim's dusty hopes and wishes,

I joined the peace on a sunny,wide bluesky day. Tangled in an alleyway of seller's tatters I felt the calm, the sanctuary of my surroundings immediately.

What a beautiful place to spend an afternoon.

With the eyes of higher beings on you the whole time.

Be Good, Be Good, Be God.

Walking around and around the giant stupa and ringing spinning bells in full fat sunshine, metal warmed by wishes and worn by wringing hands...

what goes around comes around

what comes around goes around

I go around again and watch the birds looping the loop and the whole circle,
the whole circus that this circle is, soothes me and I smile
and it is returned again and again.

Everything moves here, flickers, dances, jumps, the flags leap and roll in the breeze, people circumnavigate, dust rolls from the stupa, the eyes of an ever watchful God are fixed. I roll around and say out loud my prayers, are they like birthday wishes? They might have to be kept secret.

I'm not tired of bunting, flags, blue skies or beautiful places yet.

This place is a confirmation of joy.

And this one is for you, my lovely friends who inspire me, send me words of encouragement and wonderful messages of hope and love, I thank you, I thank you and I am keeping the prayer flags flying. And I am keeping going and I am trying to live up to what you think I might be. I think I saw the eyes wink.

⊙ The day they let me loose in a paper factory ⊙

2011-04-06T10:25:00.002+01:00

Picture this? I'm being driven through Kathmandu in a taxi, seats furnished with bathroom mats and a very sweet, earnest driver, we swerve around school buses with drivers glassy eyed and leaning into mobile phones.
School girls with long once white woollen tights scatter across city highways, over shawled and over wrinkled old ladies wander through heavy traffic.
Vehicles suddenly go into reverse and one way means actually any way you like?

everyone shrugs and moves over

this would enrage the British, the rules; what about the rules?

A surplus of sadness pills in my stomach, that life can be so fragile, that this is it...here we are, all leaning like dominoes on each others ability to think clearly, to move in turn, to skim over imminent disaster like rice rolling in an oiled pan
no mans land:
no rules land

Oil and water, I dream of them, I'm inhaling dust here,

this airless, dirtbowl of a city,

my feet are cracking open and I have callouses on my toe pads

I'm becoming old before I'm ready

the dust settling into my lines and widening the cracks,

the thinning and drying of skin and surface whilst everything still boils and rages underneath

I am still a volcano

I reach up and out and in

over and over

feet grinding into ground that could tilt into an emergency

I'm holding on to the sides of my yoga mat in a rush of electrical storm

in a gale of thunder cracks and dry lightening

evening storms canter around the valley like dice in a cup

drying up

rolling up
spitting me out at dawn

wide awake, I recognise a cuckoo's song;

it's Springtime in Kathmandu

I'm here, I'm here

I dream of an oasis, a sea, a pool? a wetness that isn't here

I'm landlocked

I never felt so far from the quench

We survive the journey to the paper factory on a bus racing
car chasing,
motorbike ricocheting
piece of road,
"the factory highway "

Lots of industry gathered in one place,
past the Rose Garden Restaurant and the lone petrol pump..

I enter through the grey gates held open by a small walk on character part Nepali

verging on the role of oriental doorkeeper of some exotic brothel, a twinkle in his toes

a query in his eyes? He should be in the movies...He is in mine.

And I'm in the paper factory, a huge hanger of a building

Wide open at each end and tables in the murky dark with workers all masked

breathing in paper dust all day.

I'm glad to see a kitchen, lunch being prepared for workers, this isn't a sweat shop

this is a good business here.

A sign proclaims they do not employ children.

The production manager is a sweetheart, he indulges my over excitement and lets me roam the factory sighing and distracting his workers. I am spoiled, suffocated by choice, overwhelmed by colour combos and size and weight and colour.

I'm here to buy paper for book covers, these are the sewn book blocks that I have taught the girls to make. And below is the first stack that I dare to rifle through. It's too much, even for me who likes nothing more than fanning through reams of print and colour.

It's everywhere, piled high, a laundry of assorted flora.

Giant carnations of pink chrysanthemum, I am high on giant dry flowers.

The garden is the dyeing department, a dip into green then a spreading and a sunbathe.

The paper die cutting department, located in a leaning shed...a huge press and these paper dies looking like architectural room plans. I'm in love with their lines, their ability to cut precise sharp creases. The kiss of paper, the hiss of press.

And ladies applying dots of colour to boxes, labouring under a rare sunbeam that spotlights spots in the dreary dark.

These last sheets are some of my buying decisions.

They are already attached to books...drying now in the quiet studio.

Here I am
Coating myself in ointments and creams
exporting paper reams and dreams of the sea.

Δ I'm always "square pegs in round holes" Δ

2011-03-29T18:05:00.000+01:00

It's been a long time since I've been home. I keep wondering what it will feel like to walk on through into my space, the neglected air of the unlived in life. The unbreathed in or out of rooms. I think of my children, my bed, that dog, a fire in a stove and a garden happening without my daily examination of it. Does it even exist if I'm not there to prod it?

And I mentioned the other day about 'going back' and someone very rightly pointed out that it's not Going Back at all. It will still be going forward. None of us are ever going back. So, a little home nausea creeps in but it's there to remind me that somewhere there, is a place where the wind will whistle out of my aching bones.

I will find the dreamed about hum of silence.

Kathmandu is noisy. India is deafening. Asia is chaotic.

My home page home surrounded with its thick traffic noise absorbing hedge is almost unearthly quiet. The noisiest thing is the dawn chorus which used to wake me up dawnly and dutifully as the birds sang the day into life. Here in Nepal there is the usual competition between dogs, the boys school next door, which sees the arrival of pupils around 6 am whereupon they beat the rhythm of a football against a half built, half concrete, half bamboo scaffold. Like a steady shot of stutter, the bouncing ball rolls through to my subconscious and lets me know it's time.

Time to get up, sit, meditate, find a small corner to unroll a skimpy little yoga mat and do the one thing that makes everywhere feel like home. Reaching up and out and in. Coming home every morning. Going Back? Never.

The other constant colour in my life is the print studio. A solemn concentrated walk away. I have to be fully aware and intent on traffic, potholes, dead things and the strangely ugly but endearing, one eared half dead dog that almost wishes me a Good Morning as we meet each other's eyes. He sits and he sits. Blinking into the dust, the exhaust, the weary brick lined streets.

I scoot across the crossroads where the road has been dug up more times than I can remember and I've only been here a month. No health and safety, no signs, no cordons. Just a hole.

In the middle of the road.

Big enough to swallow a motor bike and several passengers.

If you fall in it, it's your fault.

It's refreshingly non nanny state but there must be a happy medium.

This isn't it.

I turn left at this marigold and enter the art centre where we have a print and binding studio. I have started to try to make it a more inspiring place. Fill it with spring leaps of colour. The joy is already in here. Bouncing from the walls like the eternal football. It just needs a touch of illustrating.

The deaf young people I work with are bubbling over with enthusiasm and sweetness. We greet with a traditional Namaste, hands in prayer and then they rush me for a hug and I love them then for their simple faith in me and that we're going to have a great day together. Cutting, sewing, measuring, glueing. Smiling, signing, even singing, one girl sings a tuneless song under her breath, it is the soundtrack in here. It's comforting. Like Nepali tea made from milk bought in a plastic bag.

The girls travel for an hour to get to the print studio, they live out of town, in rural places and they trickle in to work by microbus. A jam packed bench seated small truck. They pick small plants on their way to the bus stop through the rural landscape and bring them to the studio and we print them. They were using dark indigos and clarets but I'm trying to encourage a bit of experimenting with colour and thanks to a very generous and kind offer of some new ink from Chocolate Girl we got a delivery from FedEx of some white stay open ink. This will hopefully open out our palette into a new spectrum and we can't wait to get mixing and cooking up a feast of colour. Thanks to the generosity of previous sponsors, we have a small table top etching press which we use to make these monoprints of plants...And I, in turn, have been turning them into rubber stamps to ease up the process.

The studio is a bit basic and thanks to the Power Problems we have here i.e intermittent supply = no water. If there is no power, then there is no water as it needs a pump to operate. The only water supply is in the loos anyway so we installed our own sink and water supply. I think this might be considered luxurious around these parts. It is poor. It is basic but we make a do.
I don't think I could ever moan about my cramped, packed to the rafters workspace ever again. This is my challenge here. It's hard running a print studio with very basic supplies and even if we could afford them, the specialist items aren't available here in Kathmandu.

