Conversation From The Sahara

Journal - November 6th
It’s strange to think that the world now knows who’s been elected as the next President of the USA – the news is out there, everywhere! But here, surrounded by a vast ocean of sand and only our two Berber guides, we know nothing!
 
And the desert, in all its majesty, doesn’t give a hoot. How wonderful. In fact, nothing ‘out there’ seems to matter while here. The Trumps of this world will come and go…
And the mountains in the far distance will remain, eternal. 
And the Sahara will go on expanding, as the world continues to heat up. 
And there will be wars and the threat of wars, and the desert will endure forever, to the end. And for human kind it will be a place of extremity, a place where the soul is humbled, a place of intrigue and wonder. 

Journal - November 8th
Last night was one of those endurance tests, which requires you to dig deeper than you wanted to. We were like fretful sardines – too hot, then too chilly, aching from head to toe and longing to be reunited with pillows. At several points in the night, we scrambled out of our one-man-woman tent for a nature-call, and gazed with dumb-exhaustion up at the exquisite heavens and the clear shape of the milky way, and felt very small. 
At around 7am we emerged out onto the cool sand, and while Trevor climbed to the top of a nearby dune, I rolled out our bed-blanket and did some sleepy yoga moves, while the sun rose over the rim of the earth. It was true Sun Salutations, and it was sublime!
 
Then we packed our tiny rucksacks, ate an orange and some dried bread and watched while Yunus and Issmail dismantled the cooking tent and loaded up our 4 camels with every single bit of equipment. With tired eyes we observed how kindly they did this, even though their animals were a tad tetchy at the thought of the long, burdened, 3-hour walk back to base camp and water. 
Repeatedly, over these 3 immersive desert-days we’d said to each other, “If it wasn’t for this tree we would have died”. We were referring to the tree, our tree, that we had sheltered under each day. The place where we sat all day; sitting, resting, lying, sheltering, on our little foam mattresses. It was the only tree we noticed the entire trip. And we had learnt to be SO thankful for that tree and for those two little mattresses and we became SO aware of what mattered most and the small things that made all the difference. We could live without running water or a toilet, but we couldn’t have survived without our precious tree or bottled water, or clothing to cover us from head to toe, to keep us from being tormented by flies or fried in the heat. 

The walk back under the midday sun, was challenging. I walked between the two groups of camels and tried to stay in the slight shadow they cast. I walked close to the mighty beasts and sensed their acceptance and inhaled their measured rhythmical stride, which was comforting and almost hypnotic.  
 
In her book, Untamed, Glennon Doyle says, ‘We can do hard things’….and we can. We can do so much more than we realise we can. We are built to survive. We are strong. And we know how to get through the challenges of life. 
 
We can breathe courage into our limbs, one step at a time.
 
On that long walk, on a couple of occasions the camels got skippy and reared up and brayed loudly, but the Berbers didn’t shy away, neither did they hit them, or yell. They made confident clicking sounds in camel language and went closer, with calming movements and reassuring gestures. One camel had his rope shortened and his neck pulled down for a while to steady him…. but then it was time to crack on, and we moved off to our destination. 
 
The desert slows you down. Try living at your normal pace here and you’ll soon see what happens. It’s impossible. From afar we watched Issmail and Yunus caring for us – making sure we stayed alive. They worked so hard, but then they rested. And they rested for long periods of time, doing nothing. They were not on their phones, not writing emails or blogs, not involved with social media, not racing here or there…..they were just RESTING!!! They just sank down into their skins; gazing out across the sand-dunes, sleeping, or just BEING.
 
Recovering after doing hard things. 
 
When we reached the base camp, we rested there for a day before the long drive back over the Atlas Mountains, towards Marrakesh and the hustle and bustle of that vibrant city. 
On the last night at the basecamp, after food, Yunus came and sat with us, squatting in the darkness and we exchanged a few words. It was a limited conversation, but I remember these three rich messages…. 

"When we wake in the morning, we say,
Thank you for the good "

and

“God is looking for us”

and,

“When we go, we leave it all behind…we take nothing”
 

Priceless!
Thank you

It’s Your Turn

What’s life like for you right now? Rollercoaster ride without a safety bar? If you’re in pants-on-fire mode, you’ll definitely not be reading this post. So maybe you’re somewhere more chilled-out, managing to keep your balance and hoping to stay there. 
 
I’ve spent the past 3 days, in ‘coasting’ mode (not the friend of a hot mug…the other kind). I know I’m in that mode because I can feel a floating, reflective sensation in my body, like I’m waiting for the phone to ring, or something unexpected to happen, or a word from the universe. It’s not that I’m unfocussed, but more standing with arms open wide…. waiting!
 
Then, yesterday, whilst waiting and drinking coffee in Trevor’s study, I noticed a book trying to bungy-jump out from its snug position in the bookcase onto the floor. It naturally caught my eye and instantly I was reunited with a book that I’d delighted in almost 6 years ago 
(see below). 
 
I grabbed the book and dived back in…
 
Godin says his book is all about grabbing opportunities in life. Not expecting to get things right, or to experience a blissful ride to success, but building courage muscles by continuing to step up and take our turn, because, he says, it’s always our turn.
 
“If you’re thirsty enough, the world is ready for you, more than ever before” (inside cover)
 
“Look for opportunity…it’s EVERYWHERE…look to see where you can make a difference. It’s your turn to…speak up, stand up, build a following, make a product, create, make a connection, ask questions, learn a new skill, write or help others…” 
 
OK, can I just drop in at this moment and add that books like this do two things to me. They thrill me and scare me at the same time. My propensity for self-doubt and playing it safe is pretty high, but I’m also up for being challenged and secretly want to be hoofed out of my moss-lined cave. 
 
I took these things away with me into my week...

• Show up on a regular basis to whatever your thing is – develop a habit

• Do something that matters – life is too short not to

• Stay in the game - even when things don’t work out 

This week a little hoofing happened when I took some of my art work to London to hang in a gallery, a Late Summer Exhibition at Henarch Gallery, in Spitalfields (the old fish and meat market area of London). A wee encouragement for me to keep grabbing opportunities. It was then followed up by finding the powerful messages in Seth Godin’s book, which proved to be seriously empowering.
 
Do buy yourself a copy and when you’ve read every single page and taken your own personal notes, pass it on to a friend or family member. We need each other more than ever. 
Love J x

Respect What Comes

Why is it so hard to respect and welcome what we create?
 
