The owl tree

Regrets, poppies and lino

The first of February. The studio is full of a warm liquid light these days, and the are not many places I would rather be, which is a shame because its been a shockingly (for me) busy week and I have been required to be in many other places, and meet many new people, which I am not good at.  I think it might be somewhat easier if I were shy, so I could at least maintain a sort of quiet mystery, but sadly I am more inclined to vacillate wildly between reacting to polite questions like the recipient of some kind of brutal interrogation, and enthusiastic oversharing of inappropriate things, all while failing completely to register social cues.

I get up in the morning and lovingly piece myself back into being. My body and mind are often not doing quite what they are supposed to, but they are mine, and deserve my kindness; I fall into the soothing rhythm of cutting lino. I cannot fathom why I have not been cutting lino recently.  I have been sketching, and experimenting with lithography, and making reprints of previous work; but there doesn’t seem to be any good excuse for neglecting lino other than January. It is my one true love, after all. Carving lino, I remember who I am, I feel my return. I remember, and then I forget completely, lost in the process.

Gardenings

There’s a clump of leaves in the apple tree. It might be a nest, but it’s been there most the winter and who builds nests in winter? It seems too small for a squirrel. Today there’s  a magpie in there fussing around, but it’s definitely not a magpie nest, and I can’t imagine there’s any snacks in there yet. After the magpie leaves a lone chaffinch sits nearby, then later a blue tit, but I’m not sure they are related to any of this. I might have to climb up and see what that leaf clump is, but I don’t need another obsession on top of owls and cormorants. The cormorants have been on their dead tree at the lake- two, and then the next day, three- even though the weather is quite fair. The more I watch birds the more they baffle me.

At 6pm in the twilight I listen to the owl, who must be close by as the sound comes from the back of the house there is nowhere to hide in field; he’s definitely in the garden. I think the extraordinary amount of hooting last week must have meant there was an interloping owl in the neighbourhood- things seem to have calmed dow, but I have not heard a female owl this year.

I have never actually seen the tawny owl, though it seems we are closely acquainted. I wander out to pick sage, and stare up into the trees, which suddenly fall silent. I sometimes wonder why I think of it as my garden at all; it thrives with life that seems positively put out by my presence. Things would sort themselves out perfectly well without humans, and the animals know it.

The muntjac that lives in the hedge has had a baby; in fact, she had the fawn slightly before christmas and we saw them fairly often, because baby had not developed a proper fear of cars and was often wandering about the drive as we came home. It seemed an unusual and probably unsuitable time to have a baby, but apparently Muntjac don’t have a breeding season and like humans, produce babies at inopportune times. I was a bit worried about them during the cold spell, because I hadn’t seen them for a while, but I saw him scarpering into the bushes coming home from one of my seeming endless social engagements. I think it’s just he’s just developed a healthy fear of cars now.

Workings

It seemed appropriate this week, given my current obsessions, to sketch the owl tree. I’m not sure there are any owls in it at the moment, it’s still a spectacular tree; all the lichens and fungi make it seem very colourful to me. I didn’t draw it all in situ but I think thats probably a topic for another post. I finally had the courage to use only my neopastel crayons, except for the grass and the sky. It turned out better than I thought it would.

I’ve added another layer to this lithograph. It’s clear that I need to work on my registration, and that the paper is not up to the task; the technique doesn’t require soaking the paper but it’s still quite a wet process, and this paper has warped. I might have another go after my paper order arrives, or I might decide I have learnt enough; I don’t know yet.

Poppies are back in stock though. It’s an affordable little print and a good way of supporting me, especially this week because Etsy are not charging fees if you buy from a link.

The bi-yearly shop for paper and sundries involves spending a lot of money which always makes me anxious, but it’s nice to be able to afford such things at all, of course. My reluctance to spend anything means the China palette I selected last month is out of stock though, and I am annoyed about that.

Findings

The sad palette situation lead me to ponder regrets this week. Luckily I don’t have many, because my life now is very good, so it all worked out well in the end, albeit with slightly less palettes than I would like. I think there are only a few things I’d do differently.

First, my secondary school english teacher. She was also my form teacher, and for reasons unknown to me to this day liked to make my school life miserable in a variety of creative ways. Once she shouted at me so loudly over nothing much that the whole school heard, and my mother was so angry I had to physically refrain her from going in there and arranging a rhinoplasty for Mrs Clarke with her fists. That’s my first regret, restraining my mother. I wish I let her punch Mrs Clarke  into 2024, so I could knock her right back in to 1993. Maybe it’s more I regret not appreciating fully having someone on my side, now I don’t have my mum anymore, rather than a grudge on a bitter woman from last century.

I regret not buying a Kurt Jackson painting in a Cornish exhibition a few years after that. It was obviously a lot better than the usual tourist bait landscapes, and a lot above my budget, but considerably cheaper than anything now he’s famous. I wish I had a bigger student loan and an early Kurt Jackson painting. Not because he’s worth money now, but because I like his paintings and I’m not rich. Well done though, Kurt, on making it.

I regret not taking up all the opportunities offered to me. For example, my friend Lisa once sent me some clay and told me to send it back to her, and she’d fire it for me. I did not do this. I am not good in three dimensions and I was paralysed with performance anxiety or something, I don’t know. I regret not making myself a series of little watercolour palettes shaped like mushrooms, but I was lucky enough to scoop up a few pieces that time. Lisa makes the most amazing coral structures and has a penchant for skulls Ive always enjoyed; please check out her work.

Tanya Shadrick once asked if I wanted a free phone call mentoring on writing and I said no because I don’t like phones; possibly a reluctance to write is a result the legacy of Mrs Clarke too. Tanya is a force for good in this world has a book and a Substack that you really should check out.