So far, I've become a teacher of bookbinding, a guide for printmaking, a creative force, a reader of faces and body language and I'm learning Nepalese sign language. I think I can say for the first time I am spinning on newly oiled and slick machinery.
But I have to say that out loud to believe it.
And no-one to hear me but me.

During the last four weeks, we've moved to a new studio and I've been painting out a wall full of dark uninspiring emo graffiti with the aid of a table and a bamboo ladder. I've taught two new book structures, had days of printing sessions and lots of quality control. I've also got a desk full of hand-carved (by me) printing blocks to make this year's Christmas card. I've designed a new catalogue and am in the midst of the charity newsletter. Not much time to bruise and ponder. Just as I thought. A more thoughtful me is emerging. Not necessarily kinder but lazier to leap. But towards these hesitant hands, eager eyes and half closed sea shells of ears I feel an ocean of kindness, a rush of tenderness for difficult lives and fuzzy round the edges futures.

⫚ getting lost and the possibility of an earthquake ⫚

2011-03-20T07:25:00.002Z

It's been ages. This is down to a couple of things. No electricity=no wifi=candles and early nights. This is good for catching up on sleep especially as it is cool at night and I can snuggle under a quilt reading by candlelight and drinking tea. (a hobby of sorts). I have also been throwing myself into the joyful division that is my work here in Kathmandu. It's very exciting and I really want to share with you images of the bookbinding and printmaking we have been doing but it is early days and I have to check with the boss that it's okay to publish these things and as he is really busy I don't want to disturb him with my minority blog reading requests. So stand by for gorgeous work images and I'll just take you with me to Darbur Square in Patan and the surrounding streets for a little tour of the Nepalese neighbourhood in which I reside, for now.

If you look closely you can see the Himalayas in the distance. A feast for my eyes. I had been quite sick for a couple of days & had lived a well worn path between my bed and the bathroom for a while and this was my first excursion into sunshine and streets and the mountains made my heart lift. My legs were a little dehydration caused wobbly but I managed to snap some pics. I want to return here at dawn, no people and probably more magnificent if that is possible. I loved it all. This is a world heritage site and it's stunning. An architectural dream and you can wander all over the place and sit on the little temples and you get left alone. I can't imagine English Heritage being in charge of this slice of history.

Then when I was meandering around this collection of stunning shapes and layers of history I decided to dip into a cool dark alley and had a cup of tea then promptly got lost on purpose. My new favourite thing to do.

I am so nosey, poking around streets where life goes on unchanging for people; despite the world mutating and morphing and nature's power changing the world in a heartbeat. Nepal is due an earthquake. It wouldn't cope. It is overcrowded, overbuilt and very unstable anyway. In the house I live in here, there are earthquake alarms and notices telling us what to do. Drop to the ground basically and cover your head or get under a table? It is unnerving and when I wander these streets I can see how fragile this whole city is. A deck of cards. I say my prayers that these lives continue unrocked for eternity.

There are more images on my Flickr page if you'd care for some more snaps! I will be back with the gorgeousness that is my job here. I am truly amazed and touched by what I am experiencing and am loving every moment of teaching and making with My Girls. Will tell all as soon as I get the OK and of course I know you will be waiting for the Trip To The Paper Factory post I am planning.

It was enough to give me the vapours.

Love from my little room in Nepal...

᚛ 4,600 ft feet above sea level ᚜

2011-03-04T05:59:00.000Z

Mysore to Bangalore = 3 hours taxi ride and it aint the M25

Bangalore airport = 2 hour wait time

Bangalore-Delhi = 2.45 hr flight

Delhi airport = 4 hr wait

Delhi - Kathmandu = 1.40 hr flight

My journey began at 2am and ended in Nepal at 5pm the next day...

Exhausted , headachy and dehydrated.

This is my first view from the roof where I am staying.

As we circled Delhi waiting for permission to land I could see a mustard streak that sits above the city, a gruesome layer that floats atop the smokey smog like an ashtray cloud. A yellow Delhi ghost. Delhi looked huge and packed full of buildings. I'm not sure it looked very appetising although I am sure it is full of interesting India. The big cities scare me a bit in Asia. I'm a fan of the suburbs, the rural areas, the pastoral idylls, even if they do mask suffering. Suffering is everywhere but in a big city it's tangible, it's unimaginably awful and it's there in front of you. Reminding you that you have never ever got any reason to complain. Forget our badly paid jobs, our boring lunch, our knackered cars, our busy workload, our lack of motivation, our relationships....Suffering is everywhere and we all have had some but here it's mind boggling. I am going to pray for the grace to remember this stuff...this grey slimy misery, this yellow frothy topped city and try not to moan or wish for anything other than this blessed bit of life I have.
I really wish these life lessons would stay with me, but as we all know I'm the complainer of the century, the moaner of moaning, the itchy footed freak and I can but try.

After all of the waiting and zooming around in planes and sitting around at airports I was wishing I could unobtrusively take photos of kissing couples, sleeping tourists and strange hippy travellers. I'm waiting for Apple to develop the brain app, a tiny camera implant which means all that I see I can download for viewing later. Especially as we started the breathtaking descent into Kathmandu airport. Oh wow, a big lot of wow. I had begun to notice the sky clearing as we headed East from Delhi and the Himalayas were coming into view. I had booked a window seat and I was so glad. Mountain ranges look great from above. I'm not sure I want to climb Everest or anything but I do like looking at them. Once upon a time I declared myself a beach person but maybe I'm more inclined to mountains these days? It's definitely a mountain I climb every morning on my yoga mat...
As the plane sunk and my ears started popping and glugging I had the view of a lifetime, mountains, foot hills and green, green rice paddy terraces looking for all the world like torn edges of paper, layered and stacked in formation. No way of taking a photo but I will hold that image in my heart for ever. Beautiful, stunning and I wished I could slow down time so I could gaze some more at little houses on big hills surrounded with contours of grassy emerald and jade.

Landing was fine, after Bangalore and Delhi it looked like we were skidding into the Wild West. A few dilapidated buildings, nothing glittery or shiny here (thank goodness) I even saw a horse making a late afternoon shadow on an empty road and I thought there and then, "this might be my type of town."

I was met by a volunteer from the charity I have come to work with, as we raced through the narrow brick walled streets of Kathmandu I felt a frizz of life jump start my heart. I had arrived during the festival of Maha Shivaratri, the streets around the airport were bubbling with people and I saw impromptu drumming and dancing sessions by chillum smoking Sadhus. Hilarious and almost frightening, the driver zoomed away and we left the shouting and stamping feet behind us...

I'm going to be exploring more this weekend, I am working every day in a printing workshop which almost made me cry when I saw how simple and pretty it was. I am working with late teens/early 20s who are deaf and I am going to be learning Nepalese sign language twice a week, it is different from any other sign language apparently and I've also got Nepalese language lessons twice a week. Amazing. Pinching my arm as I write. This is my life? Thank you thank you. And it was casually mentioned that I would be visiting the paper makers next week and I'm sure my heart boomed loud enough for everyone to hear.

I'll show and tell some more next week...this is a sneak preview of the printed journals that they make in the print studio and below are some hand carved wooden stamps I found in the local mobile phone top up shop! Needless to say I bought a couple...the horse to remind me of the one horse town I thought I was flying into and the lotus seated pranayama yogi to remind me how I got here and a hand (not pictured) offering the blessing of good fortune. All made by hand, you can see the nicks of the knife.

In my very brief ventures into the surrounding streets I've noticed that Kathmandu is a land of craft and makers. There are handicrafts and arts everywhere... It's going to be thrilling. It's very different from India, I'm still trying to work out why. The light for starters and not as friendly as my beloved Mysore but it is early days...I've only just begun.

ᕱ moving on with a lighter heart ᕱ

2011-02-24T15:20:00.000Z

"For now she need not think about anybody. She could be herself, by herself.
And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well, not even to think.
To be silent, to be alone.

All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk,
with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge shaped core of darkness,
something invisible to others.

Although she continued to knit, and sat upright, it was thus that she felt herself; and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.
When life sank down for a moment, the range of experience seemed limitless...
Beneath it is all dark, it is all spreading, it is unfathomably deep; but now and again we rise to the surface and that is what you see us by.

Her horizon seemed to her limitless."

from To The Lighthouse-Virginia Woolf
quoted from A Field Guide to Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit

I am preparing to leave India for Nepal. Next Wednesday sees me moving on.