Whilst doom scrolling on Instagram this week, I came across a fabulous little clip of 25 small people (ages about 6 years), sitting in a large circle in a leafy wood. They all had drawing boards and crayons and were all completely engrossed. Each child utterly lost in what they were doing, blissfully transported into a moment of pure creativity. No chatter, no commentary, no irritation and no calls to be somewhere else, just a sense of calm reigned. I had no idea what their project or task was, it almost didn’t matter. What moved my heart was the sight of these tiny humans focused intently, with every fibre of their being. 
 
I watch my grandchildren doing it too. They seem to literally dive into a place of creative contentment, so effortlessly and stay there, as if in a healing trance. Have you ever stopped to observe a child painting and have felt yourself quietly smile as you watch the cutest picture appears. Then later you return and see that it’s been reworked into a muddy puddle and you struggle to hide your disappointment, but the child has already moved on to play somewhere else. Children generally welcome whatever they make, without judgement, angst or an agenda. It doesn’t seem to be about the end product so much as the making-process itself.
 
I’m back from a month in Bali and I’m looking at what I created. Some of it feels like me and some have taken me by surprise. I’ve looked and thought, ‘who did that?’ and ‘where did that come from?’. I have even pondered why my work/style has swung away in a new direction and I’ve wondered, ‘who’s in charge here?’ (lol).
 
The truth is that our souls have an inner knowing that longs to be allowed to express itself freely. Our job is to give it the space and kindness to come forth and bound into being (or creep slowly), whatever. 
 
The muddy-puddle painting may not get selected for a position on the fridge door, but what it brought it into being may have involved a priceless creative process. 
 
Pretty art isn’t the goal, it’s the doing that truly matters. 
 
Love Jane

ps And...will you do me a favour and let me know if you find these blogs helpful in any way. Your feedback would be hugely appreciated. 

A Letter From Love

These have been heavy days for many of us this January – dark, cold and oppressive. We have been watching the growing turbulence and horrors in the world order and carrying this sense of deep dis-ease which has left many of us feeling strangely off balance and needing greater nurturing this month. 
 
I’ve observed my use of darker paint colours, juxtaposed alongside extremes of warm and tender hues; my subconscious forcing these extremes to exist together. 
 
Staying in a place of hope and inner balance will require real focus and a constant checking-in with ourselves, to monitor how we’re doing and what we need in order to stay buoyant and engaged with the here and now, not just hiding under the duvet. 

Recently I’ve been using a practice that’s been massively helpful and I can honestly say that it’s been a wonderful guard-rail since Christmas. It’s a daily practice that the author, Liz Gilbert, has been doing for 25 years and she calls it, Letters from Love. Each day Liz asks LOVE, “What would you have me know today?” And then she writes a reply to herself, from LOVE. 
 
So, today I’m going to share my letter from love, written a few days ago. This is what love had to say to me…
 
“My tender one, I see how sensitive you are to the seasons. This winter has closed you down and pulled you deep into yourself. 
That’s ok. 
We all have periods like this. You are Wintering – a time of reflection and introversion.
Look at what nature is doing, it’s digging deep, holding steady and staying resilient. You do the same!
January can’t be like June or September. Take it for what it is, and next month too. 
They are both ‘cruel’ months and they need managing and leaning into. Relax. Breath more mindfully. Accept. Believe in a bigger story that’s being prepared.
And drink hot chocolate, make delicious stews, read by the fire in the evening, dream (it’s ok to dream big), play table tennis, paint, walk and allow a fresh kind of peace to find you.
Listen, everyone is going through their own version of this heavy time. Use it to speak loving kindness into your soul. 
And find ways to laugh more and discover beauty in hidden places.
And remember, I am with you. 
Love from LOVE”
 

All art comes from love – love of doing something…
It’s love that drives us on against the current

Jerry Saltz

Love Jane x

PS I’m really enjoying reading
Wintering - The power of rest and retreat in difficult times
by Katherine May

I Choose To Believe…..

As a teenager I would lie awake at night, trying to conjure up the mental imagination to invite my guardian-angel to appear. I was enchanted with the idea of having my own exquisite, celestial being, whose primary job it was to take care of me. I felt no fear, just a sense that this was my birth-right.  

I had too much of a wild imagination and with it, a family label of being a day-dreamer, and in those days that was something you kept quiet about.

William Blake said, “The imagination is not a state: it is the human existence itself” 

Angels still fascinate me. Just the thought of them gives me a comforting feeling. As I walk to my studio each day and stop to lift the barn-latch right by the entrance, I’m greeted with a beautiful charcoal picture of an angel, made by the Oxford based artist Tim Steward. It was a gift from him in 2012 and I will treasure it forever.

My time of self-reflection today has brought me to a place where I can see my need (a heart-bursting, eye-prickling, soul-longing need), to know that LOVE (or the angels) are with us always. That we are not alone in all the confusion and anxiety-inducing madness that we will see and possibly experience this year.

T.S.Elliot, in his poem The Four Quartets, urges us to ‘be still’ and ‘wait’, not for angels, not for governments to do the right thing, not for the perfect relationship, or a more prosperous life-style, but for our own inner wisdom to find us and for a belief in a death and re-birth in all things.

And what does that mean for me as an artist?

Ha-ha, yes, I thought you might ask! So, let’s bring all this back to the thing that I feel most passionately about. Creativity…. and our ability to heal ourselves through the process of making things that are uniquely US SHAPED.

I choose to believe in our ability to make and create remarkable things, just because we can.

I believe in the power of imagination, intuition and serendipitous happenings (that sometimes feels of the Divine), to excite and thrill our souls and make life meaningful.

And, I believe in our ability to make and maintain deep and beautiful connections with each other, that gives us the wings to change our bit of the world.  

Shalom

J x

Tell Tale Signs

Where next?
It’s blowing a holy gale outside and in the early morning gloom I watch birds being scuffed like confetti over giant ash trees across the road. I say a prayer for them – the trees I mean. They’re old and I know this beating will challenge their inner might. 
“Be brave…& support each other”, I mutter, as I sip my Chai. 
 
Where next, is on my mind right now. It’s not just because the year is ending, I feel sure there’s a deeper rumbling. I sense something new is lurking, in my blind spot maybe? It wants my attention, but I can’t see it yet. 
 
Yesterday, in my journal I wrote, ‘I know there’s something slowly boiling within me. Change is coming’. And as I sit with this unformed shape, I know it already has energy and must not be ignored. Even to write, ‘it must not be ignored’, evokes a giddy-rush within. 
 
I remembered that David Hockney said, “I’m greedy for an exciting life”. He then clarified that excitement came in the form of raindrops falling on puddles and the simple joys of nature. How wonderful to boldly say that you’re ‘greedy’ for the wonderland of life. Was he saying, ‘I want to be open to so much more?’ 
 
