In a child's world

Print, mounted

Illustration and wet palette

A beautiful book

In the time that has passed since my last blog post I became an aunt (my older sister had a beautiful baby boy), which has opened my heart in  wonderful and wondrous ways.

Lately, a big part of my work has been populated by illustrations and paintings for children, and what a happy dwelling place it is. Several prints of the festival artwork have found new homes in nurseries and children's bedrooms (but not exclusively; it is nice to see that adults want the picture for themselves, too), and I am planning to do more in that vein. After years of teaching mainly adults, a new opportunity has come up to teach children again. Children's books and illustrations are such a big passion of mine, it is lovely to now be so immersed in this world as an aunt, artist and teacher.

Just before I was offered the new teaching job, I had made the decision to free up some space in the summer (the fringe festival I worked for over the last five years has been put to rest and will be replaced by a new festival, which I chose not to be involved in). I have a two-person show in August and hopefully another exhibition in September, and it feels good to see the next few months shaping up in quite a different way from previous years. Not least because this summer will bring another nephew or niece!

On a much much smaller scale than the truly life-changing events of my sisters becoming mothers, my working life has been revolutionised by the purchase of a wet palette. It keeps acrylic paint wet and means I can snatch 20 minutes here and there working on a painting instead of spending 20 minutes cursing the tubes that are so hard to open, running them under hot water in order to be able to open them, trying to gauge which colours and how much of each I need, mixing the colours, sticking the palette in the fridge afterwards in the hope they'll stay wet until the following day, when inevitably I won't have time and end up with hardened paint yet again. Now all my colours are there for me to use straight away, and when I'm finished I just put the lid on the palette and rinse the brushes. Increased productivity lies ahead.

Now that the busiest time of the year is over I am looking forward to doing things that have been neglected because they were neither work-related nor crucial for survival. One of them is to bake something from the book in the photo above, which my sister gave us. These cakes include vegetables and alternatives for regular flour, and, while far from healthy, are certainly better for you than cakes made the traditional way.

Warmth and centre

"I have always lived in houses with a chimney, that's also very important to me. 

Always fires because it gives warmth and centre, it gives light. 

I always had animals, cats and dogs." 

(Juliette Binoche in a recent interview with The Sunday Times Magazine)

As the little house I have been renting for the past six-and-a-half years (where did the time go?) begins to show the signs of the extremes in the Irish weather (cracks, damp, failing to heat up properly), I have been tempted to think in terms of need and want (complete first-world problems) rather than gratitude for what I have. I still love this place, but when I came across the above, it brought into sharp focus that the structure she talks about is missing - I felt the absence of a fire, the absence of pets. Both will come when they are supposed to, I'm sure, or maybe they won't, and that'll be ok, too, if it has been ok for the last six years or so.

After the three weeks of the cosiness of blazing fires in my mom's house, I am finding it hard to adjust again. I have been walking around with a hot-water bottle tied to my body; we attempt to curl up under a blanket on my way-too-small hard couch, and when I am on my own, I retreat to bed early because it's the one warm place (after the addition of a hot water bottle). Then I think I am missing out on so much of life by going to bed so early, and I blame the cold. Yes, ALL the procrastinating and ALL the stress is due to living in a cold house.

And yet I love spending time at home. So I am shifting the focus back onto the good things, of which there are plenty. The flowers on the table (each time I am as touched by this gesture as on the first occasion, and I photograph every bunch) are my centre in the absence of a fireplace. Or the gigantic candle with the tall flame on my coffee table, a mini fire. And I am making small, mostly inexpensive changes, because change is good, and while I don't agree with the 'update your home decor every season and buy tons of new stuff!' mentality, I do believe in Feng Shui, and I have found that some of the objects and arrangements that have been the same for years feel stagnant or are actually disintegrating into a state beyond a welcome wabi-sabi aesthetic. New bedclothes (a generous gift), the aforementioned candle, thick towels, buying prints of artwork by friends and framing them.

Even just rotating my books has helped clear some mental clutter and the feeling of being stuck. And mending clothes, sewing on buttons, finally refilling my fountain pen, polishing the coffee jug - nothing earth-shatteringly important, but it makes me feel more grounded. It may all be yet another way of procrastinating (this is how I am spending the limited time I have at home during the busiest time of the year), but it is just what I need, a form of domesticity meditation.

Floating away...

'Float Away' - artwork for Múscailt 2015 | Acrylic on paper

...for this year's Múscailt Spring Arts Festival.

In the painting the land in the distance was inspired by what I often see of County Clare from my window: tiny rectangles of white houses on greenish grey. At the weekend we went down to Clare for our escape from the busyness of this time of year and ahead of Blue Monday, today, purported to be the most depressing day of the year. I was too busy with work and being cold to ponder the latter, and my mind was still filled with the right kind of Blue - the colour, in this case of expanses of water and a cloudless sky all day yesterday.