Never

Ending

Peace

And

Love (apparently)

Here I come.

Nervous

Excited

Packing

Anxious

Looking forward to moving on

I already know the internet connection is going to be terrible,

so, bear with me my friends, I will be back.

ҩ loving the bones ҩ

2011-02-16T06:48:00.001Z

I've joined a writing group. I normally have trouble with things that have group in the title, being a touch insular and having a fear of myself (autophobia-which is apparently cured by the almighty fix of yoga).

But it is one of my new favourite things. Being in a group AND confronting myself. The panic subsided on meeting my fellow groupies who are now my new bessie mates in Mysore. I am becoming a belonger and whilst I resisted it for some time by sticking to my Essex ways I am settling into happiness and I'm rocking a smile big enough to light a small village in Nepal.

It's only three weeks until I go to work in Nepal.

My new new fear is the power cuts that are daily occurrences there. According to my sources (i.e I can't remember who told me) the evening news on Nepalese television was read by candlelight in protest at 18 hour power cuts since the Nepalese sold their national electricity to India. A bit like pawning your lunch maybe? I curl into a panic at the thought of a) not being online b) not being able to read and c) not being able to see insects that may be hiding in corners before retiring. I am trying to convince myself that if I can manage to do a whole primary practise every morning and not die in slime on my mat, then I can cope with a little thing like that. But the time is looming for me to leave the sanctuary of my Indian mummy and I'm going to be going it alone in much more challenging circumstances.

BIG deep breath. And smile again.

Writing class is an exercise in making time to write, in a very informal setting. We each write a word on a scrap and fold it up and put it in a bowl for the middle of the table. There is usually cake, coffee and snacks too... Then one at a time we choose a word and we all set off writing inspired by that word for 2, 3, 7 or 9 minutes.
And out the words cascade.
I had no idea I had so many jumbling around up here. I can't get them out fast enough. They somersault out of my pen like kids set free at home time.

Then the bit that I was really scared of happens. We Read The Words Out LOUD. I was actually terrified of this bit. After all, the words that we write have no rules therefore no structure so it's a little like laying your mind out on the page and if yours is anything like mine, it's random and hip hop, tangled and a bit sweary. But it's fine here round this table of secrets. No judgement, no criticism, no praise, just listening to the words that someone else wrote is a big pleasure. It's inspiring and comforting and even I can do it. In my best Essex accent! The various international accents are a pleasure to listen to. It's as though I am tuning into a world radio installation of beautiful words, stories and snatches of prose. I really love it. I never want it to end. I wish I could catch the readings in a shell and listen to them later.

It's similar to yoga practise (which you might have noticed I try not to talk about, attempting to hold something in, maybe something like my Mula Bandha!) The writing is similar in as much as it's a practise of sorts and it is changing the way I look at things once more. This is very good for me. I want to change. I am glad to see things differently. The idea of practising creativity instead of waiting for it to strike like a midnight thunderstorm. This is revelation. I recommend it to anyone wanting creative sparks. Whatever your speciality might be. This, I am sure, would work for anyone. You don't need to be a writer.

So, now I dream of writing and fountain pens and the sound of scribbling. And dare I say it, I am able to concentrate, focus, immerse and absorb my asana practise more than I was before I started this writing practise. Light is illuminating the dark corners here anyway.

Sending a big smile from over here to all of you out there. Thanks for reading.

ⓁⒶⓏⓎⓁⓄⓄⓟⓈ

2011-01-29T16:42:00.004Z

At the moment, apart from my mornings filled with yoga and meditation, I am enjoying swathes of space to think, write and doodle. I'm going to be working full time when I get to Nepal so this is MY time! A creative bath. I soak in it for as long as I can. It's quite hot and sunny and going outside soon shows me who is boss (the sun of course) so afternoons are nice and cool in my little rooms. I don't even need the fan on much in there, not yet. So I stretch and lounge like a spoiled pet.

I take my camera on a visit to the kitchen because something smells so good in there. I love Pushpa's kitchen. the reflections in the marble, the fresh vegetables and the soup bubbling away on the stove.

The stove is a two burner calor gas affair on which Pushpa is able to produce vegetarian banquets unlimited and deluxe. The pans to cook with are like little vessels with no handles, there is a multi purpose gripping handle that works with every pot. Quite a neat system I think as it's less washing up and takes up less room. Also less places for grime to hide.

If I keep the bamboo blind up on my balcony the sun pours in and my ever vigilant Pushpa spies an opportunity to dry out her dahl which is easier to churn into powder for the magic that she does.

We take it in turns to follow the sun with the spread paper until it leaves the room.

This would make a great stop motion animation.

Here you can see the shadow of the rope that holds my blind up.

I like looking at it, it reminds me of sailing with my dad.

So these lazy loops are not just what my days are made of, the washing is a 'must do' job. A fragrant heap of yoga wear soon accumulates and a bucket is my washing machine. After navigating the pipe work map that lives in my bathroom I am able to drill into hot water after 11am as the solar panels have been doing their wonderful little job of providing us with free hot water.

And in I go with my Jasmine and Rose washing powder. I love doing my bucket wash, it's just fine. I'm doing stuff by hand and that counts for a lot. I love rinsing and rinsing and the thunderous rattle of water hitting an empty bucket is one of the Official Sounds Of India.

And the joy I know you will share of hanging washing out on a blow dry hot roof with coconut trees keeping my clothes company. As Chocolate Girl rather cleverly puts it
"a lovely bit of billowage"

It dries in a couple of hours and smells quite a lot like sunshine.

This is of course easy for some of us to take for granted.

The UK is crippled with grey sky for ever at this time of year.

I say thank you thank you thank you. And then scoot back down to my rooms.

And while I am roving this afternoon with my camera I thought I would give you a brief glimpse of my new year's resolution fruit which is to teach myself to embroider. Please don't laugh. I am enjoying it thoroughly. I don't have a manual, I had one from a charity shop at home but left it in a packing disaster zone. I bought one here

"Learn Yourself 121 stitches with Pictorial Guide"

You couldn't make it up.

but I am having trouble putting faith in a book that calls a needle a neddle.

And I can't understand the diagrams!

So, here's me.
very roughly
stitching a story

and only slightly more successful are my crochet squares which are keeping time with me

and being rather meditative and good company in their own right.

I think I might need a yellow wool to sing out the sunshine song.

This is going to be a blanket made of very happy memories.

I'm not allowed to throw these cut ends away. Apparently they will be useful.

I can't imagine what for but then again, I'm always after a little thing to knot or tie.

Love from me who appreciates all of you who drop by and share my blessed life.

I wish you could all pop round for chai and a spicy curried biscuit.

Then you could hold my wool while I ball.

ᙊ beware of the crocodiles ᙍ

2011-01-26T13:36:00.000Z

The lake is the closest this city gets to having lungs. Despite being close to the chaos and pollution, this area is literally a breath of fresh air here, especially at 6am. Clean and cool and quite perfect for a stroll. The mosquitos are nowhere to be seen and the birds and creatures seem completely unbothered by us.
Quite a lot of locals come here to trudge, walk or jog around the lake.
The lake is also home to fishermen who fish in coracle boats which are simple floating circular baskets. I have been in one before and they are surprisingly stable. Though when you look at them your mind fights this fact. Just beyond the fishing boats is a huge swathe of green that cuts across the lake and it is teeming with giant pelicans! Amazing! Next time I will get a picture but we glided past them when it was still dark. No way was I going to flash photograph them. Huge wings, huge beaks. I wonder if they ever get eaten by crocodiles? What do crocodiles eat anyway? Not chapatis & dahl.

Crocodiles live in the centre of the lake so I was a bit nervous, I hadn't read up on Crocodile Attack Survival but having said that I would have liked a crocodile wrestling story for my after dinner speaking tour.

I didn't see one but I did see the warning sign. Apparently when the lake dried up a bit last year the crocs were found wandering in the road. I don't know how true that is but how weird that would have been to see a croc strolling into the city.

I hope these two don't mind that I snapped them, aren't they gorgeous in yellow? They were briskly walking and the sun was coming up. I felt a bit voyeuristic, I do usually ask people but this was a fleeting moment of action.

And this crumbly glamour? Reminds me of British Victorian seaside structures. Love those stripes...

