Holiday drawing

I usually don't draw much on holiday, but I have a happy memory of drawing these early one evening while D was making dinner in the tiny kitchen of our shepherd's hut in the middle of a field in West Wales.  

We had space for a mini break in early June and the plan was to explore the Pembrokeshire coast. Although the weather report wasn't saying camping, I wanted nature and super simple.   

We found a shepherd's hut (which is really a small tin shack on wagon wheels) just outside Tenby, Wales on airbnb. Perfect for camping lite but without rain soaked walks to the loo block and nights of flapping nylon.

I loved that it was a short walk across a potato field to the cliff path and then a choice of windswept hikes along the coastal reserve. Simple.

The hut was super cute inside, and I didn't feel the urge to clear away a single thing. Usually the first thing I do when I get to a hotel or B+B room is take down offending pictures, stuff frilly/satin cushions into a cupboard and get rid of all knicknaks. (Ye olde shepherdess figurines and jolly wooden lighthouse ornaments, I'm talking to YOU.)

We had cows for neighbours, and a little local train choo chooed by every hour or so, and birdsong - welcome respite from the sirens and constant traffic hum of home.

There was even time and inclination to draw. I love that I drew these campion flowers loosely, without that drawing school thing of 'draw what you see not what you think you see' sounding in my head.  This has its place, but for me it has become a Rule of Drawing, which is totally tiresome. 

I draw what I like these days, and how I like, more and more.

Everything Changes/Goodbye Summer

Hey, where did the summer go? Seriously. I painted this before heading to Turkey for a week of swims in the Med (which I am deeply grateful for, for sure). The holiday ended, in my case, in a stinking summer cold which meant I was indoors for 10 days watching the sunlight dancing in our London garden. 

A few more weeks of answering emails and next thing I know is I'm packing for a ten day vipassana meditation sit in Herefordshire. Reluctantly. I wanted to bail and seriously considered a last minute cancellation. 

So much time away. So many things to take care of, so much to enjoy and do as an illustrator, as a social media trainer, as a wife and friend. So much on in London.

I got on the train though. And, by the end of the ten days, I was super glad that I did.

I wish I could say it was a time of thoughts landing as softly as autumn leaves on the forest floor, that ten day sit. In the interests of full disclosure though, my mind was more like a bucking filly, clanging into every thought, kicking and rearing at every unpleasant sensation for most of the time. Nothing special about that, I guess.

So much wildness in the mind is revealed when all else is stilled, when life is lived with an inwards focus, sitting in meditation for many, many hours a day as is the programme on mediation courses in the tradition of U Ba Khin and SN Goenka. Unpleasant sensations abound, to put it mildly.

But there are breaks, respite is possible. The woods are my place to soften focus, to loosen my grip a bit. As I walk in the heightened state of sensory awareness that slowly arises on about day 3 or so, I find there is something new to see each time.

Small things: the moss among tree roots, tiny scratch marks around mouse holes in the ground, a pale spider, backlit in the early morning sun, waiting, just waiting in absolute spider trust for the next sustaining moment to unfold.

Tiny, slow changes also, things I'd usually miss completely: over the ten days, small patches of yellowing leaves turn here and there, the beginning of autumn. Apples ripening.

Time to let go of the summer, smilingly, as our meditation teacher, Goenkaji, would say.

Of course, there are also wonderful moments: long, deep, spontaneous in-breaths, the gentle blessing of Hereford rain on the roof of the meditation hall. Space between interior conversations expanding, softly. The capacity for healing opening up, compassion and joy arising as thoughts began to land more gently. 

Thoughts that gradually lose their importance and sense of permanence, no more and no less worth clinging to than the yellowing leaves floating onto the woodland floor. Everything changes, all in a flux, all in a flow (in Goenkaji's words).
 

More information on 10 day Vipassana sits in Herefordshire and worldwide is here - do feel free to contact me if you're at all curious to know more. It's the best gift you can possibly think of giving to yourself all year. Of that I am sure.

A wild flower logo commission

A producer based in Chicago who loves wildflowers so much that her production company is named WildFlower Production contacted me recently, asking if I could paint a logo for her, based on a detail of one of my illustrations she'd seen online.

I agreed, on the basis that I'd explore the possibility as an illustrator, as opposed to a perfect resolution from a graphic design point of view. Judith, the client, was happy to go with this as she is a creative herself, and had a strong sense of what she wanted.

I began with some research on the main letters. The brief was to form them from campanula stems, leaves and buds.

Judith decided she'd like the rest of the lettering to be hand written by me too, so I tried out a few variations. Which turned out not to be that varied at all - it's my own handwriting, after all.

I love the meditation of writing over and over again. It always amused me when writing a hundred lines out was meted out as a punishment in school. Duh. Don't you get it? I friggin' LOVE the feel of a pen gliding over paper. Yep, even a hundred times. Though this time I think I probably stopped at 30.

I sent over some pencil roughs before trying out variations of the wildflower letters, which again turned out to be pretty consistent. I guess painting wild flowers is a kind of hand writing for me too these days, in a good way.

The rest, as they say, is Photoshop.

Tweak, nudge, resize, nudge up, nudge down, shake it all around. Pin up on board. Mull. Tweak some more. Save as. Send to client. 

Take in feedback.

Nudge and adjust here and there, erase, flatten layers and arrive at a final version at last. Ping over in dropbox. Thumbs up from Judith in Chicago.

Happy client, happy illustrator.

Two new wild flower paintings

On May 1st, I picked these - carefully and respectfully, mind - on Hackney marshes. Whilst out there, I do believe I heard a cuckoo in the distance. 

Could be, right?  I'm no expert, but the sound of a cuckoo is pretty much unmistakeable.

Yellow flowers were a traditional part of Beltane celebrations, possibly because yellow represented fire, so I read in Wikipedia. The Gaelic May Day festival traditionally marked the beginning of Summer when cattle were driven out to pasture. Doorways and windows as well as the animals were decorated with yellow May flowers to protect them from evil spirits and to encourage good growth in the fields. 

I wanted me some of those good vibes, and sure enough, I got them from just seeing the yellow flowers in their jars in my studio. A very happy making sight.

Wildflowers don't hang around, so you best be getting on with painting them in a day or so, without thinking too much about the whole thing. Works for me.

Watercolour on Fabriano.

more wildflowers

The poppies and nigella in the top watercolour are perhaps not really so much wildflowers, not here in Hackney, at least not without the help of a pack of wildflower meadow mix.

I did the painting outside, on Midsummer's Day at the wonderful St Mary's Secret Garden in Haggerston. 

It's a community gardening project that is my midweek break from studio life. The new ecominds garden there is full of lovely flowers at the moment, so much so that its hard to stick to just wild flowers, but a narrowed focus is probably no bad thing for productivity and concentration. 

Do you have a favourite Summer flower?

midsummer wildflowers

I picked these in Hackney Marsh on Monday, almost in the shadow of the barrier around the Olympics/Radio 1 concert venue which is all fenced up and ready for weekend. Urban pastoral perhaps, but I love the wildness of the marshes, so close to where we live in Hackney, East London. Long may they stay that way. I had to paint quickly - these guys wilt, or the petals drop off, in no time at all. Happy midsummer!