Lockdown 2 - Make, write, walk, repeat......

 

 

Forgive me if I sound a little flat. For flat is how it feels.

It is lockdown number 2, and I have run out of jobs that need doing that I clearly don't intend to do.

I realise now that the main goal for these few weeks is to get through them in a reasonable state of mental health.

 And to that aim I have three priorities

1. Make stuff
2. write stuff
3. walk

 

 Make stuff

 

I joined an on line art class; 'Where Drawing Meets Words' with The Royal Drawing School

 I wasn't sure what to expect, but the title felt manageable. 

 

Words and pictures, stories and illustration. 

 

I have long hoped to illustrate a childrens' story that I have written about a mountain, and this class seemed like a good step in the right direction.

The book 'Uncommon Genius' was recommended by our tutor as a guide to creativity; I ordered a second hand copy in 'GOOD' condition.

This is it. You can be the judge with regards the condition.

 

 

It tells me that creative people, amongst other things

• know where their talent lies and play to it
  
• make it shine
• stay loose
  
• are not afraid to fail
• need to know how to facilitate getting into their 'flow' state, where ideas are formed
  
• often travel
  
• have lots of projects on the go

All of these things less easy to achieve when locked down. 

 

 

We worked on the story of Little Red Riding Hood, making a storyboard as if for a book.

I had forgotten what a gruesome tale it is.

 

dead wolf in cardboard

 

 'Make a cardboard mock-up of one of the scenes, and then draw or paint from that' was the point at 

which I realised that I was not working within my 'talent zone'. 

I made a dead wolf, with stones in his belly. 

He is consigned to the bin.

I never did draw him. 

I did, however see how others in the class were able to make very realistic drawings and to visualise the lighting and shadows for their drawings. 

I am just not there yet....

I decided to make scenes from my mountain story instead. I was being kind to myself, and avoiding total failure..... putting sanity above risk....

I was happier playing with ink.  I made some very nice stones.....

Ink 'stone'

 

 

 My ink rain was a disaster. I blew ink across the paper with a hairdryer. It was a mess.

So I chopped it up, at which point it became something completely new.

 

My blown ink became snow scenes. 

I agree with the 'Uncommon Genius' book that every mistake has potential.

I am also reminded that working in an abstract way is my 'thing'.

 

So for now my story remains without pictures, but I have a direction of travel.

 

Write stuff

 

The writing element of the class was liberating.

Writing about a picture. 

Cutting out phrases from the writing. 

Turning these phrases into poems.

 

I chose to write about this painting by Victor Pasmore. We were asked to describe the scene and also repsond to questions posed by the tutor. Taking those written words and cutting them into phrases I formed a poem.

A Winter morning ( after Victor Pasmore “A winter morning” 1944)

Dawn. 

A paved garden.

Sun low on the horizon

warming the early morning sky

Tangled trees overhang a purple shadowed, dull green lawn.

Fallen leaves spill sideways onto the cold stone path.

Wind whistles in the whip-like branches

A hum of engines from the river beyond.

Indistinct grey-white objects hanging at the distant lawn’s edge appear misplaced. 

Sheets masquerading as headstones in the morning mist.

An upturned terracotta pot lying untidily in the corner wonders  

“why am I abandoned; 

almost invisible in this dark shadowed place?”

Birds on the clothes line and leafless woody stems perch patiently.

Waiting for worm time.

A balustrade enters, stage left

wondering who will pass this way today.

Later, when the warm sky has faded to steely grey

a man in a long tweed coat descends softly into the garden in brown laced boots,

causing the birds to fly away.

He passes silently through

the quiet

the ordinariness

the muted simplicity

of just another winters’ day.

   

****************

A lesson in observation, and ways to find words.

 

 

Walk

 

Which brings me to walking; one of the best ways that I know to find my state of flow, where ideas formulate and I can begin to create.

 

 

I walked in the winter morning light. 

 

seedheads

Stems on a winter morning

 

 I walked the streets picking up litter.

 

 

I walked on the beach picking up litter.

 

 

beach litter

stranded beach plant

 

I have walked more miles in the last month than in any other month this year.

 

The highlight of my walks was a murmuration of starlings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And where is my other half I hear you ask?

 

Well he is in trouble..... for leaving me alone in our bubble.....

 

 

Alone in a bubble

I am alone in a bubble

Other half’s in trouble

he’s left me on the shelf

all by myself

locked down

in Bromley town

while he’s on a plane

for ‘work’ (again)

it’s been so long

he’ll no doubt explain

Dubai, no less.