Sensing a transition in the air I’m asking myself what is it that will help me to discover what the tell tale signs will be. How will they reveal themselves and how do I even know what I’m looking for? And, just to be clear, I don’t believe that there’s only one right path. But I’m greedy to know what lies ahead and what possibilities await.

The clues for the next steps will actually be with me right now, hidden in the lining of my everyday life. My challenge is to spot those clues and the tender hints that are trying to signpost and call to my soul. 
 
This morning I’ve decided on 3 things that I’m going to do, as I become watchful for these signs and I’m hoping they can bring me some clarity for the coming days. 
 

1. Before the year is out, I’m planning on looking through my art journals that I’ve kept every day this year, and pick out the few pieces that truly resonate with me. I’m going to use my emotional barometer to see which pieces of art really make my soul respond viscerally. Then take some time to ask myself, ‘What’s going on here?’ And to get curious about what gives me joy.

2. I will ask myself, ‘What don’t I need any more?’ and ‘How can I simplify my life?’ What makes me feel heavy?’ and ‘What’s not working?’ 

3. I am going to welcome in my day-dreaming and look to see what desires are waiting there, refusing to leave. What do I still long for? What never goes away? Where do I feel an itch, a pull, or constantly entertain reoccurring thoughts? By giving these desires and longings validation, it gives them a voice and real worth and it’s a way of honouring my heart’s compass. 

 
So, let’s stay strong, let’s be brave and support each other more and more as we move across our own personal thresholds in 2024.
 
Thank you everyone for your love and support. 
I’m stronger because of YOU
Shalom x

I’m Waiting For A Meeting With God

“I’m waiting for a meeting with God”, I tell him. 
There’s a short silence, then he says, “I think you should put down your paintbrush, take some paper and write about it”. 
We both smile and I feel a wave of relief. I couldn’t wait any more, and I knew that stopping would also mean a break for tea! 
 
I had been re-working a particular piece for two days. I’d felt a cool ambivalence with this painting from the day I thought it might be finished, almost 18 months ago. I just hoped we’d work it out and become friends, but I knew in my heart that I’d not worked it through to a comfortable ending. The plain truth was that we weren’t at ease with each other, so something had to happen, a re-working would have to occur at some point and that moment had come.
 
And now I was all-in, up to my armpits in pink and orange paint and gently sweating from the creative tension of holding focus. I had no idea where I was going, but we’d definitely left Kansas and were heading… who knows where. I knew the journey would take hours, days or maybe weeks (I never ask, it seems rude to). All I knew was that I wanted this born-again painting to have angel’s wings and be bursting with vibrant energy and more than a hint of emotional fireworks. 
 
And this would need my heart and soul to be totally on board, committed to the hilt, and ready to stay the course. Right now, the painting is like a podgy caterpillar with a few interesting markings, but in time I’ll be cheering it on to become the butterfly it has the potential to be. 
 
The path is simple… I keep working until the piece finally arrives and we both agree that something has happened, that we can’t quite explain. Like a meeting with God that you have no words for, just a deep knowing, completeness and peace. I just have to press on through the centre of my heart and out the other side, as gently and courageously as I can. 
 
Making abstract art has a personal, specific urgency, that keeps me fuelled and creating, and exploring playfully, day by day. 
 
Love
Jane x
 

Quitting

Why do artists quit? ...and come on, there are plenty of reasons to quit, let’s face it. 

With an increasing rumble of doom and despair amongst artists about how to promote work, get visibility and avoid the threats of our work being digitalised by strangers or cloned (NFTs and Crypto Art), it's not difficult to imagine why some would just decide to check out and be done with this tortuous profession. 

While I was at my last exhibition in beach-side-Aldeburgh, a sweet couple came in to see how I was doing on sales. They’d rented the gallery the previous week (both artists) and had sold nothing…. the whole week!!! I listened to their tale and my heart did a belly flop. “You are kidding me”, I wanted to blurt out. Fifty hours manning this converted horse stables and you didn’t even make enough to dine out on a fish and chip feast? (Aldeburgh has the best fish and chips in Suffolk, in my opinion). 

I couldn’t lift my sand-bagged emotions off the floor. They left downhearted, but not totally crushed. “We’re thinking about booking again in 2025…. If we can be sure of better sales”. 

“You poor darlings”, I wanted to say, “Save your money and take yourselves on a decent holiday, you look like thou need it. This is a shitty business, give yourselves a break” And there we have it… Take A Break. 

‘Artist’s quit when they convince themselves that their next effort is already doomed to fail. And artists quit when they lose the destination of their work -  the place their work belongs’ *

Quitting happens when vision is lost. Quitting happens once; it means not starting again. 

But quitting is not the same as stopping. We stop from time to time, it's essential. Then, when we have re-grouped, we start again. 

The challenges ahead for artists are real and growing by the day, but this is the picture of the times we live in, which could tempt us all into despair - the climate chaos, migrants drowning in the English Channel and a serious lack of leadership in our world….  

But quitting can’t be an option. 

‘Those who challenge their fears, continue. Those who don’t, quit’ *

And each step in the art making process puts that issue to the test. So, let’s keep our visions alive (however loosely stacked together), let’s encourage one another daily, make peace with uncertainty and take as many breaks as we need on the road to our tomorrows.  

Jane x

*Art and Fear by Bayley and Orland
 

It Doesn’t Have To Make Sense

“Be still and let me teach you”, I heard.
 

I put my old painting shirt on and sat down to write. My feet were cold and I wanted a mug of tea, but the shirt felt familiar and kind of comforting. 
 
I’m in Lucca, Italy, taking a break and making time to refill my tanks. The apartment has brick floors and giant beamed-ceilings, riddled with beetle-rot and painted white. 
 
I’m sure I expect too much from holidays. I never stop to let them know beforehand what I’m wanting or needing. 
 
I know I want the buzz and energy of a different culture, but also the peace and quiet of nothingness and to be left alone to decompress and to find a way to think new thoughts. 
I want to be carried away in crazy new plans, but then hesitate about how that will integrate with my life back home. 
I reach into the magic and mystery of somewhere new, that thrills my senses, while still staying tethered to my old life. 
 
But hey, we’re all such complex beings, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who carries a knapsack of emotions when I eventually arrive at my holiday destination. Holidays are cauldrons for awakening and the words, ‘Let me teach you’, came wafting into my mind one wet morning and made me smile. 
 