४ Pure Gold ४

2011-01-23T10:12:00.000Z

Every morning when I wake up, here in India, I see Ganesh. Remover of Obstacles and God of Beginnings, it is a good way to begin my day. If you've been with me a long time then you'll remember how I prayed to Ganesh for help in India and he sent me Pushpa. Read my early forays into Indian life here
Me and Ganesh? We got a thing.

But what also was becoming obvious upon waking is how much my hips were aching and how hard my bed was becoming. So I decided to buy a new mattress. My bed is bigger than a single size but not as big as a double and I went to the mattress making shop and constructed a deal (lots of head wobbling, head shaking and hand shaking) and chose my fabric from this selection.

These are brocades and I really like them. Can you guess which one I chose??

The mattress (handmade to my spec) was going to be ready to collect the next day!

Amazing. Customer is called Madam.

This is why I love India. Nothing takes forever and it's all done with a smile.

The mattresses are sewn outside in the street by a man with a very large needle. They are stuffed with pure cotton and pierced with the needle by hand.
And I really like them and wish I could have some at home for garden lounging and guest beds.
*phones export shipping company*

When I went back by rickshaw to collect my mattress I spotted it from the street.

Now I have a lovely comfortable bed.

And a growing penchant for orange.

And as a finale...look at this gorgeous creature I spotted this morning.

⠸ Tamaso Ma Jyotir Gamaya ⠸

2011-01-16T09:50:00.001Z

Tamaso Ma Jyotir Gamaya

Lead me out of the darkness in to the light.

It's festival time, Shankranti or Pongal. A time of cleaning the house, doing thorough Puja, (more cleaning, prayers and offerings to Gods). It's a harvest festival, a new beginning, a time to thank the cows for everything they provide here. A fresh start, a family time. It's lovely to be here now. I feel it washing through me too. Fresh air, bright light, a new skin.

So many smiles, children handing out sweets and bananas, everyone wearing their best clothes, their finery, the fanciest rangolis get drawn and boys drink beer late into the night and set off firecrackers.

This is the Puja corner in our house, some homes have whole rooms dedicated to the very serious business of prayer and giving thanks. This all gets cleared away and cleaned thoroughly every few days and fresh flowers and fruit offered to the Gods every day... Meditation is done here and chanting and burning of incense. I always creep into the house in the mornings after yoga as Puja is often being done. I learned my lesson after blowing through the house one morning like a demented sunshine girl high on yoga. Noone said a word, but I knew I had to be a bit more serene on entering the house in future. It's lovely and reassuring to creep into the house soaked with the smell of incense and flowers and breakfast is cooking and my dear Pushpa is sitting in prayer looking so tranquil.

Happy Shankranti means the livestock gets dyed, decorated and even more revered than usual.. yesterday I saw luminous dayglo pink cows in our road and didn't have my camera ready and charged...I managed to find this decorated cow later, with green horns and a crown of marigolds. You might know this already but Hindus believe that Krishna is going to be reincarnated as a cow so the cow gets the royal treatment here. Fed and patted and loved by Indian housewives everywhere. The cows just take it all in their stride. And then a day of make up and flower wearing and body paint. Lucky Cows!

Happy Shankranti means that in the evenings the children all put on their best clothes and take a tray of bananas and a sweet mixture of dried coconut, nuts, lentils and jaggery around to all the neighbours houses.
See below my little pot of deliciousness~I love this stuff!

On my travels, I wish Happy Shankranti to people and they give me little bags of this mix which I must always accept gracefully and then when I go to another part of town and they wish me Happy Shankranti I give them the little bags of mix I've just been given and we just move bags of this stuff all round town! Last night the children came round with bananas and we give them bananas so the whole exercise becomes a banana swopping marathon. Hilarious. I said to Pushpa, make sure you pick the best ones and we'll have them for breakfast. Luckily I had a bag of packets of colouring pens I'd brought with me so I was giving them to the kids and became Queen Shankranti herself, which is as it should be.

I met this girl earlier, she was stunning. They are all knocking themselves out with the outfits this festival. I've been invited to a wedding next month, I am hugely honoured and very excited about all the colour and ritual. Perhaps by then I'll be immune to it. I don't see how though. I am as usual over stimulated.

And because of Shankranti the rangoli is even more elaborate than usual. My love of rangoli is never ceasing. It's still hard for me to get my head around the fact that these patterns are usually poured from a handful of flour. The flick of a wrist and this is what happens. True artists. I've watched them in action, I've tried it. I am never ever going to be able to do that so beautifully.

I just record it because it's gone by the next morning and a fresh one applied. Or the husband comes home from work and parks the auto rickshaw on your hard work.

Grounds for divorce?

Lots more rangoli images on my flickr page. I love it. It just makes me happy to think of the first job of the day is to wash the step and draw a new rangoli. Art and design and creativity first thing! And because it is made from rice flour the ants eat it which keeps them out of the kitchen (ants are a problem here but they are tiny little things or big big shiny ones,

not inbetweeners like the UK ones)

What a brilliant brilliant beautiful way to solve a problem and bless the house at the same time.

As you can see I am in ❤❤❤ with India

⟖ world service ⟗

2011-01-11T16:47:00.000Z

I am feeling quite excited about being here now. It's taken me a while to adjust and disembark.
But, hey, I am in India and it is, as usual, madly exciting, exhilarating and calm, all in the same moment. I'm well rested, feeling inspired, enjoying my pigeon English conversations and sharing smiles with almost every person I meet. As usual, an overload of colour is causing malfunctions of over stimulation and I am going to share some of my images with you from the last couple of days.

I went to the haberdashery shop as I really want to make something when I am here and when you are in a hot country there is only one thing for it, a blanket...I didn't intend to but I saw the wool and was smitten. I can't even tell you how cheap it was, ridiculous. Pure wool, colourfast (so they say) skeins in the most eye aching colours. I bought a few for 126 rupees (£1.79) and had to wind the skeins into balls, all rather delightfully old fashioned.

Especially if one listens to BBC World service on a crackly radio whilst drinking Twinings Tea!

(I'm not being paid to advertise on this blog, but get your people to talk to my people if there is a proposition in the pipeline)

Once I'd wound my balls, I had the sweetest afternoon on a sunny veranda listening and hooking and thinking about lucky I was to be able to be alive in that moment.

But then on my evening walk, the moment just before dusk when it seems as though there is a magic ethereal quality to the sounds and colours of India, a moment when anything seems possible and hopeful and an air of expectancy hangs in the air .....I saw this! Which fired up my wanty engines very much. Crochet garlands anyone? Someone find me a pattern?

But then I bought some embroidery thread and now I've got too many projects in the bag already. I shall have to stay here for a long time using up all my haberdashery. Would you have been able to resist?

And what colour cloth shall I embroider my life story on? It's enough to make a girl lose her decision making capabilities.

It's just as well I've got the gift of yoga to keep me grounded and unimpulsive and focused.

And I am so thankful that I haven't had to handwash all of these clothes.

Until next time, Namaste and Lots of Love...

ૐ journey to India ૐ

2011-01-08T10:36:00.001Z

The relief of actually arriving in one piece and getting through passport control was so noticeable that I realised that I was all screwed up & anxious without realising it. I'd had a few problems, obtaining my visa, the endless bank holidays, the mad rush of Christmas and the general unsettledness that sits next to the excitement of getting away. So when I woke in a taxi outside Pushpa's house, I could have cried with gratitude.

Since I have been here (only 2 days) I have been sleeping a lot and napping at weird times, jetlag really gets to me and makes me pay. I snooze and wake and wonder where I am...

I've started yoga, ouch. And it's a 7.30 am start which is an improvement on last year's 6 am. I wake at 6 and do my daily meditation (see my resolutions) and listen to the birds that live outside my window.

Visually I can't help but be drawn to shadows today. The lack of sunlight in the UK was becoming oppressive, all that cloud just sitting over our heads is NOT FAIR. But today the shadows are jumping out at me proving the sun is up there.

I'm beginning to unfurl, to stretch and breathe. I didn't realise just how much I had been holding it all in. I'm in the decompression chamber. I can see light.

✒ my unadulterated list for 2011 ✒

2010-12-30T14:44:00.000Z

Click on the image to see it bigger...

A little tongue in cheek, a list of resolutions.

The bit about being nice to everyone?

I can but try {sigh}

I was having a PollyAnna moment

I was trying out some pens and a stamp I made for Rebecca N.

Sometimes I think I might forget how to write... I'm always typing these days,

I remember being at school and covering pages in scrawl and being envious of

some girl's writing and trying to copy her sloping tiny-ness.

