Studio Notes no. 61

fifteen minute pages, acorns and cats

It’s a dark, wet October day and I am looking out at all the rose hips with their bright raindrops. I am also looking at a wonderful deep pink leafed plant that was a gift from a dear friend. It is a plant called Iresine and is growing in a soup can, because my friend grows cuttings in anything useful. The plant is on my windowsill for now, at least. It is a beauty and cheers up the room on this dull day.

It will not surprise you to know that I have had to slow down a bit. My broken foot slows me down physically but I am also quite tired from the healing process and must be gentle. But I know that keeping quietly busy is good medicine for me and there are plenty of things I can do, fortunately, with my foot propped up. 

photo: another handful of acorns, both big and small

And so I continue on making acorns. I love to stitch and knit these. They are made from my own plant dyed materials and have a simple, tactile feel. I don’t think I want to do too much embroidery on them - though a few will get some extra embellishments. I think I want to make a garland (or many) and will be offering in little handfuls. I also might offer as individual ‘lucky dip’ acorns. We shall see…. The first little gathering will be in my shop this coming Wednesday.

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photo: fifteen minute pages in my sketchbook - candle - the first pages in this series lighting the way…..

Sketchbooks have always been my very personal space, my play space, my sanctuary and my long-time joy. They are so important to me, and I have said this before here many times. What matters is that I can be as free and playful as I need to be, or I can simply go off on a tangent with ideas, or revisit old ideas. Or simply turn a page without an idea in my feathery brain and just start making marks. It’s about process, yes, but also about letting go and remembering, returning and revisiting, shedding light on both new and old ideas. 

photo: fifteen minute sketchbook pages - crow - this was a quick one, probably just ten minutes but I told myself: stop now.

I have recently begun a new sketchbook with a particular work ethic in mind - that is: just spend fifteen minutes on a spread of pages. Sit and make pages within that time frame. To just turn up and give yourself fifteen minutes - maybe that feels like a bit of pressure, or too much freedom? But to me, it is an invitation to just get on with the process and to not be anxious about it. 

To keep some kind of focus, I am working with a  limited palette of gouache paints. I’ve also found myself adding scraps of paper from an old novel and other papers, to lend further interest. I’ve been looking back at past sketchbooks and want to revisit some of that early, childlike freedom, the naive style of someone who is just finding herself. Well, I am always rediscovering who or what it is that might appear in my sketchbooks.

photo: fifteen minute sketchbook pages - sisters

These pages are lovely and raw, playful and sombre and just so. They are just themselves. I will continue on with them through this month and possibly beyond. So, this is just the start and I will share more with you over the weeks ahead. 

If you would like to join me in working fifteen minute pages then please do. Just do it for yourself and I hope you enjoy the process as much as I am enjoying it so far.

photo: fifteen minute sketchbook pages - memory and chairs

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A few small stories from this week

I surprise a big ginger cat. It’s easily done. I simply appear by the window and somehow they know they are being watched. It looks back at the house then turns to sniff the earth and starts to dig. As soon as I tap the window it darts away. There are more cats coming into the garden lately, new cats, but Big Ginger is familiar to me. This past summer, with the back door open, Big Ginger regularly attempted to have a look inside the kitchen and beyond. I would have welcomed the visitor but it was only ever going to come inside without me purring at it. The truth is, I scare cats. I love cats but they think I am a slightly crazy human. Cats are wise. 

Years ago, I once found a strange cat sleeping on my bed. I did not disturb it for hours and then it was getting dark. So, anxiously, I went back to the bed and gave the cat the most gentle prod and realised it was actually not a cat but a small toy wrapped in a towel, something one of my children had left in place. I could not quite understand how I had spent the past several hours worrying over this stranger-cat, to the point that I had even considered what I might feed it, should it come down the stairs hungry. I had, it seemed, created a whole scenario and relationship that was never going to be. A cat would be wiser.

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A box arrives. It is covered with colourful postage stamps that were issued some time ago but are still valid to use. I marvel at the attractive box, considering the array of stamps, and am surprised by how quickly it arrived. The box waits. I know that I want to open it, because I am pretty sure there are nice things inside and it is a wonderful thing to receive from a kind friend. Still, I make myself wait. I complete my work and chores for the day. I hobble about. Eventually I find something to open the box and dive in. There are layers of goodies. I feel so humbled and grateful. Amongst the small gifts are little bundles of vintage trim and lace. I’ve been looking for something like this for a while now, but local markets and antique stalls have not offered quite the right thing. This will be used for future making projects, perhaps the trim on a doll’s skirt.

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I’m knitting another owl. I know, I know, I keep knitting owls. It’s just a thing I need to do. To balance the acorns. Or to become part of the acorn scene?

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