“Yes, sure”, I whisper back, “I’m here”
 
This ancient city, with thousands of years of hidden history in its dust and debris, is a mind-boggling muddle and patchwork of buildings, stretching back through the ages. Nothing is straight and everything is a response to something that fell apart and needed repairing. Ramparts and fortifications, gateways and towers, tunnels and the most incredible medieval city walls. Alleyways like deep ravines and grand, breath-taking architecture everywhere…..this city never fails to thrill and delight. 
 
Complexity is the name of the game. And I realised that it’s complexity that makes this place a never-ending exploration of wonder, that sparks the imagination at every turn. Nothing stands alone, everything props up whatever is on either side; they all depend on each other. The old and new rub shoulders together; a 12th century stonewall labyrinth, sits beside a 20th century carved door, Roman remains lie buried 9 metres beneath relatively modern 16th century flagstones.  
 
Allowing life to be complex and messy isn’t what I’d choose, but oh so slowly, I can see that it’s where the richness lies. And the alchemy can only work when the grit and the gold swim together. 
 
Last evening, I tried to write a few intentions for my art life, as I sense a new chapter might be on the horizon. I wrote…
 
I want to hang out with wilder work, getting bolder and letting go more…. pushing my work to unknown places…and 
I want to make more time to ‘do nothing’ and learn to be still and listen to what I love and what gives me joy, as this will give the clues for future work.
 
And finally, 
I want to trust the complex and messy as part of the mix and not try to control events, opening the journey to a bigger, ’What if…’

From Hare to Here 2018-2023

In early 2017, inspired by my wonderful artist friend and neighbour, Tim Steward, I’d launched into a love affair with soft oil pastels. I worked on huge sheets of lush paper (“Always use good paper”, Tim told me), which I clipped onto a makeshift drawing board and balanced on the cooker in the kitchen. Then, in the Autumn, I progressed to creating art work in our tiny spare bedroom, which became my art room. It felt wonderful not having to clean up sticky pastel debris any more. It was a big step forward.

 
One evening, working late, I felt an inner itch to add another dimension to my work. I had just started a new piece and found my gaze falling on a pile of magazines on the floor. I flicked through and then started tearing out bits of paper that caught my eye. The hours passed and my confidence grew. I added more and more papers, including newspaper and even a table napkin to create what you see below. 

I found the whole experience intriguing. I remember feeling such freedom as I tore and glued down unlikely patterned combinations and saw interesting partnerships appear before my eyes. I’d got the collaging bug! 
 
Those first art pieces felt free and light and very experimental and brought me so much joy. Later I progressed to doing whole landscapes purely with paper and then in 2018-2019 my fascination with hares appeared, when we moved to Suffolk. Pictures often contain up to 600 pieces of paper. It never ceased to delight and fascinate me how my brain made decisions about what would make a good partnership on the page.

In 2020, I started teaching and encouraging others to use collage as a daily practice, either to reduce stress or to strengthen imagination and intuition and as a way to enter a flow-state for creativity. 
 
During the Covid years I sensed that I was entering another transition. Simply creating a picture totally out of paper didn’t do it for me anymore. I needed to include the richness and vitality of acrylic paint. As I moved to using this medium it seemed a natural step to include and integrate collage into my work. 
 
Slowly and surely, I developed a deep interest in abstraction and observed my practice focusing on design and value, colour and texture.  I slipped away from pictures of regal hare’s and views across snowy landscapes, curated from paper scraps and I started making art that was strongly abstract in style. This has been a thrilling discovery and feels authentically in tune with my creative voice. 

 
The challenge of creating abstract art is equally as intriguing as discovering a piece of paper of a tartan slipper that fits perfectly to suggest a shadow on a hare’s hind leg…BUT for now I’m taking a deep dive into my abstract work and instead intend to combine collage papers into my pictures when it feels appropriate. And sometimes you see them, but mostly you won’t. They just become a part of the warp and weft of my finished pieces….in which I’m choosing colours and shapes and mark making from my heart. 

J x

Lost in Ibiza

We had flippers and snorkels in the boot along with other happy beach kit and were headed for another glorious Ibiza cove for the day (we’d been discovering a new sandy haven each day of the holiday so far). Then suddenly we spotted a road sign supported by a jolly looking metal robot. The sign read, LOST Artist Studios. This was too irresistible to ignore. So we did a rapid U-turn and shot up the gravel track, through a tree and sculpture park area, towards a large building that was obviously the art gallery and studio. Above the door, in playful lettering, it simply said…LOST

Was it posing a question for all who entered? It felt immediately personal and put me at my ease. Who was this person who had created all these strange and wonderful sculptures and had no qualms about calling himself a lost artist. I felt connected to the vibe and at home.

We entered the warehouse space and found ourselves being greeted warmly by the owner, Mr Lost himself, Christopher Stone. He stood amidst his Aladdin’s cave of grand and exciting art and sculptures. It was a total WOW moment for me; rooms of thrilling, vibrant and eclectic work to stimulate the senses and awaken the soul.

What followed was an utterly delightful 3 hours with Chris. Originally from the east end of London, a joiner by trade, a London cabby for some years and through a series of fascinating twists and turns of fate and strange happenings, wound up in Ibiza to continue his creative destiny.

Enthralled by Chris’s rich work, I felt my heart bubble with joy as I fell in love with his sphynx like sculptures and Picasso style paintings. In fact, I felt like I was with the reincarnation of the great master himself.

Some experiences leave deep impressions and lasting imprints and this was definitely one such event for me, with life lessons to take away.

I was thrilled that we had allowed ourselves to be diverted, to be distracted and curious. That we had taken the risk to explore rather than shooting past, focused on a set plan.

I was so thankful that Chris had allowed himself to open to a new relationship with us and he was so generous with his time. He gave us his full self and the alchemy of rich connection.

I entered the sanctuary of Chris’s cathedral feeling lost myself and was blessed with the beauty and strength of his work, the energy of his creativity and the holy communion of love and friendship. It’s a day that will feed and sustain me for a long time to come.

Thank you Chris x

From Marathon To Park-run

I confess that social media has me firmly in its claws, or is it soft seductive paws? I’m drawn in to clips of hysterical dogs, beautiful people making incredible art, shots of extreme daring feats and the latest ‘must learn’ dance. I’m mesmerized by it all, but I’m also feeling a creeping sense of SME (Social Media Exhaustion).
 
I’m like someone who has inadvertently been signed up for a marathon race. I have arrived late and I’m in the last cohort, in a pen a mile back from the start line.  The race has actually started, but I’m just walking with a great throng of others, with little hope of breaking into a trot for quite a while. I’m ill-equipped for the social media epic challenge that lies ahead. 
I look down at my feet, but there’s no sign of designer footwear and my throat is already dry and wonder, ‘Will I make it?’  And then I realise I don’t even know the route or how long it will take me.
 