But I just kept BURSTING messily out of the page!

I don't suppose kids today have handwriting envy?

Now tell me? What are your resolutions for 2011?

Do you have one? Or a multitude?

✻ cabin fever ✻

2010-12-28T13:06:00.000Z

✰ Christmas Past & Christmas Present & a peek into the future ✰

2010-12-22T12:36:00.001Z

We all have our Christmas 'traditions' don't we? Our very own family quirks and routines that make this time of year so loved and dreaded in equal measures. I loved Christmas when my girls were little, so many ways to excite and surprise them with imagined sounds of sleigh bells and decorating fresh trees that were always too big for the house. Velvet stockings with gold trim stuffed with gifts and satsumas and apples! We have the same fairy that we had then and a whole box of decorations that exude memory and occasion. (all a little tired but that's the point)

I went through a phase of loving Christmas, then hating it and refusing to play ball at all and back to loving it again. I'm loving it again. It's peculiar and it's ours. My beautiful girls and their various splendid friends, my gorgeous mum and my lovely other dad, various loved family members, friends and friends of friends. Whoever wants to come really. I cook and cook and cook, after I've cleaned and cleaned and cleaned and shopped and shopped and I love it when we all sit and eat and we are there, right then, around the table on a variety of chairs, all of us alive and laughing and bickering or smiling or lost in thought. Because there are those that we miss every day in every way but there is always a candle lit in memory, a flickering constant prayer. Sadness is a side dish of Christmas.

I wish all of you a very special time this season.

Thanks for being there reading this and giving me a massive ego boost now and then.

It's most welcome. It's so good to get to know you all...I have found so many new friends through this blog and although I haven't met all of you in person I do feel such a nice connection so thanks for taking the time to share my world & letting me in to yours.

It's been a welcome distraction.

So, to the breaking news. I am going on another of my trips. In the new year. This time I am off to India (again) to get back on my yoga practice that I fell off of and am missing incredibly. I will really look forward to a strict regime again. I crave getting up early and laying down my mat and flowing through some breath and stretch and making the space in my heart bigger. I have let it dangle and I can't do that, I have so much faith in the power of yoga.

And then, ta daaaaaa I am going to Nepal. Kathmandu. This is so utterly thrilling for me as I am going to work with a charity and teach printmaking and bookbinding skills to children/young adults and hopefully help them design, package and market goods to sell; which will benefit them all long term. And benefit me by having a whole lot of new people and places to visit. Isn't it amazing? I am so lucky and I know that deeply I am blessed and I thank the amazing fortunate events that have brought me to this point. This is something I have wanted to do for a long time. It is a bit scary, a big adventure, but sometimes I just have to take a leap and jump. I have never been to Nepal, so will have brand new fresh eyes and that's the best for sharing. This does, of course mean that I will be sharing my adventures with you too. When I see it for the first time, so will you through my words & images. Through this blog. Which is nice for me as it helps me keep a little toe here in England. My home and hearth and heart are here. They always will be. The wanderlust is rousing me, I have to go and see, again. So, Mysore, Delhi and Kathmandu....wow. I couldn't have imagined that years ago when I first bought the fairy.

I do get homesick and I do get lonely and I miss my family too much but I also Want To Do Something. So this is my attempt at Something and hopefully it will be Meaningful. With the internet and Skype and Twitter and Facebook there are many ways to keep in touch with my family in between the power cuts and the dodgy phone lines. It's faraway but not really...So, all that is left is to wish you all a really lovely holiday season, however you celebrate it, whatever your faith and traditions are I hope you have a beautiful time.

⫷and breathe⫸

2010-12-15T12:47:00.000Z

⦁ Benjamin's Book ⦁

2010-12-01T13:46:00.002Z

Rebecca wanted a book for her new born son...Benjamin. A photo album that she could arrange pictures, notes and writings in. I used watercolours and my hand carved rubber stamps to make the cover, I also created something similar for the back cover without his name, I just forgot to photograph it. The name was created with my 'circus' rubber stamp alphabet that I drew freehand and had made into rubber stamps in India.

The spine is lovely French book cloth in teal. The pages are all hand sewn with linen thread and each page has a 'shim' which is a very very short 'page' to allow for content to be added to the pages without bulging the book out of shape when full. It's easier to show you an image!

Rebecca was very happy and it's a really nice keepsake that is fully functional. I hardly remember to take snaps of my work as it comes and goes too quickly but this was on my desk for a while as I was snowed under. And now we literally are..
Hope you are all enjoying the snow in the UK? It just makes me incredibly hungry.

❄ the more it snows ❄

2010-11-30T09:27:00.001Z

As I type this, the snow is falling, those fat drifting flakes that float to earth. I really love the first snowfall, the soft padded silence that insulates my street and with the lack of traffic I could be anywhere, I could be in Narnia. Of course, by tomorrow the novelty will have worn off and the dog and I will have cabin fever and be ready to maim for fresh supplies.

This morning, I am off upstairs to my temporary letterpress studio to finish printing my Xmas cards...Using a very old Ajax press (which is a variation on an Adana) I am slowly learning his personality and his need for cajoling and fine adjustment. I have written off a fair few days on this Ajax beast but I have learned so much that I can't consider them wasted days but let's just say my achievements amounted to zero. It's always a hard fact that things don't always come easy or fall in your lap with such romantic outdated printing methods but the smell of ink and the tack of the rollers and the increasing pile of success is infinitely more satisfying than the whirr and click of a digital printer. Eventually, I become proficient and I get my rewards.

If you are a regular visitor to my blog and lover of handmade and hand printed then make sure you are following me and then drop me a message with your postal address and I'll send you a letterpress postcard. My way of saying thank you for sticking around when I am busy and don't get here so much.

⟴ a few words ⟴

2010-11-01T21:45:00.000Z

Some images from my desk this weekend...and one from my woody walk.

Let us not procrastinate...
This is a link to the best blog in the world ever
apart from yours of course...
http://productiveblog.tumblr.com/
I am busy, you are busy.

I won't keep you.

{*}

⚫ plump glossy rose hips ⚫

2010-10-15T16:55:00.004+01:00

This is a prayer, a slow easy over under

The stove clicking and ticking and with each opening

The flames rumble into the room and I link and breathe and dream the colour of the air

I promised myself a long time ago to learn something

completely new with each passing year.

To add to the things I will always be learning and illuminating and improving on.

This year it has been meditation and crochet and the art of letting go.

In discovering what is good for me I find a twirl of peace.

Have a lovely weekend.

⚯ Catching up with Autumn ⚯

2010-10-12T20:00:00.000+01:00

♕ queen of shops ♕

2010-10-01T19:09:00.000+01:00

I'm back in the rain and grey and gloomy doom. I thought you might have had the decency to have an Indian summer waiting for me but alas only the grey carpeted corridor of Gatwick greeted me and my 20 kilos of luggage. My luggage was packed with my purchases of wool from the haberdashery shop in Turkey.
Knitting and crochet are very popular pastimes in Turkey. It's very hot in the summer but becomes cooler in the winter especially in the mountains. Even in the warm days that I was there I saw older people with woollen hats on and shawls & knitted socks appearing in the shops.
I am teaching myself to crochet and very nice it is too. I am not very accomplished but I am enjoying making little granny squares and it keeps my idle hands busy. So to the wool shop I went to buy some pure Turkish wool for my blanket which I will deem a family heirloom before I have begun.
The shop was divine. The proprietors spoke very little English so I just swooned around them and they didn't mind me taking a few snaps which I knew you would all love to see.
It was a haberdashery heaven...

The wool choice was staggering in colour and grade and it was all so much cheaper than here. Pure 100% wool was 4 Turkish Lira for 100 grams which works out to around £1.70. And the hanks of wool worked out much much cheaper than that. And if you didn't mind an acrylic mix then you would pay a few pence a ball. Not Fair is it? That's the problem with living on an island that isn't self sufficient anymore. Grrr. We should have lots of good value home spun wool. I thought we had loads of sheep?

Check out those colours?

Every type of button you could possibly need?

And reels of ribbons galore...

Zips and...

Trim and lace...

And the sweet couple running the shop bought us Apple Tea on a tray. It's just normal behaviour in Turkey. They don't do that in John Lewis do they?

I'll keep you posted on the crochet blanket...it's my new going out.

