Barbara Hepworth

Posted on July 6, 2012 by Hannah

Barbara Hepworth was the first artist I encountered who really taught me what art is. I was about 14 and went on a trip with my art class from school to the Tate in St Ives. We also visited Hepworth’s Trewyn studios there. I drew very little that day. I just wanted to look at those strangely wise shapes she had sculpted. I wanted to place my palms on the curved surfaces and lay my face against them. These majestically silent structures communicated something profound and perfect to me. Not that I can put into words what exactly that was. Hepworth showed me that knowledge is captured and passed on in multiple forms; through palms and fingertips, through smell and shape. I could go on! She showed me that there is a whole place where words run out and communication is at its most consummate. So I have been pretty eager to get along to the new Hepworth Museum in Wakefield, which is where she was born.

The museum stands with its feet in the River Calder and today that was no mean feat as the swollen torrent pounded on. The materials used in the building beautifully reflect Hepworth’s own use of materials in her sculptures: white plaster, bronze and wood. Light was important to her and she once commented on the special light to be found in both Yorkshire and Cornwall. In the musuem light rebounded everywhere. In one window some of her more sizeable sculptures look out over the racing water. I once saw a photograph of her on a beach, rock behind her, looking out to sea in a black dress. She could have been at the museum today, looking out on the river with her sculptures, black dress, black hair, steely glint in her eyes. Ah, what a day!

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Blackpool

Posted on July 3, 2012 by Hannah

I think Blackpool might be one of the strangest places I have ever been. Many of Big Dreamer’s family originate from this part of the world and today we were there to visit some of his mighty tribe. Given Little Owl’s ardent affection for modes of transport we simply had to try out the brand new trams that run along the promenade. We hopped off at the North Pier and Little Owl had a poddle about in the shallows.

On one side of you there is this incredible expanse of sky and sea made up of infinite blues, lilacs, greys and greens. Then on the other side, almost as infinite, there are innumerable amusement arcades, gift shops, tourist attractions, takeaways, and hotels. The place is a crazy mixture of shabby facades, vintage treasures, tourist bling, and action-packed billboards, clinging on at the mercy of the brutal Atlantic Ocean. Recently I heard Jean Sprackland read her book Strands on Radio 4 in which she talks of the mysteries uncovered on Ainsdale Sands between Blackpool and Liverpool as the sand shifts and swirls. Jean describes the area as a place of transformations. As the sun goes down and the Illuminations prick the night that description seems as apt for the Prom as it does for the beaches.

Just to add to the craziness of Blackpool vast sculptures have been sited along the sea front. My favourite was Dune Grass by Chris Levine and Gordon Young. Dune Grass is made up of giant pliable structures with balloon-like bobbles on the top that move in the wind. In today’s weather they swayed like sage old gentlemen and the action was mesmerising. Another one (pictured here) is called the Comedy Carpet. It’s a huge jingle-jangle of playbill styled jokes, songs and catchphrases to celebrate writers and comedians who have played at Blackpool. Apart from being a typographer’s dream it is also one of the largest pieces of public art ever commissioned in the UK.

As we strolled under the Blackpool Tower Little Owl’s head bent backwards by degrees until it was almost horizontal. Pointing at the bottom of the Tower she said, “It’s down there.” Turning to me in amazement and pointing to the top, “It’s up there too!” I can’t think of a better response to Blackpool.

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Family gatherings

Posted on July 1, 2012 by Hannah

Little Owl and I are currently enjoying a jaunt down to Yorkshire. This weekend there was a bit of a clan gathering of Big Dreamer’s family. It’s a mighty family and very close knit so it was great to see them, even though it was still only a small proportion of the grand whole! Fortunately they have embraced me and my creative idiosyncracies so I get to do lots of sketching when they’re all about and they don’t bat an eyelid. I remember one occasion when I had them all with their shoes and socks off so I could draw around their feet for a college project. Here’s a page from my sketchbook from Saturday night.

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History and hares

Posted on June 28, 2012 by Hannah

This morning Little Owl and I took one of the back roads over the tops of the hills. The road climbs tightly and steeply, between thick verges bursting with cow parsley. Swallows dipped and darted in front of us. Taller heights in the near distance were topped with swirling mist. The tips of the wind turbines on one crag could be seen peeping out of the bottom of the cloud at intervals as the blades turned.