We are all drawn to the race (except for the few brave souls who have exited the social media madness), and now we must decide how we will participate; what will we share with the world, what story will we shape and what voice will we use?
 
As an artist I’m drawn to the platform of Instagram, like millions of others. It offers me a delicious abundance of inspirational art 24/7 and there are times, late at night, when I drive my husband mad with the words, “Gosh, just look at this artists work!!”  And this is mingled in with a ton of the usual distractions of hysterical animals and their party tricks - all the stuff we love to linger on.
 
It’s hard not to become binge-consumers with little time to watch a bee dipping in and out of a foxglove, being still, just watching, without having to capture it and upload it to SM in 30 seconds.
 
As an artist I watch my own tightness around social media and wonder where it will lead.  Should I continue to be in this frantic race? How much time should I spend posting, responding and staying connected to followers etc? Do I stay in the race or dip out and regain all those wasted hours?
 
This morning I was reading an article about an up-and-coming exhibition at the RA, featuring the work of artist Milton Avery, the American Abstract Expressionist (1885-1965). He was said to be ‘a quiet man’, who would rather paint than talk and would often go a few days without saying a word. “Why talk when you can paint”, he would say. 
 
He didn’t have to make choices regarding social media, but he did choose how to spend the precious hours of each day of his life.
 
We all need solitude and silence. Are we getting enough? It is in the stillness that we reconnect with ourselves and re-discover what we truly love and hold dear.
 
I’m a natural introvert, but I’m hopelessly addicted to activity. It doesn’t matter what, I just need to feel I’m getting stuff done. But busyness doesn’t nourish my soul. Busyness keeps me disconnected from what gives me joy. Busyness burns up my creative juices, because busyness keeps me in my thinking brain.
 
When my creative right brain wants to explore the desires of my heart, my left-brain rushes in and states, with authority, ‘enough of that nonsense, there isn’t time’.
 
Yet we make time for the trivial and to gaze voyeuristically at others, while we run on fumes and feeling out of control.
 
When I know how to create authentic feelings of joy (in life and art), then I’m back in control. So, I need to know what lights me up, what gives me joy and what redresses my inner balance.
 
In my art practice I know it means staying curious and playful. Keeping my internal thinking focused and being very present to what is going on.
 
But all this goes out the window if I don’t have enough stillness and I refuse to make an investment in solitude, away from the noise and fuzziness of social media. 
 
I’m not ready to quit social media, but I think I’ll shift my image to a park run, not a marathon and be happy to pull off the track for more regular SM health breaks. 
 
David Brooks said, “We’re all drowning in unlimited freedom”. And that’s the truth. We have freedom for endless self-expression, freedom to post every aspect of our lives and every thought we have. And our challenge is to decide how to use that freedom, how to slow down, how to switch off and regain our creative heartbeat without distractions. 
 
And listen to our own inner beauty in the silence and solitude and take time to watch the bees and fall in love with their utter majesty and our place upon this earth.
J x

Clinging

Clinging: adjective 1. to hold fast by grasping to and winding around, to avoid falling.

I have been wrestling with a piece of artwork for the past 4 weeks (at least), returning to it most days. Sometimes I’ve been tweaking and sometimes coming in with more radical changes.

I’ve spent a considerable amount of time gazing at it, asking for its help, or just standing mystified as to where I go next.

Everything about the piece is clunky and awkward; even the colours are at war with each other. I keep encouraging myself to ‘stay with it’ and let it do its thing, but I’m getting weary and wondering what it is that I’m not getting. It feels like I’m living with a sullen teenager who hardly acknowledges that I exist and goes out of their way to keep me in the dark about who they are growing into.

Do I scrap the whole thing and just chalk it up as a casualty of a conflict zone, or stay in the game and hold my nerve?

Then I decide to ask myself one question: ‘So, when did you lose your joy?’
And in a heartbeat, I knew the answer: ‘When I stopped having fun.’

It was when I got too precious about certain bits and refused to give them up for the flourishing of the whole. When I started trying too hard and I clung to certain bits saying, “I like that”, and “That can’t go”. I can see that I got too attached and too clingy and then the tightness came and got me.

I’d made certain marks that I liked very much, but they were holding the whole piece back and I wasn’t willing to paint over them. And now I was stuck, so it was time to blast myself free…. somehow!

Then it suddenly occurred to me that I cling to things in life too.

• Things I believe I can’t live without

• Attitudes and ways of thinking that I won’t give up, because I believe I’m right

• Relationships that I cling to and wind around, but rob me of joy

Back with my teenage analogy, I pondered what would need to happen to restore some trust and start to build back a path between us and I thought, well, I’d probably need to start by simply saying, ‘what is it you need from me?’

Could I actually say this to my piece of art without seeming utterly bonkers?

Why not? It’s worth a try, I concluded. So, I spoke and my art came right back instantly.

“Just set me free”.

So, I forced the issue and committed, then and there, to do something radical with the areas I’d inadvertently fallen in love with. They were the bits I was reluctant to paint over and where I was being held hostage to change and a chance to break the status quo.

It sounds bazar, but as I took my brush, laden with paint and briskly worked over my beloved no-go areas, I felt a strange rush of freedom (for us both).

Let me be honest here and say that I was still standing in no-man’s-land, but I felt very different and I knew joy had a chance and the game (of life and art) would move on.
“There is nothing to cling to, or run from” – Buddhist quote
Jane x

Blessed Are The Stuck

Whether exacerbated by Covid, or due to the times and seasons of the people in my life, there seems to be a lot of it about. I’m talking about feeling stuck; a kind of paralysis in one’s life. It seems to be spreading like the pandemic.
Friends have shared honestly with words like…
“I’ve never felt so lost and stuck in my life, I can’t see the way through all this”.

I’ve experienced my fair share of stuck-ness and it’s one of the most uncomfortable, life-strangling feelings I know. Like getting stuck in quick drying, knee high mud, there is no way forward and no way back. All you can do is try to stop yourself from spiralling into panic.

The pressures of life on our relationships, careers, parenting and our well-made plans, all have the capacity to force us into cul-de-sacs of despair, when things don’t work out and push our anxiety levels through the roof. What do we do when that happens?