♒ my Turkish birthday ♒

2010-09-23T06:19:00.002+01:00

Dear Blogettes
I am having a lovely time in Turkey, it was my birthday on Monday and I celebrated by sharing a boat trip with some friends around the blue bays of the coast here. The sea was the perfect blue, the boat a little rickety, the lunch was all produced in a kitchen the size of a cupboard and was delicious.

The sun shone all day as it should on birthdays... beginning with the breakfast for Kings, tomatoes, feta cheese, olives and bread, eggs and cherry jam...

Leaping from the boat into turquoise seas and bringing forth birthday sea urchins for my delight..

Another treasure to add to my nature table...

And the day ended as gloriously as it began, with tequila sunrises at sunset... all birthdays should be as beautiful as this for everyone.

♍ you know it's autumn when... ♍

2010-09-13T09:03:00.001+01:00

It's time to take the summer canopy down and pack away the bunting...
The sky is still wide and blue but I'm off on my annual jaunt to Turkey and I'm not sure
the weather is going to be as pretty as this when I return...
So I pack away the summer into the drawer under my bed and
not wish too much time away until I can retrieve it all...

After all, I love the autumn and a chance to catch up on my crochet,
my stove and my reading..
I think I achieve more in the winter months, longer evenings..
a sense of time drifting.
I bought this lined basket at the boot fair yesterday to store my wool in..
My wool was kept in a shoe box waiting for the right thing to appear.
Ta daaaaaa. £2.

I also bought this pretty book for 50 pence. I cannot resist a lovely looking book

even though I am as musical as a row of green ten bottles sitting and falling off a wall.

And I know it's Autumn when my lawn is dotted with fungi.
I feel very drawn to these otherworldly beings.
I'm going to sketch them just so I can determine their structures.

I'm bound to have some lovely images from Turkey to share with you..so I'll be back soon.
Enjoy these late summer days. They are sweet and bitter.
I'm off to eat figs and gaze at mountains.

♟ I always wanted to work in a library ♟

2010-09-01T13:54:00.000+01:00

If you want to make index/library catalogue cards like this then pop over HERE.

It's a good way to waste some of your life

{*}

☀ 31st August ☀ {brighter hope}

2010-08-31T19:24:00.000+01:00

THANK YOU

Thanks for all your lovely thoughts and comments around my August Break images.

And thanks for lurking if you did just that...I do it all the time.

It's been really quite nice to just choose one picture that epitomised my day

and now when I look back at this August it's quite memorable in it's details

because of this set of images.

It's been good to stay in touch with a picture.

And now on the threshold of September I'm hoping to bring you more words

If I can think of any?

Thank you for all of yours.

★ August 30th ★

2010-08-31T19:16:00.000+01:00

◭ 29th August ◭

2010-08-29T16:16:00.000+01:00

╯ August 28th ╰

2010-08-29T16:14:00.000+01:00

◒ August 26th ◒

2010-08-29T16:11:00.000+01:00

仝 August 25th 仝

2010-08-26T11:58:00.000+01:00

〓 August 24th 〓

2010-08-26T11:55:00.001+01:00

◦ August 23rd ◦

2010-08-26T11:53:00.000+01:00

●August 21st ●

2010-08-26T11:51:00.000+01:00

☀ August 20th ☀

2010-08-22T13:03:00.000+01:00

☁ August 19th ☁

2010-08-22T13:01:00.000+01:00

❍ August 18th ❍

2010-08-22T12:59:00.000+01:00

▣ August 17th ▣ {not quite quiet enough}

2010-08-17T19:43:00.000+01:00

This is my lounge as of today. The fireplace has always been a bit higgledy piggledy raggle taggle gypsy O and I was using a chimenera from the garden as a stove which is dangerous and inefficient. I wouldn't advise it unless you fancy half the fire brigade stomping through your lounge.

(hmmm, second thoughts anyone?)

I longed for a new stove and had my nose pressed up against the stove shop window for most of the last four winters. And then I spun off into an extravaganza whirl and bought this little beauty. It was fitted yesterday and the guys showed me how to fine tune the air flow to make the stove heat the bones of my house. One burnt log later and I was stripping off clothes and fanning my hot flush face. (the fitters had actually gone by this time btw)

Blimey. It works. Really really well.

So now the gypsy in me is happy and even more so that there is enough space to pop my little orange kettle to heat on the top. Darlings, I am NEVER going to leave the house except to gather kindling and waft past the fire station giving them the thumbs up.

Can I confess though? I hastily painted the inside of the fireplace pink as it was so pale pale green and was not doing anything any justice, not even my complexion. But now as usual I am having a mini 'what have I done' crisis and thinking a riot of colour may not be the best way to express myself?

Or do you think it will grow on me and it's just a bit 'fresh'?

And as you can see I need a 'g' to complete my 'lounge' statement, sometimes I need help as to which room I am residing in. But I do have a small 'g' that is on the desk for refurbishment but if you have any other spare letters it would be good to have a few options. A new fireplace game called Frabble. (which is alarmingly like Fireball)

Postal address supplied on request.

As my friends would say... eff off, you're getting on our nerves now.

◦◦◦ a break from August break ◦◦◦

2010-08-17T08:00:00.001+01:00

Earlier in the summer I found myself in a meeting about funding for the arts, I always find it quite hard to absorb so much information and then have the wonder of what to do with it all. Meetings like this can be really great for meeting other creatives and I met Martin who was interested in my book making and he kindly commissioned me to make a limited edition of ten books. He had a friend who had sadly passed away and had left a little sheaf of pages of writing all about the building of a bicycle. Martin wanted to turn the flimsy pages into something more substantial but all on a budget. So we had a meeting and came to some decisions and the following images are what we came up with. The original pages were printed on what appeared to be a dot matrix printer in 1995. I didn't want to change the look of this at all as it had so obviously been designed by the author as he chose and to replicate these kinds of texts can be time consuming and costly. So, I scanned all the pages, with their creases and dust and reproduced them exactly.

Then I joined and collated all the spreads and sewed them up into the book blocks. This was then bound into plain white paper covered boards. I then took a selection of bike parts; a spanner, a few cogs, some bolts, a spoke etc... These were begged and borrowed from a bike shop and were rather greasy and black. For my plan they had to be absolutely clean, so I covered them in tomato ketchup over night and washed them in the morning which made them silver and shiny like new. A brilliant tip that worked beautifully. Mentally file it, it will serve you well.

Then I used my nipping press to deboss the bike parts into the cover.

It's not exactly easy trying to show you these white on white images. Imagine white velvety covers with very tactile shapes with every tiny detail pressed into the covers. They felt so crisp. I was very pleased with the result and so was my client Martin. I did an edition of 10 with 2 artist's proofs. Each book had a unique debossed cover and was numbered as an edition.

It was really nice to be able to help Martin achieve his dream of getting something nice done with his friend's work. And I should think somewhere his friend would be very touched too.

␥ August 15th ␥

2010-08-16T21:57:00.000+01:00

Ⓞ August 14th Ⓞ

2010-08-16T21:54:00.000+01:00

━ August 13th ━

2010-08-16T21:51:00.000+01:00

◐ August 12th ◑

2010-08-12T15:10:00.000+01:00

⇔ August 11th ⇔

2010-08-11T18:00:00.000+01:00

◈ August 10th ◈

2010-08-10T22:28:00.000+01:00

☉ August 9th ☉

2010-08-09T21:46:00.000+01:00

☰ August 8th ☰

2010-08-08T20:32:00.000+01:00

⊕ August 7th ⊕

2010-08-07T22:52:00.000+01:00

▦ August 6 ▦

2010-08-06T18:44:00.000+01:00

∦ August 5th ∦

2010-08-05T16:23:00.000+01:00

◤ August 4th ◥

2010-08-04T20:48:00.000+01:00

◉ August 3rd ◉

2010-08-03T17:08:00.000+01:00

▞ August 2nd ▚

2010-08-03T17:05:00.000+01:00

◆ August 1st ◆

2010-08-03T16:59:00.000+01:00

▼ silent august ▼

2010-08-01T12:18:00.004+01:00

I've joined this project because I thought it would be nice to shut up for a while

So no drivel from me, just a pic a day.

For August.

Ssssshhhhhh

{*}

••♡ Fancy Nancy ♡••

2010-07-19T15:58:00.000+01:00

Here are the finished lino prints from the tutorial. I cleaned up all the excess lino and got down to a production line of printing. I used my Adana press but you can just as well do the printing by hand. I used a pure Magenta ink and thoroughly enjoyed watching row upon row of postcards appear...

