Studio Notes no. 155

Quiet Festive Days & Small Stories

Hello Everyone,

I hope you are well and perhaps you are enjoying this festive season? I find myself oscillating between loving the opportunity to make things: decorations, gifts etc.. and then quietly loathing the too-much-ness of it all: the endless Christmas music on the radio (yes I do switch it off), the busy shops. We are told by the medias (both social and otherwise) that this is a time for party dressing and booze - neither of these things apply to me and I am sure a good few people reading this will say: nothing to do with me either. I do like to spend time with my small family and we are excited about what (and who) the new year will bring us.

But of course the festive season is a time for treats. Small treats I can cope with! I purchased a pack of air dry clay and gave myself the gift of time to make and play. I became quietly obsessed with bells and have also made a few other things besides, but the bells are the story of this festive playfulness. Give yourself time for something different - not just at Christmas, of course.

photo: a wintry display of handmade clay bells, collected things and more - I love wood and clay together. I sent Paid Subscribers a short but sweet video clip yesterday, featuring my Christmas and winter decorating at home - including a closer look at this.

I have also chosen to buy myself a charity membership to the Woodland Trust. (This is not sponsored. I got talking with a nice man at a fair and he gave me a big poster of trees - what could I do?). The Woodland Trust manages more than one thousand woods and helps to conserve vital species and habitats. Now I just have to find a wall with enough space for my tree poster.

photo: recent sketchbook pages

Over the past week I have been working in my sketchbook, making standalone sketches and contemplating the year ahead. Quietly planting seeds of ideas is a good thing for me at this time of the year - much better to have some ideas quietly germinating.

photo: recent sketchbook pages

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Book Recommendations for 2025

Thank you for all your book suggestions!

Here is a compilation list of the books suggested to me. I asked for non-fiction reading, with a focus on nature writing, history and art. I am listing all the books here - they may not fall into the categories mentioned, but I appreciate all the suggestions.

I share this list with the hope that you might just find something that sparks your reading interest - maybe you are looking for something to read over the new year.

I have added a few books to my TBR shelf and look forward to sharing my reading with you in 2025

In no particular order

Birds, Art, Life, Death - Kyoto Maclear

How We Might Live - Suzanne Fagence Cooper

Braiding Sweetgrass - Robin Wall Kimmerer

Tove Jansson: Work and Love by Tuula Karjalainen

How Emotions are Made - Lisa Feldman Barrett

Proust and The Squid - The Story and Science of the Reading Brain - Maryanne Wolf

The Hare with Amber Eyes - Edmund de Waal

Light Rains Sometimes Fall: A British Year Through Japan’s 72 Seasons - by Lev Parikian

The Country of the Pointed Firs - Sarah Orne Jewett

Golden, the power of silence in a world of noise - Justin Zorn and Leigh Marz

Yield, the journal of an artist - Anne Truitt

The Living Mountain - Nan Sheperd

Illyrian Spring - Ann Bridge

Fly By Night - Frances Hardinge

The Comfort of Crows + Leaf, Cloud. Crow - Renkl

The Back Yard Bird Project - Amy Tan

A Woman of No Importance - Sonia Purnell

Hermit: A Memoir of Finding Freedom in a Wild Place - Jade Angeles Fitton

Connecting with Nature - Karsten Massei

Please let me know what you might be reading over the year ahead. Do you have any reading goals or plans? I may be making some YouTube videos about my reading in 2025.

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photo: recent sketchbook pages

A few small stories

(here is a selection of small stories - they are inspired by my day to day life, but may be read as small fictions)

Chunky

We are now deep into soup season. I fill my slow cooker with vegetables, perhaps black beans or lentils, and let it simmer. I can get engrossed in painting or stitching without worry. Lunch happens when I remember to eat. I prefer chunky soup - I don’t care for soup that lacks texture. Perhaps my soup would be a stew to you, perhaps just so. A well-seasoned soup with more than a hint of spice - is my favourite. But I am not about to offer any recipe. I am a lifetime student of the chop-fill-hope school of cookery.

When it comes to storing soup - there’s a knack I have yet to master. I have various Pyrex containers and pots, but can I find the right size when I need it? I sometimes find myself having to eat a small second portion of soup. It tastes even better straight out of the pot. I stand by the kitchen window, watching jackdaws posing on the fire escape. Now if it would just start snowing - just for a short while - a little optimal cosiness.

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Escapee

A rat jumps up the metal steps of the fire escape. It looks like a rabbit escaped from a laboratory - all hop and no ears. I watch it scurry up and up to a neighbouring shop roof, on a mission to get to the next meal double-quick. It's another busy day for one fat rat.

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Patience

Just as I am leaving the park, I hear a familiar voice calling to me. Robin’s voice makes me catch my breath. In a tree on the other side of a wall is a bright robin redbreast. As soon as I stop to look he goes quiet, but is not too shy to stay and preen himself. Two girls, about eleven years old, stop to see what I am looking at. One tells the other to be quiet; they take photos of the robin; he is more than happy to pose.

Meanwhile, I can hear an older woman chastising her small dog. I saw them earlier on my walk. Pretty, big-eyed Meg, a King Charles spaniel, was misbehaving - not playing ball. Come here when I call you! You horrible little dog! The woman shouts. The girls look at each other and look at the woman as she walks toward us. As I turn back to look at the robin - who waits patiently for me to reapply my attention - I hear the woman say, in a quite different tone: Now Meg dear, let’s go home and have something lovely to eat! The woman and dainty Meg trot by. I can hear Meg whispering something under her doggy breath, but I would not like to repeat what I heard.

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Not Owls

Painting a wintry night scene - I want to add a pale bird swooping across the ice. But would such a bird really be there, in the darkness? Does it matter? Later, between dreams, I lie in bed and hear a bird, and another, a whispery, feathery conversation in scratchy voices right by my window. I think: not owls, not hooty enough. But might be something ever so slightly magical. I drift back to sleep.

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Orange

A family of three children and their father are waiting outside the bookshop. Dad, the youngest girl says, Dad, I’m hungry. Dad checks his watch. Did I tell you the story about the Buddhist monk who lived on just three segments of orange a day? Yes, you did Dad, you tell us that story every Christmas! You tell us that story all the time! A tall boy, in his croaky voice, warns Dad not to try telling that story again - Dad, he says, enough with the monk and the oranges story, ok? Dad laughs. But do any of you get it? Yes, we all get it, the older girl says, we all get it Dad. He lives on three bits of orange a day - because he’s a Buddhist monk! Dad shakes his head. I will continue to tell you the story until you get it. Yes Sensei, the boy mutters. Very good! Dad says, very good. But still, I will continue to tell you about the monk and the oranges.

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photo: painting blood orange segments back in January 2018 - I was really into detailed still life paintings. I learned a lot from challenging myself to paint ‘realism’ - and ultimately came to understand I am too playful to do this all the time.

photo: a recent still life painting - gouache on paper. Working with wet-in-wet, organic shapes with my quiet palette. Yes you can be both playful and quiet.

photo: a recent painting - Winter lane. It is painted yes in black and white. Gouache and gesso on mount board. I will be including this artwork in my next shop update

May I wish you a Merry Christmas, Happy Winter Days, A Bright Yule Season, all good Holidays. A bit of snow if you want it. Some quiet time to yourself, perhaps. Just the right amount of jolliness. Hope for the New Year. Thank you for reading here, for all your kind comments - and for liking this post so it might get read by someone new.

If you would like to support my writing and sharing you are welcome to buy me a coffee or you might like to become a paid subscriber. Thank you always.

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