I must confess

I lack the will

to lie very still

on a posh sun lounger

in stifling heat

looking over my shoulder

for covid 

or corona

virus;

is it worse

here or there?

Do I even care?

Either way

I’m much better off

at home

alone

in this half empty bubble

Waiting for a needle

to release us

from this overrated story;

this year of purgatory.

Roll on 2021.

 

 

 

 

But I have got so much done while he has been away for just a few days.... 

 

I have nothing to do but make stuff, write stuff and walk......

 

 The art classes are over, but I am filled with new ideas. Christmas is coming and the gold paint is out.

 

 

 

 

 

I leave you with a poem/drawings based on a work 'Tremolo' by Agnes Martin, 

 

Agnes also liked a bit of gold paint, along with her pencils.

 

 

Agnes Martin| Tremolo| 1962

 

 

Tremolo booklet  (after Tremolo by Agnes Martin)

 

 

Tremolo   

(after ‘Tremolo’ by Agnes Martin 1962)

idea

ruler

pencil

mathematical calculation

 and a blank white sheet.

evenly spaced graphite journeys

with irregular endings

minor imperfections

unintended gradations

pencil lifting

border shifting

stop thinking.

a vision

of living

above the line

in happiness and love

___________________

________________________

I wonder how often she sharpened her pencil?

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wonder how often she sharpened her pencil?

 

Not long until we are unlocked.

Until then I'll keep walking.....

 

 

 

thinking about rain and making books as artist in residence at createspace wales

hand made books 

I am returned from Wales.

Many people thought it was a foolish decision to set foot into the country where 'it always rains....'.

I, however, could think of nothing better than two weeks in the countryside, beside the west wales coast, as an artist in residence at Createspace Wales.

If it rained, I would be an artist. If the sun came out, I would go out for a walk with my camera.

I arrived in the land of Ceridigion ( Cardiganshire) and was struck by the many signs in a foreign language. So many consonants, and so few vowels. I wondered what Dim Parcio meant ( no parking- it transpired-  dim if you do.....)


I settled into my palatial studio

createspace wales

Set my typewriter on my dining table

Olympia Splendid typewriter

And went out to look for some rain.

Cardigan, Wales

How wrong all those folk were. How little it rained.


What magnificent cliff top walks I had.

What wild moorland and ancient woodlands I explored.

Coed ty Canol

Ancient oaks at Coed ty Canol

And because of all the pessimists that I encountered before I left home, I kept on thinking about rain.

I found that the Welsh have many words for rain

welsh words for rain

Such beautiful words. So unpronounceable to one ignorant of the language.

Pistyllio - fountain rain.

What does that look like?

raindrops of ink

I played with book structures and inks.

I had no printer , so no choice but to make work without photographs. My choice.



I made a fish bone structure from Hedi Kyle's book The Art of the Fold.

fishbone book structure

I  added typewritten rain words.

and a rain splattered cover

glaw - rain book

I came across a reference to ink and bleach art.

I became and ink and bleach art student, experimenting with different papers and wetness of my inks.

ink and bleach experiments

 I made some ink and bleach rain books.

pistyllio - fountain rain- ink and bleach

ink and bleach on somerset satin 300gsm paper

I made books every day. No prevarication allowed.

My rule for the residency.

crown structure book made with greaseproof paper

And sometimes I got stuck for ideas, so made books about sheep and how to overcome creative block.

the grass is always greener...... 

It turns out that the best cure for creative block is a walk up a windy hill with my camera.

where the wind blows © Caroline Fraser 2020

You will be wondering what I ate in Wales.... it being so remote, and there being no proper shops.

I ate very healthy food from the local superstore.

what I ate

All plastic free.....



Nothing made me happier than seeing startlings mumurating in local fields and on Aberystwyth pier at dusk.

local starlings

Aberystwyth starlings at dusk

When I wasn't thinking about rain words I thought about lichen words. I learned a lot about lichens; there are a significant number of endangered species on the Lichen Red Data List for wales . 

Therein lies a future project.

Who could not fall in love with a lichen named  Strigula Stigmatella var stigmatella

Lichens on rocks. Lichens on trees. I find them very appealing. I see maps and imaginary creatures.

A lady dancing with a duck....

lady dancing with duck

A shy smile....

shy smile lichen

At the end of two weeks I had a collection of small books.

And quite a lot of sticks.

books made at Createspace wales

It is suprising how much can be achieved in the right circumstances.

I am incredibly grateful to the artist Rose Sanderson for allowing me the opportunity to stay at her beautiful residency.

 One day I hope to return.

 For now I need to get back to mopping up the mess from all the suburban rain.......

the ancient trees at Coed ty Canol