I went into production for a nice little job I had to do last week. To make and design press packs for Fancy Nancy, a gorgeous bakery that is doing a Christmas presentation at Harvey Nichols this week.

Because this is how the world works.

Whilst we are sweltering and dreaming of running naked in the surf,
lots of designers/makers/businesses have to think about Christmas.
Anyway enough of the C-word.

It's more than a little hard. Hands up who remembers all that snow?

A press pack is just some info for journos about a company or product. Usually quite dull affairs or needlessly expensive publications. I wanted to make a nice little presentation and Juliet of Fancy Nancy is just one of those gorgeous clients who leave it to me.

Here's a peep at the press packs I ended up making to be distributed to all the journalists to let them know all about Fancy Nancy. I made a rubber stamp of a cupcake and made all these bag toppers. Another production line developed and of course I had to leave them all spread out to dry.. it was a particularly windy week so I had to be really careful which doors and windows were open otherwise we could have ended up with cake stand postcards being stuck to cupcake toppers and that would have been VERY BAD. And with the windy weather I could not take anything outside to photograph in good old fashioned natural sunlight so forgive the crappy pics but at least you get to see some of what was created.

So, every press pack got a cakestand postcard, a little Fancy Nancy booklet with all the info inside with images etc. All designed by me. I'm loving the doily designs. It was lovely to work on a real girlie vibe with cakes and weddings and sugar coated possibilities. Here's the piles of booklets. Made from one page wonders...I'll have to show you how another time.

Inside each pack was a little decorated printed biscuit beautifully made by Fancy Nancy. I developed a great sense of willpower and didn't eat one. It would have been so easy to pop one into my biscuit sized mouth too.

And here are all the finished pieces with the early morning sun glinting off them as they waited delivery.

Like a row of party bags for grown ups. Now, there's an idea.

Fancy Nancy loved them...and I love them for letting me 'show and tell'

⏆⌇glancing out of my reverie⌇⏆

2010-07-12T13:47:00.000+01:00

It would indeed appear that I have disappeared but it's not true.

I am here, mostly, hiding from the sun and converting garden rooms into studios

because inside became too dark, too warm

and too separate from what was going on out there in summer.

It's been too glorious to blog, too hot to think, too bright for computers

and I had a little blogging break.

But not a break from anything else...

it's business as usual behind the hedge.

I still have unfinished business re: lino prints but then I started a whole lot

of other stuff...you may like to see a pile of cut sari cloth to be sewn into bunting.

I had to use those saris for something.

{before I go back and buy some more}

And I found in my cupboard a bag of remnants from silk ties..which are now almost
mini bunting...{a delicious charity shop find}...see close-up below.
Rich & exotic jewels, like treasures from another world.

I have got more things to show you...if the rain carries on we could be in for a bloggy week.

I think everyone in blogland has melted into the shimmer.

《《 leaning into the afternoons 》》

2010-06-22T15:27:00.000+01:00

⊱ overexposure ⊰

2010-06-20T22:10:00.001+01:00

I go to the graveyard for Father's Day. I miss my dad. I lie on the grave and ask the sky why doesn't it swallow me whole and it opens white and wide and yawns it's reply.

Afterwards...

I stop my car open mouthed under a canopy of white boned trees. I ask a man on a tractor why this whole row of trees doesn't have any leaves and the gravedigger tells me it is a moth infestation. Every tree is covered in a webby muslin that flaps like plastic in the breeze. It sits so appropriately in the graveyard and is quite astonishing.

Mrs Haversham's dream, an overexposed, cling film wrapped film set. The moth larvae spin their beforebornness over the gravestones and grass..a theatrical sheen of winter white in the bright June day...

Supposedly the trees will return to normal after this cloaked strangled suffering.

I imagine they will stretch towards breath and light like love in the morning

※ part three for your dear hearts ※

2010-06-13T21:33:00.001+01:00

Some weeks it's like this in my head

fragile, fractured and foolish

And then it all leaps together like hares in the fields and I am done up again

Made again, right way upped and laughing high.

Making pictures, taking long looks and standing surrounded by air scribbling swallows.

I don't forget you of course and that we are on Part Three of Printmaking on Kitchen Tables,

Garden Benches and even Ironing Board Studios.

I was fortunate and foresighted enough once to bid on a load of ink for 'small presses' on Ebay. I think it was about £2 for tubs and tubs of the stuff and the carriage cost me a lot more but here it sits in my studio gathering dust but never forgotten. A selection of colours too. I buy ink anywhere if it's a bargain. It seems to grow a skin and then beneath that waxy shell the ink stays perfect for years and years. I was tres lucky mon amies but you might too happen upon a delightful bargain. I probably strike fear into most printmaker's blackly beating hearts because I use all kinds of inks and mix them up a bit. It always seems ok.
I am probably a printing pirate.
Ink supplies are available from
http://www.lawrence.co.uk/
http://www.intaglioprintmaker.com/
and a recent find for me
http://www.jacksonsart.co.uk
(they will deliver to Europe)
So, using a piece of glass, (mine is an old glass chopping board) or flat non-porous surface squeeze or scoop some ink onto your surface. I use old kitchen knives for this task;
no need for spatulas or special tricks.
And begin to roll...you can use a cheap basic roller. But if you fancy this printing lark for more than five minutes, invest in something more charming, more seductive.

Spread your ink, smell that oily gloop and remember to come back to the moment.

Roll over your lino block in all directions to make sure you have inked up every little groove and turn.

Then carefully place a clean piece of scrap paper over your inked lino, use a lovely old spoon to burnish the back of the paper and transfer the inked design onto your paper. Try to use a regular circular motion and do it for quite a bit longer than you think you ought.
Keep the paper still.
You want a good strong deep print.

Old spoons are best as you don't end up bending them under pressure.

And you know they don't make spoons like they used to.

Then carefully peel back your paper and admire your handy work. At this point you can note what may need tweaking, trimming or readdressing. I know I want to remove all the excess lino from around my design because I only want to cake stand on a white background. But this was just a test print to see where I was. It's easy to get lost.
Sometimes I think it might be easier to move into one of my best friend's gardens
and live in her little caravan.
Just enough room to breathe.

↑ part deux (onwards & upwards) ↑

2010-06-07T08:20:00.002+01:00

It has been the busiest week...I have been having a b-a-l-l

I think the sunshine brings out the best in me and everyone around me. I popped to London in the week and I could have sworn I was in a village, all good-natured banter and helpfulness. Chatty bus drivers? Whatever next?

I saw some brilliant work at my old college/uni/place of divine learning

The degree shows are here again and I love going back to my old London and checking out the action.

BA Photography at LCC at The University of the Arts was very visionary.

BA Book Arts in the same venue was, as always, thought provoking and I have seen the future of books!

{I'm not sure I understood it all but I got a momentary glimpse & a couple of Eureka moments}

BA Sound Arts debuted this year and I was blown off my plimsoles with it.

W.O.W

Kinetic sculptures & noise at unbelievable frightening, disturbing levels.

Freaking Amazing.

I was almost speechless if I could have heard myself think.
Head down to the Elephant & Castle for the action.

I'm almost pretty certain that the introduction of the odd French fried word in my vocab these days is down to the visitations of a certain Frencharian to my blog. Go see hers ici It must really suck to live in France on croissants and romantic breathy films whilst being drunk on joie de vivre.

Meanwhile back in lino cutting heaven, back to the ranch and we are debuting too.
With the cutting.

The first cut is the deepest and all that

Bon Chance Mes Lovelies Bon Chance

Guiding your blades around your outline is a good way to establish the boundaries of your design. Think of it as carving a little moat. You'll revisit and add details later. Maybe even after a test print. You can always cut more away later but not add to it so take it easy with the process. It's so easy to carry on cutting because of the therapeutic and meditative qualities this process invokes. Reign it in mes enfants. Reign it in.

Cut and carve with your blades {a scalpel can be very useful at this stage} Some of the more fiddly details can

be drawn with the blade and then lifted out with anything 'pokey'. I love my etching needle for this.

Remember the flat part of lino that you take away from your design will not print.

I want all the 'holes' in my cakestand to be holes so I have very carefully and painstakingly removed them.

And I am still here. I didn't swear.

I made like a yogi printmaker and adored the fact that I was alive doing this.