Right now, I’m working on 2 giant art canvases’ both 150cm x 150cm (5’ x 5’). This experience for me is akin to learning to walk on a high wire. I oscillate my painting time between the two. It’s like caring for a couple of demanding children who know what they want, but aren’t able to tell you. I have to keep asking them, “So, is that what you had in mind?”,and then I stand back and wait. And often I hear the reply, “Nooooo!!” So, I step back in to correct and adjust. Sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t and then more tea is needed and some long reflection time is required. Then, when we all feel happy, we move on.

And there are also those times when I get completely stuck and I want to yell at the piece, “You’re just not helping me…I’m utterly lost…in fact things have regresses and I just can’t see any way out”. Tea doesn’t help at these points. Screaming doesn’t help either. It’s more like time to go on a long walk and break attachment from my creation.

On such a walk today, I came up with some thoughts around this issue of stuck-ness. Is this state a curse to be avoided, or might it actually be a blessing?

• When I feel stuck it means that my wise inner voice is trying to get my attention - it’s an alarm sounding, to tell me something needs to change. It is the message itself I need to be listening to, not my discomfort. What am I needing to hear?

• Being stuck means I’m heading in the wrong direction – in my relationships, in my work place, in my mental state or in my creative endeavours. Without intentional change the story will stay the same and the stuck-ness will become a life style.

• The truth is that I can trust myself to work out how to get un-stuck. We all have the potential and the skills to find answers, however hard that might be.

If you’re stuck in solid mud, up to the rim of your wellington boots and the muddy-goo around you is hardening like concreate, you might say, “There is no hope, I’m stuck like this forever”, or you might decide that you’re definitely not staying put. So, you slip your feet out of their place of imprisonment, leave your wellies behind and stride precariously to higher ground. It will be messy, but only for a while.

We all get stuck, it’s part of being human. Sometimes the issues feel massive and insurmountable and the pain acute. Then we need each other to speak truth to stuck-ness, because despair can hold us hostage and stop us from seeing the changes that are possible.

I’m going upstairs now to tell my paintings that they will get finished and we will make it to the other side, no matter how long it takes and however many muddy socks we’ll have to wash along the way.

Decision making and the last flapjack

Staring down at 2 solitary flapjacks (the runts of the batch), I notice that they’re slightly soggy, but still pretty tempting. Immediately my right and left brain engage in a head-lock. I wait to see what will happen next.

“Just finish them off. What’s the point in leaving them another day. You know you want to”, says my emotional, limbic brain, desperate for an instant sugar-rush.

“Really”, replies my exasperated cerebral upper brain. “Come on…do you really need them…. you had some earlier with your coffee?”

In recent years there has been a massive interest and resurgence in the use of collage.  People from all walks of life are diving into the daily practice and benefiting enormously – architects and fashion designers, philosophers, writers, gardeners, therapists, entrepreneurs and teachers, can all be found on Social Media using collage. They have all discovered it helps them to…

Think more freely

Ignite their creativity

Make way for experimentation

Learn to take greater risks

Strengthen their intuition

Drop into a more focussed state

…………and sharpen their decision-making.

Making good, strong decisions throughout life is a fulltime business, minute by minute, day in, day out. Some decisions seem utterly inconsequential and some decisions can bring about massive change in our lives, for better or for worse.  As I think about it right now, it feels a little scary when I ruminate on how enormously important decision-making skills really are.

My ability to make good decisions, that will shape my life, depends on my ability to have robust inner conversations. Yes, I really mean that…we can learn to notice and take a grip on the dialogues that happen in our grey matter and then hold back long enough to work out what will work best for us. 

A few weeks ago, after running a family group collage session on-line, I spent time reflecting on what an art practice, like collage, can offer our decision-making equipment.  I fell into the practice of collaging about 5 years ago.  I wasn’t really aware I was making some kind of transition to a different medium, I just wanted ‘more’.  It was an intuitive ‘knowing’ that adding random, yet carefully chosen papers, would be exciting and provide the challenge I was looking for.

Using magazine pictures, scraps of coloured papers and additions such as cardboard, brought a whole new dynamic to my work.  Unlike any other creative process I’d tried, I found collage the most enjoyable.  It forced me into a state of ‘not knowing’ immediately and took away any notion of control I might have thought I could achieve.

As I work, I can observe how I submit myself to a constant decision-making process…. Which involves a conversation about problem solving, to create a composition that holds together and gives me joy. I’ve noticed that boredom or frustration comes when my decision making around the creation of the picture gets lost. Staying focussed and asking again and again “Do I like that, yes or no?” “What’s working and what’s not?”, keeps me on the pitch. 

Collage is inherently free and playful and play reduces stress and heals our cortisol drenched brains (cortisol is a stress hormone). Collage invites randomness and allows for glorious unexpected occurrences, chance meetings and magical unions, which reminds me that that’s what I’m looking for in my life every day.

Love Jane 

Ps  I ate them by the way!! Lol 

*If this blog resonates with you and you’d like to give it a try (with a little support and guidance), then watch out for news of the next collage session coming soon. 

Just Relax – Really?

It's Mother’s Day today and I was remembering my own dear mum and suddenly a random, tucked away memory hopped out of hiding and bolted into the light. 

In my minds-eye I could see myself returning home from a day of teaching. My brain so fried and frazzled that I honestly couldn’t respond intelligently to my own children, who were in the back seat asking me a string of questions. I’d navigated a day of children calling out, “Mrs Beaumont!!…. Mrs Beaumont!!” and I was exhausted (I’m talking about a class of 7- 8-year-olds…are you with me?).

So, I’m in my numbed-out state and I arrive home and there, looped around the door knocker is a white plastic bag and I know immediately that my mother has called. Once inside, I phone her to say thanks for the six sticky hot crossed buns and she sweetly tells me to make a cuppa and ‘just relax’. Then I say I will, put down the receiver and immediately dive into making a meal, putting out the bins, marking books and planning a school assembly etc etc….

 ‘Just Relax’ felt like an oxymoron for me. There was much to do and so little time to get everything done. So, I kept running with my foot to the floor. 

 For years & years I didn’t make the time for art. I was unaware of how tight my internal guy ropes were becoming and at the same time fearful that I’d be disappointed in my efforts if I did stop and make time for anything creative.

As I look back now to my younger self, I wish I’d had the wisdom to put aside 40 minutes to rest into a regular art practice 3-4 times a week. If I had developed creative art habits, I believe I would have been… 
- more in touch with myself and my own needs, 
- less self-critical, 
- more playful in my spirit, 
- less driven by my cerebral left brain….and all round much happier. 