Dog and waves, Spanish Point

Jumbo's second adventure

Happy New Year everyone!

Excuse the bad light in the photos - January has kicked off with dull skies.

The second Jumbo adventure, Jumbo Discovers Giraffeland, is out now! Written by Lionel Gallagher, illustrated by me, and with design and layout by Conor Gallagher.

I posted a little preview recently. And this is the first story.

For more details, please contact me or visit my website. Thank you!

Illustration-land

 

 

Little Gurus by Olaf Hajek

This beautiful book (thank you, Sibylle and Timo!) is a feast for the eyes and a treat for lovers of yoga and art. I love the exuberance in Olaf Hajek's work. And to me these images are not only life-affirming, but also affirmation of the joy that creating such work must bring. I had been feeling a bit overwhelmed and stressed about various projects and commissions, but looking at these illustrations (as well as other artists' work, new discoveries and old favourites) has made me re-focus on the pleasure that is art-making.

After a week of knitting, reading, walking in the winter wonderland that appeared just after Christmas and letting ideas develop (or rather, resting enough for my brain to be able to come up with new ideas), I searched my mom's house for acrylic paints and spent this morning painting:

 Detail, work-in-progress

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Speaking of illustrations, the second Jumbo book is out now (more information on my website. Blog post to follow!)

Making - eat, bathe, wear

 

|  Eat: Christmas cookies, as per German tradition: very rustic-looking Elisenlebkuchen (my sister's are perfectly round and smooth) and Engelsaugen (angel eyes), and with the leftover egg whites I made coconut macaroons (not pictured).  The Lebkuchen have all the Christmas flavours - ground cloves, cinnamon, mixed peel and rum. I also made several loaves of hazelnut-studded Apfelbrot (recipes for that and the Lebkuchen to follow in time for next year's seasonal baking - I have been meaning to add a page with recipes here, for archiving purposes - the internet is chock-a-block with food blogs, so I'm sure the world isn't waiting anxiously for my contribution, but it will be nice to collect some here, as a back-up to my notebooks and folders).

|  Bathe: These bath truffles were easy and fun to make. I used six drops each of geranium and lavender essential oils and both rose and calendula petals. Due to the coconut oil, they create quite an oily bath, which some people don't like, but it means no need for moisturising. They were sitting on the kitchen counter, which confused visitors to my house, as they look edible (white chocolate and rose truffles sounds good). I love having baths with Epsom salts - they are a good way to absorb magnesium via the skin and have numerous healing properties.

|  Wear: I knitted this simple scarf for John a while back; unlike many other projects (where did this year go??) I managed to finish it in time for the colder weather. He knew exactly what he wanted; he picked the colour and requested the white strip. Sometimes I like being given instructions.

Making things has been an antidote to the stress of the last few weeks. Using my hands is so therapeutic, a way to get out of my head - the thoughts it stimulates are of a less frantic kind. I have prescribed myself daily doses of knitting for the holidays.

Goldfinch

I am finally reading The Goldfinch, which is serving as a reminder to always have an absorbing novel on the go, especially in periods of high anxiety, and reassurance that it is ok to take your time with projects (Tartt famously spent about a decade on each of her novels, though I would never compare the pitiful fruits of my labour with her output). It had been on my to-read list for a while, but the physical copy of the book came into my life as part of a chain of goldfinch-related occurrences that I would like to believe are more than mere coincidence.

The goldfinch - Fabritius's - has been a steady companion to my home life for years, gracing my pinboard ever since the day a friend gave me this exhibition brochure (other items on the board come and go, but the goldfinch is a constant, along with sketches and notes by my mom and sisters). I missed the exhibition and have never seen the painting in real life, but it is one of my favourite works of art. Always in my field of vision when I am working on the easel, the outline of the goldfinch inspired a painting of my own.

A few weeks ago, I was at my desk in my studio/office room when a goldfinch hit the window (I have ornaments hanging in the window, but unfortunately they weren't enough to deter birds). I ran outside, and it was on the ground, still breathing. I brought it indoors, hoping it would recover, but the poor thing died in my hands, which was very upsetting. I kept it in my house for another day or so and took photos to maybe paint it later, wanting to preserve its beauty somehow (I briefly considered taxidermy, but though I admire it from afar, I doubt I will ever attempt it), before we buried it in a compostable coffin, along with yellow flowers. [This window death was also the fate of a finch at a local artist's apartment a couple of years ago, and it was the trigger for an entire hauntingly beautiful exhibition.]

And then yesterday in class one of my students brought in a set of photos from a bird calendar, and of course there was a goldfinch among them (I realise that in itself is not extraordinary, it being a bird calendar. But the timing of the bird pictures appearing seems to be yet another "sign"), now repurposed as a bookmark.

Maybe none of this means anything, but it is in my nature to look out for patterns and repetition. I cannot even say what that elusive meaning might be. All I know is that I am very fond of this little bird that keeps appearing everywhere. And I don't want the book to end.