Next time, which will be a lot sooner then this time I shall show you the inking and printing process.
Any questions? Post them as comments so everyone can see.

∽ the post that keeps on giving ∽

2010-05-27T11:01:00.000+01:00

I've been working on this post for a while. Born out of requests...I add to it whilst I'm doing other things. I think they call that multi-tasking. It takes a while but if I keep all the plates spinning then I get somewhere. I've been doing some lovely commissions and took some pics on the way, so although you don't get to see all my finished things, you get to see the process which I much prefer anyway. Warts and all.
And so I bring you the first instalment of Printmaking for Beginners. I would love your opinions on whether you find it clear and explanatory and if it whets your appetite to create and well, any old thing you want to tell or ask me.
Here begins a tutorial on making a single colour lino print using the most basic equipment available and quite easypeasy jackanesaylemonsqueezy to complete without a press and other hugely expensive stub your toe on machinery.
I like to think of it as 'kitchen table printing'.
Revolutions have started with less.
Click on all images to see them better/bigger.

Regular lino, it's okay, great for beginners but it has a tendency to crumble and isn't quite as well behaved as it should be.
B- in the school report.
But as it's more than likely what you will start with and so I am going to use it for this tutorial.

Japanese Vinyl and other gorgeousness available from various printmaking suppliers including http://www.intaglioprintmaker.com

http://www.lawrence.co.uk

Beware of print and art supply shops, enter with your eyes fixed only on what you require.

Preferably wear your blinkers and tear out your tongue so you can do no more than weakly purchase your requirements.

Go one step further, take only your change purse, not your plastic.

I am not responsible for your art supplies habit, now or never.

↑I highly recommend these as a beginners selection and you'll have them forever↑

This is the very first set that I used at college. I still use them and still love the way all the blades fit into the handle. Such style and panache. I've never seen them since and I don't know who made them. They cost about £3 then.

Find an image that you want to make a print of. I am working on a series of prints for a cake suppliers and cafe. I took this snap with my iPhone. It's perfect as a study image. I drew the wire cakestand on a piece of paper and then traced the drawing onto tracing paper. Then place the tracing paper, pencil side down onto your lino and rub the back of the tracing with a pencil and it will transfer onto the lino. The joy of this is that you do not have to draw onto your lino in reverse. Everything needs to go backwards onto your lino in order to print it the right way round (incase you are thinking of using text this is especially important)

A picture does indeed say a thousand words

coming soon....starting to cut.

ϕ Me and May ϕ

2010-05-12T14:59:00.001+01:00

❍ pillows talk ❍

2010-05-05T23:28:00.000+01:00

▧ gates and entrances to entrance ▧

2010-04-26T09:21:00.001+01:00

India and gates and iron and steel work. Endlessly fascinating to me and responsible for eating up quite a lot of my camera memory. Every house in and around Mysore in India seems to have such interesting entrances. Like the titles of a book, they were the unique and creative titles of the property.

(Dreaming of lotus flower gates at home)

In a book shop in India {hours and hours spent in the air con deluxe environment}

I found this delightful book. A reference book for gate designers and makers.

Screenprinted (quite badly which only added to it's appeal) in red with the odd page printed inexplicably in black or blue it has become my favourite thing that I bought in India.

♒℉ishy business♒

2010-04-19T13:11:00.000+01:00

Don't take to the smelling salts just because I am back within the week. I meant it you know. I'm a woman of my word. Which works against me sometimes but that's another looooooonnngggggg story.
It's been a productive week, lots of coming and going, toing and froing, huffing and puffing.
A quick peek-a-boo at some of my moments...

I gathered all my rubber stamps together and made this as a promotional piece. It's all the rubber stamps I have carved recently for various projects. Using my quite ridiculously large collection of inks. (it's one of my cheaper habits)
When I was a porous, diligent art student at The London College of Printing or the LCC as it is known by these days and I extended my printmaking skills, I felt as though I had come home. The thoughtful, meditative quality that comes with printmaking was a great soother to me in those (when I look back on it) quite troubled times. But printmaking is a process requiring equipment and it means making a mess and although I can quite easily manage both of those; the simplicity and ease with which I can quickly carve a stamp is increasingly seductive.
A block of rubber, my trusty lino cutting tools and a selection of ink pads and almost instant results. I teach the basic techniques of this at The Make Lounge. Everybody can do it once they know how. A few points in the right direction from an experienced maker saves so much time and wasted materials ;-) And we achieve quietness and concentration in class there. Printmaking weaves a spell of contemplation. A yogic focus. If I had a bit more time on my hands I would take a few of the other classes there myself. They all look amazing.

Here's a few cards I made earlier with some offcuts from book projects, painted watercolour circles and fish and seaweed stamps. I haven't got around to folding them yet, will come back and pop them in the press later when they are dry. It's coming up to lots of birthdays and I love sending cards, HATE buying them.

And in my quieter moments I wander field and woods trying to walk off excess rhubarb cake and keeping the dog happy. It's Spring you know!

love what I do⏅do what I love

2010-04-13T22:19:00.000+01:00

It is time to get my house back in order and reattach myself to this sharing caring blogging process. I had a crisis of faith about the whole thing since coming back from India. My creativity has been tocking away like a metronome & I've been working away like the shoemaker and the elves.
But didn't want to share it *how mean and shellfish of me*
I think it was the whole process of looking inwards and not being sure that I liked what I saw and thinking how frivolous my image making and making process is compared to the bigger picture of our existence and blah de blah blah...sometimes introspection is terrifying but I have now realigned myself to .this.is.what.I.do and acceptance is at hand and I am looking at using this 'gift' to change something about my approach to the universe. Sounds complicated right? Jeeez, you wanna stand here for a while. It's a cacophony of voices and ideas and on the verge of madness but I'm harmless enough.
I just wrestle with why I do this and how perfectly everyone else seems to do it and to be honest how airbrushed it seems when the life I know is messy, dirty, smelly (that's the dog, not me), hyper, critical, argumentative and sometimes just like a box of fireworks that someone dropped a lit match into.
Fizzing and squibbing into a blackened collapse.

And then I look at some of the creativity that is out there and I have to reattach myself to the community that is more honest than most of 'art' and say, "can I come back in now, it's cold outside?"

India and I, it's love. I miss it but actually it's great to be sparking off with stuff here and blogging and I? It's love too and although I can't share too much 'work' with you due to contractual constrictions here's some snapshots of life behind the hedge at the moment.

❉ home made and home recorded love ❉

2010-03-30T10:40:00.004+01:00

To bring a touch of sweetness to a rainy Tuesday and to

show off my amazingly talented future son-in-law's song writing

and video making skills.
{Or you can go here}

Because I can and because these two are beautiful and charming.

In the most delightful way.

Proud mama with bragging rights.

Let's make it go viral?
Ladies and Gentlemen I present Dave Woodcock...

p.s when it starts it's silent at first...

°Ah there you are!°

2010-03-29T15:10:00.000+01:00

As you may have guessed I've been feeling rather unbloggy but that's just because I had to catch my tail after two months absence from normal activity. Lost in a heavenly world of daily yoga practise and towards the end of my trip, committing myself to twice daily meditations I was a serene haze of gauzy wrap and landing back here was a delight and then quite quickly a mildly depressed bruise.

Having dived straight back in to work related activity and waiting out on the edge of winter keeping warm vigil behind the hedge I am slowly becoming more acclimatised. I keep exclaiming to myself "Ah, there you are" and then realising that it's not quite me and then doing it again a few days later. "Ah, there you are" but no, it's not quite me either. I think I may have reset or changed a channel slightly within me but I can only presume that it is for the better because I am not miserable or worried; just different.

I think there is an outline of me still on a yoga mat in India eternally practising the Ashtanga primary series.

Which is just as well because all good intentions and self promises are kicked over the hedge here.

There is much work to do.

From headstands to leaps of faith, it's time to get cracking.

For all of you who sent me so much love and encouragement on my Indian blogging I thank you and will bring you more aspects of Indian life as you requested. It's just that I've been struggling to even look at my images. It's coming.

ȭ bubbling over or it's blubby over Ỡ

2010-03-16T16:53:00.000Z

What can I possibly say?
Hello? I'm back? It's weird, I'm weird.
Holiday blues, post-trip depression? I dunno.
I'm full of stuff, ideas, drawings, writings, rearrangements of lives,
further yoga practises, deep thoughts and sadness, full of it but there is no outlet.

I need lancing.

I'll get back to you