One of the attendees on one of my recent Collage courses caught her own vision of this possibility.
       "I find it so freeing, and for the first time in my memory I feel that I have             been able to truly express myself in my art. Since our first session, I have           done many more pieces of collage and I could not be more pleased that I             have this in my life. For this, I will always be truly thankful to you Jane"

Creativity is not an indulgence; it is a necessity (whatever you define as creative). Our left and right brains are designed to work hand-in-glove, together in perfect harmony. One without the other spells imbalance and leads to stress and even poor mental health. 

I returned again this week, to Ian McGilchrist’s superb animated RSA explanation of how the creative right brain plays such a vital and life affirming role in our lives. McGilchrist is the author of the acclaimed book, The Master and Emissary, about the role of the 2 brain hemispheres. He reminded me that all work and no play make us not only dull, but stops us from flourishing, holds us back from bursting into the fullness of life and discovering all that we are designed to be. (Do check out the animation talk it’s brilliant).

So, on this special day, I’m reminded to make a shout out to myself (and anyone who will listen), to make time to play, make and create, get curious, daydream and keep falling in love with the world around me.

Gold from the Grit

“Let everything have it’s time - don’t bully it into moving faster” - David Whyte

I’m panning for gold. Sitting close to a roaring fire in the early evening gloom, with the temperature set to fall below zero tonight, I’m using this cosy time to travel back through my journal, collecting quotes and notes and gems of learning and inspiration gathered over the past 12 months.

I wanted to see what gold could be found amidst the grit and struggle of the year; what could I salvage and take with me, as shiny keep-sakes into 2021.

I don’t claim authorship of any of these fine nuggets of wisdom. They come from a sweet plethora of sources and they are all things that have helped me and I hope they will do the same for you. Simply snatch up the ones that chime with you and bag them up for yourself, as you slip across the threshold into a brighter, more hope-filled year.

Some of these quotes and statements use arty-language, but don’t be put off, because they certainly apply to all areas of creativity and to every aspect of human life and our desire to flourish. So, filter them through your own situation.

1. We do best what we love most

2. Learn to live with uncertainty

3. Collect things and ideas and don’t worry about whether they make sense

4. Pay attention to what’s working and what isn’t (in your life and in your art)

5. Allow everything to move you forward

6. Thoughts become feelings, so hold them and explore them and let them run through you

7. Struggle makes you more determined

8. Just show up - stay committed

9. Trust that your art will emerge

10. When you get stuck, go back to basics and ask, ‘What is blocking my journey?’

11. Keep asking yourself, ‘Am I still taking risks?’

12. Keep PLAY central to everything - that’s where the juice is

13. Don’t strive to try to perform for yourself or others

14. It’s OK if you feel lost

15. Find your own voice - don’t just copy

16. Make art, no matter how you feel

17. Get clarity about your direction, your purpose and how it’s connected to your life

18. Learn why certain things move you and matter to you

19. Get to understand why and how you make decisions

20. It’s the falling down that creates the way for becoming more authentically you

21. Let things go - push away from the shore and let the current take you

22. Don’t be shocked that life is tough and messy

23. Love new experiences

24. Sink-in and listen to your heart and be OK with whatever the answer is that you hear

25. Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time

26. Discover what lights you up and start there

27. Everything is an invitation for growth - the universe is rigged towards your growth

28. Drop down into the part of you that hasn’t yet put words to how you feel

29. The soul wants to feel alive, so go there, push yourself and take risks, even if it feels scary

30. Let everything have it’s time - don’t bully it into moving faster

Go well, with courage and hope into 2021.

Love & Peace

Jane

Goldilocks & Art

I’ve had a surprising visitor in my head this week. I have no idea how she gained entry, but I have a hunch that she had something to tell me, so I thought I’d invite her into this blog to see what might emerge.

Goldilocks was definitely my favourite early years storybook character. The girl with no name (just described as blondie), was a courageous rule breaker and the little miss Bear Grylls of her time.

She slipped out through the garden gate of acceptable safety and headed into the unknown, in search of adventure - the dark woods where the wild and unpredictable lived. And, as we all know, she discovers a cute cottage belonging to a family of well behaved bears, who just happened to be out having their morning constitutional.

Goldilock’s curiosity got the better of her and before she could help herself, she was inside and standing on the kitchen tiles.

Then begins the bit that every child loves. Goldilocks starts making a series of decisions, as she discovers three different delights that grab her interest. We eaves drop on this little girl as she chats to herself, deciding which bowl of porridge feels right, which chair fits who she is and which bed gives her the comfort she longs for. She constantly checks in with her senses and her inner voice of well-being, then comes to a decisions and takes an action.

So, it left me wondering what could this tickle of a thought, floating in my subconscious grey matter, possibly have to do with art and creativity? I searched for a bridge, or even a fallen log, to take me over from Goldilocks to what may be useful for my art or yours.

• The first thing I realised was that, like Goldilocks, all of my creativity and artistic adventures have started by me getting intentional - a desire to leave ‘home’ and venture out. Without intention or a tangible idea, I would never leave the comfort of my bean-bag. Being clear about intention is vital, to keep me on the path, especially when the woods surrounding me ooze gloom. Recently I’ve been giving myself space, with my journal, to ask the question, “Where do I want to go with my art - what is the next adventure - can I see it clearly?” Little Miss G had an intention for a bigger life. She’d waited long enough. Now was the time.

• I realised that there will always be reasons for me to turn back, or linger in old places, when in fact I need to be moving on. We stay where we are, because we can’t face the closed door, which we imagine will be locked, or impossible to open and we are intimidated by an imaginary hand, barring our way. But, experience is showing me that if I turn the doorknob and forget my fears for a nano-second, it might just be enough to propel me into the first step of a new adventure. My recent art course into exploring abstract art, has done that for me. I imagined it would be impossible, until I tried and now I know I’m not in Kansas any more.

• We amusingly chant Goldilock’s famous lines…”And this one was juuuust right”, because she found the right porridge, the right sized chair and the right bed for her. The others were either, too cold, too hot, too hard or too big. Yet this was a girl who knew what felt right for her. Her internal SATnav was guiding her to what suited her best. She knew what she was looking for instinctually. If I trust my intuition more and keep asking myself good questions (maybe even aloud) and make time to literally check in with ME every day and then wait for honest answers, I’m finding that this is creating a habit of kind dialoging, which is leading me to better self care and a better space for my art to germinate.

