Tag: British wildlife

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Small Wonders

The lino printing project I am currently working on is a small one.

After spending the last two years producing large prints for the walls at Chalk Gallery in Lewes, I have recently returned to working on a more intimate scale, similar to that with which I began my work as a lino printer and first became absorbed with this addictive process.

The subject matter I am studying at present also lends itself to attention on a smaller scale, with a quiet and gentle focus; Snails, and garden insects, small creatures going about their daily business, easily overlooked but so important in the part they play in the larger story of biodiversity.

The idea came to me while I was walking alongside the local riverbank one morning after the rain.

I live in a beautiful part of the countryside and find inspiration easily in the natural landscape around me. Unlike many of the other local artists who I am friends with however, I find myself drawn to the detail. While they paint outside in all weathers, recording the undulating hills of the South Downs, the swathes of grassland or vast seascapes I tend to find myself gazing at a single blade of grass. My countryside walks are never long ones and I have usually found something to draw or photograph within a few yards.

On this particular morning it was the brilliantly coloured baby snails which caught my attention, straggling across the path (I rescued a few) and winding themselves up cow parsley stems. The contrasting pale yellow and deep brown stripes on their shells is an excellent design; eye-catching, high in contrast and almost hypnotic. Perfect for printmaking. It wasn’t long before I was crouching among the wet grass with my mobile phone and some curious looks from passers by. The idea to create some small works, celebrating small wonders, was fully formed

The project is currently in its very early stages with two potential linoprints begun this week. Carving designs on this scale presents some challenges of it’s own. The temptation would be to use smaller and smaller tools in order to capture finer and finer detail. However for me it is always the “maker’s mark” which appeals in linocuts, so apart from a few very fine marks, the main image has been carved with my favourite pfiel tool number 9. Carving with this approach means simplification is necessary, and conscious choices have to be made about what is truly important to the image and helpful in the design.

Re-creating a small subject on a small scale is satisfying in it’s symmetry. The final pieces in this project will be small, and will need small frames, and a quiet space to be enjoyed. They would be lost on a feature wall. I like the thought that one day in the future, when someone pauses on a staircase, or a landing, to look into the frame, they will be greeted with a special and intimate moment, rather as I was that morning on the riverbank with the snails and the rain. It will feel meaningful.

Maybe art doesn’t always have to make large statements. Sometimes it can make connections instead.

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In My Garden

The subject matter and imagery of gardens are often present in my artwork and lino carving.  My relationship with gardening started when I was little, following my dad around the flower beds and learning the difference between the weeds which I could help to remove, and the flowers which he was cultivating and I was not to pull up!  My Dad had a scientist’s approach to gardening and tended to enjoy the outdoor environment through a lens of calm observation rather than judgement.  Even when engaged in the process of weeding the flower beds, he still had an equal level of respect for, and interest in the weeds themselves; showing me how they spread their seeds in so many different and inventive ways; some flicking them into the air when fully dried, others acting like salt shakers in the wind.  And we both found pleasure in discovering a particularly big specimen that we knew the pet guinea pigs would find delicious.

As I began to pursue my interest in art more seriously and became a young art student through the A level and Art Foundation courses, I can remember making sculptures based upon seed forms, being inspired by natural structures, pressing flowers, and sewing dried leaves to naturally dyed cloth…  I also remember a favourite birthday present being seed trays and packets of seeds with which to cultivate my own area of garden in a back corner.  I believe some of the dahlias are still there.

I sometimes feel I have learnt as many life lessons through gardening as I have through art.  For instance, when I acquired a garden of my own as an adult, I set about enthusiastically trying to create a traditional cottage garden to compliment our flint-walled cottage, only to find that these small walled gardens are a perfect host to slugs and not a single delphinium survived.  Open warfare on these slippery creatures was never going to work, but to my surprise other plants sprung up and seemed indestructible in the face of the mollusc army. I learned to interfere less and watch more, as wild buttercups, Japanese anemone and a vast trumpet vine flourished without any need for tending, watering or protection.  The right plants in the right place is certainly a motto that can be useful elsewhere in life.  The creation of something beautiful does not need to be, and maybe even should not be, a struggle.

I have recently begun reading more widely around the subject of gardening.  “Wilding” by Isabella Tree has given me an insight into the complex connections between plants, trees, wildlife and the microorganisms which live soil. I learned to do less and less invasive work in the garden as a result; to allow old branches to rot naturally and beetles, woodlice and fungi to do their important work undisturbed.  “The Garden Jungle” by Dave Goulson taught me the importance of flowering weeds, letting the grass grow long and selecting plants which support bees and other pollinators. I can now spot and avoid a modern hybrid which would have previously fooled me with its good looks, but is actually useless to the insect population.

Learning, observing and going a little more with the flow has given me a relationship with gardening that is peaceful and rewarding, plus a garden that hums with life, takes very little looking after and which delights me regularly with a new surprise – a self-seeded poppy, or a new family of blackbirds.  I don’t have go far to be gifted with new subject matter for a drawing or a print.  If I take the time to stop and look, I have everything I need right there in this garden.