At the highest point of this road is Soutra Aisle, the remains of a medieval hospital. I find it strange to think what a highway this region was, criss-crossed by pilgrims and armies. Soutra Aisle was also used as a warning beacon. On a clear day you can see for miles. A beacon lit there can be seen in the far hills of Fife and from the castle in Edinburgh. I always think it would be an amazing spot to see the Hogmanay fireworks from. Unfortunately the road is impassable in winter.

In fact it has been a bit of a day for history. Our lovely friends took us to Hailes Castle.Β Little Owl charged around, squealing with delight at hidden steps and secret dungeons. In the distance was Traprain Law, ancient home of the Votadini, literally called Traprain because of the way rain collects in a pool on the top.

I think that’s one of the reasons I’m so enjoying drawing these hares for a lovely lady in Innerleithen at the moment. If any creature sums up the magic and mystery of landscape it must surely be a hare.

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Daisy, daisy

Posted on June 26, 2012 by Hannah

Today Little Owl and I crossed two fields full of daisies to sit on a stile we know. It has a platform at the top which is a perfect perch. We sat there singing Daisy, daisy at the top of our voices to the fields falling away in front of us. Then we sang The Farmer’s in the Den. Little Owl taught me a lesser known extra verse that goes “The cat wants a trife, the cat wants a trife…” It should be more widely known I feel.

This afternoon we got out Little Owl’s paddling pool. Yes, it was paddling pool weather! Little Owl got the pool for her birthday and this is the first opportunity we’ve had to use it. It also came with two bags of plastic balls which we floated in the water. Here she is.

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East Neuk Open Studios

Posted on June 23, 2012 by Hannah

Today we went up to Fife for the East Neuk Open Studios event. The main draw (sorry, no pun intended!) for me was my old tutor from college, Jill Calder. Here is one of her cards. Jill is a superstar of the illustration world. You will know her work without even knowing you know it. She’s worked for pretty much everyone who’s worth working for and her work is outstanding. Sadly she’s no longer lecturing at Edinburgh College of Art and we miss her loads. What Jill doesn’t know about illustration you could fit on a pin head.

The trip was going well until I remembered the soup we’d left on the hob at home just as we were about to cross the Forth Road Bridge. Big Dreamer assured me he’d turned it down low but he’d put it on the temperamental ring on the hob…the one that sometimes doesn’t turn down even though you’ve turned the switch. Half an hour of circling then ensued where we turned round for home, sure that the house must be burning down, only to turn back round because we were half way there and of course it would be fine. Eventually we compromised by deciding we would hurry to Jill’s studio and have some lunch then go straight home again.

So what was supposed to be delightful saunter to see the best and brightest of the East Neuk art world turned into a vastly condensed affair. We rapidly enjoyed our award winning fish and chips in Anstruther. We raced to Jill’s studio to see her looking fine and well. She has a gorgeous place amongst the quaint stone fishing cottages on one of the winding Cellardyke streets. Her studio is light, bright and full of snippets of inspiration. We ran down to the beach where I noticed lots of pock marked stones where agates would have been (I learnt that at Countryfile!). Big Dreamer thought he was hilarious when he picked up one of those red bricks with the holes in the middle and commented that there must have been a massive agate in there. We then revved our way all the way home.

And of course, it was fine. There were no fire engines there to douse our blazing home. There was no blackened ceiling from smoke damage. There was no burnt saucepan. And do you know the name of the soup? It was Madhur Jaffrey’s Fireman’s soup.

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Sodden fields

Posted on June 22, 2012 by Hannah

Little Owl and I crossed sodden fields to Toddler Group this morning. I carried her over large stretches where the water was deep enough to engulf her wellies. The long grass looked beautiful delicately peppered with glimmering droplets until I walked through it and the fronts of my jeans were quickly soaked. Once we reached the old railway line Little Owl could run freely, splashing in the puddles to her heart’s content.