  “Your best art will come from finding your own way” - Nicholas Wilton

Difference, Play & Creativity

Play & children go together like Christmas & Santa, or so I thought. But in 2009, I got on a plane to Chennai, India, with a giant suitcase of toys and headed for an orphanage where I met 80 tiny people. I was planning to use my new play therapy knowledge and enthusiasm to train the workers in play skills. I expected there would be loads of visceral shocks in store for me as I drove into the slum, but I honestly wasn’t expecting to find children who had no idea HOW to play, when presented with an array of toys. It turns out that play doesn’t come before safety, security and love in our hierarchy of needs. I expected the children to leap at the opportunity to play and it was heart-breaking to observe the absence of what we naturally expect to see flowing freely from small children - an innate, uncontained playfulness. It was like Christmas without a single clue to identify it was Christmas. 

Such a sad sight.  

During #secondlockdownuk I decided to sign myself up for an on-line art course. It was called SPARK, with Art2Life and artist Nicholas Wilton. It felt like the course found me, but truthfully my antenna was on the twitch for a new injection of something to spark my art practice. My Duracell’s were calling for some kind of recharge. I could feel the need for new thoughts and a dose of difference. 

I’ve just come to the end of the 21 day course and I wanted to share two key learnings – for my art and more importantly, for my life. 

Firstly, I learnt from day one that ‘difference’ has a huge impact on HOW and WHAT we create. We come alive when we experience difference - we’re drawn to difference. When we see something we’re not expecting, it jolts us awake and makes our hearts quicken with delight. We are naturally attracted to things that are different – different people, places, colours, combinations of objects, you name it! We feel our curiosity-buds light up; a call to us to pull up a chair and take a closer look. 

I learnt that bringing difference into my art/creative practices can be a game changer, because difference intrigues the brain, keeps the eye entertained and the senses engaged. When we put dull colours next to bright colours, these opposites dance because opposites like to hang out together. When we juxtapose two unexpected things, side by side…. for example, a pink dog sitting on a black wall, or the iconic Banksy’s street rebel throwing, not a brick, but a bouquet of flowers….it draws ALL our attention and invites a sense of playfulness. 

And that’s my second takeaway - to make play central to my life and to my art practice. It follows, that if I’m at home with my playful self, then that playful self will feel safe and uninhibited when I make art (think children and finger painting). 

Play is the secret weapon of all creativity. When we play, we bring all of ourselves out into the light. It’s impossible to play without sharing more of ourselves and that’s always fun to see in each other. 

Play invites intuition and that’s vital, whether we feel we’re into art and creativity, or not. Our intuition is our touch-stone and internal compass and needs constant sharpening, so we can trust it to light the way and guide us through life.  

The principle of using the power of playfulness in your life sounds great in theory, but the reality is a whole different matter. Those of us on the course exchanged FB chat on a daily basis, admitting how difficult we found it to just, ‘let go’, ‘get something down on the page with boldness’, or ‘take risks’’. We had to fight every impulse to control and to minimize risks. 

I realised that even as a trained Play Therapist, I had to learn to play again. I had to invite myself into a playful space without clenching my jaw, or chiding myself over wasted time. 

I could see that my play-muscles were weak and out of shape. I needed help. Something needed to be done! So I’ve decided to….. 

a.     Play in my art room for an hour every day for the next month.

b.     Find a young play buddy to share art with for the next month - to keep me in play mode.

c.     Invite difference into all aspects of my life, to shake things up and keep the spark of imagining and intuition alive.  

“Choose repeatedly what lights you up” – Nicholas Wilton

Celebrate Where You Are, Right Now!

Getting ready for the art exhibition

I want to write something about Celebration today, or rather the lack of it and how we respond to that feeling of loss that we’re experiencing, by not being able to celebrate these days. Easter came and went and birthdays have been devoid of any jollifications: no excited anticipation around awaiting a special day, whether it’s for you or your loved ones and no secret planning behind the scenes.

Having no celebrations on the horizon leaves me feeling flat. I can feel it in my bones. No parties to dress up for, or weekends with special others to look forward to and buy sweet gifts for. We’re feeling the aching loss of hugs and closeness more than ever.

It feels like the Wicked Witch of the West has put a spell on us, forbidding joyous gatherings and denying us the opportunity to make merry, watch each other smile & laugh raucously and do what we do best… spread the life blood for love & belonging.

I woke this morning with the realisation that the need to celebrate is too strong within us to be ignored and silenced under heavy floorboards, just because we find ourselves in a state of separation due to the pandemic. We need to assert our resolve to find a way to defy the witch, somehow.

The first day of my art exhibition

I wouldn’t mind betting that humans have been making time to celebrate since they learnt to walk upright – the re-appearance of the full moon, the success of a hunting party, or the finding of a new snug winter cave. It doesn’t really matter. All good things call for celebrations. To celebrate is to acknowledge an achievement, a milestone, a win, an overcoming… a YES in our lives!

So, if we can’t celebrate in the usual ways, what can we do? If wedding and family gatherings, house parties and birthday-bashes are a NO-NO, we’re going to have to find different reasons to celebrate, however small, however ordinary and laugh with each other as we celebrate our small triumphs.

This week I’m celebrating my first solo art exhibition. It’s a huge milestone in my life, a personal triumph and an overcoming of the hag on the broomstick. Yes, it actually happened, with the love and support of a whole host of brilliant souls, cheering me on, phoning and pitching up throughout the week (all masked up), to mark the moment with me. There were no pre-exhibition nibbles, no clinking of glasses, but something better in many way – time given to text and call with un-rushed words of deep encouragement and support.

And tomorrow evening, when the exhibition is all dismantled and packed away, I will celebrate with my love, in a quiet way, with a bottle of wine…like you do.

But, in the weeks ahead I have resolved to make ‘celebrating’ part of the warp and weft of my daily life. I’m going to be on the lookout for any possible excuse to make time to celebrate – and why not. It might be because…

• I got outdoors, even in the rain, 3 days in a row with my sketchbook = celebration!

• I finished a piece that has been waiting for ages for those finishing touches = celebration!!

• I set a vision for my art journey for the next 6 months = celebration!!!

• I found the courage to write an article for a magazine = celebration!!!!

I’m putting celebration at the centre of my life, because life is too short not to. I’m going to celebrate with chocolate, a long walk, a kitchen dance, a pot of good coffee, a trip to the beach, tea with a neighbour in their driveway…or a candlelit bath. And I’m going to keep a list of my little wins along the way.

We need the power of celebration, because celebration builds back self-worth, brick by brick and welcomes in a fresh dose of courage for the next stage of the journey. It pushes back weariness and any erosion of our self-belief and creates new and imaginative narratives of hopefulness and optimism…and fuels our creativity.

So, let’s continue to make happy memories and celebrate, come what may!

Collage piece called, HOPE in Lockdown