All this wet weather has proved ideal for the slugs in our garden. It’s such a hot topic for the nation that it even made it on to the Jeremy Vine show a week or so ago. Β Our next door neighbour opted for some beer traps in her garden and delighted in telling me the length and girth of the specimens she found dead in them. Ugh! She’s backed that up with piles of slug pellets. I’ve been trying out some of your suggestions from last year. Our vegetable patch is sprinkled with egg shells and coffee granules. We were also tipped off my Big Dreamer’s Granddad that shells are quite effective so Little Owl and I collected a good bag full recently to scatter around. Of all the pests in the garden slugs are the ones I want least interaction with, not even dead, so I’m keen on methods of control that put them off rather than killing them. Any ideas most welcome!

Here’s a drawing from half way up the hill behind our house with one of the old barns in the foreground.

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Wild waters

Posted on June 19, 2012 by Hannah

Here’s a little girl who is happy in the sun. The same can’t be said for us. After the deluge over the last week the weather has continued to be showery. Between the downpours we scurried down to the river and the impact of all that rain has been thoroughly felt. The river is still swollen and furious but it must have been a good metre higher over the weekend.

The banks look like someone has combed them stiffly. Everything is bent over in the direction of the water flow and coated in a dusty grey mud. Our delicate wild flowers are long gone and bundles of sticks are caught in the nooks of trees not far off shoulder height. At our favourite bend in the river it looks as though the water gave up keeping its course and just pounded through the woodland.

A little wooden bridge that teeters over a gushing burn as it joins the river has vanished. Fortunately this is not altogether unexpected and we follow the wire that lassoes it to a tree to retrieve it from the mud. It is soon replaced and my poor mum gulps as she sidles along it. The farmer who farms the land directly opposite us is gloomy. He’d spent a good deal of time and effort drilling a field for sheep feed. Most of the seed, not to mention most of the field, has been washed away by the power of the rain and the engorged river.

Little Owl is is unperturbed by the destruction. After all, my Dad has bought custard doughnuts. How bad can life really get after that? She blankly refuses to eat any of her dinner until it emerges that she is saving space for her doughnut. There’s no way she’s getting away with that and the doughnuts are put firmly out of sight until she’s cleared her plate.

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New rabbit strategy

Posted on June 16, 2012 by Hannah

My Mum and Dad are staying with us at the moment. As many of you know my Dad and I are partners-in-crime over the garden. He’d barely been here ten minutes before he’d got the bit between his teeth again and this time the rabbits were in his sights…literally. He was out with the air rifle, taking aim. Periodically he vanishes only to be found lurking at a window ready to fire. He only half listens to you in conversation. One eye is on the garden ever watchful for the tell-tale flick of a pair of brown ears. He’s even been doing target practice against one of the barn walls. It’s the rose bush that has caused this determined reaction. They chewed it to the ground…thorns and all.

Big Dreamer and I have discovered an alternative strategy which may prove more fruitful than Dad with his rifle. When we were in Yorkshire a little while ago we visited the RHS garden Harlow Carr. They have a wonderful allotment section and they also have rabbits. What they’d been doing was putting sticks around the plant in the way I’ve drawn in my diagram (okay, maybe they hadn’t sharpened theirs!) to create a natural thicket around the base of the plant. I don’t know if they were actually doing that to stop the rabbits but we’re trying it out and so far so good. It also looks a lot better then heaps of chicken wire and netting everywhere.

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It’s raining again

Posted on June 15, 2012 by Hannah

Another rainy day in Scotland and not much chance of getting outside to run off some energy. The rain is pouring down in sheets and the other side of the valley is barely visible for the white cloud that hangs low. Our next door neighbour dons layers of waterproofs and trudges miserably up the hill. She hates mud. Our beautiful oriental poppies are bashed to the ground.

Trapped inside with a curious child here’s what we’ve been up to this morning. Little Owl received these mice as a present. They came in a pretty brown box wrapped up in tissue paper. This is the house we created for them. Do you like the cheese picture on the wall? It’s even got real carpet on the floor.

The house is made from a box in which Little Owl received a lovely little bowl, mug and plate set when she was born. I love a good bit of packaging and can’t resist ferreting it away to use for something else. I imagine there’s a few of you out there who are just the same. There’s something very satisfying about turning it to another good use.

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