Conclusion: Much more of a slog. But still worth it. If you don’t know, the 100 day project invites people to do one thing everyday for 100 days, recording it, or not, on social media, usually Instagram. The idea being that all those little bits of creativity teach you something, and added up, mean…

I recently visited Tate Modern and caught the Maria Bartuszova exhibition. No, I hadn’t heard of her either. It could be that my knowledge of Eastern European 20th century, female artists is lacking. There again, it could be that our collective knowledge of Eastern European, 20th century, female, artists is lacking. The exhibition was…

I was lying in bed, thinking about death- as you do- and imagining looking back over my life. Would it have been a life of selling art or making art? An art business or ‘being an artist’? I suppose the former has ‘grubby’ (why?) connotations of doing things for money, the everyday-ness we all…

Yes, I’ve been pulled in by the lure of ‘going big’ as most artists do at some point. Having been essentially a printmaker, working on paper, for most of my career, I’ve recently been straining at the leash. I want to make immersive art, gestural and bold- and the feeling won’t go away. The…

I went to see Lisa O’Neill, an Irish folk (and so much more) singer at St Georges in Bristol last month. I booked the tickets on the strength of one song heard by chance on the radio- a rare occurrence for me. When I arrived, it seemed lots of others had done the same,…

It snowed. In March. Almost unheard of in the warmer and wet South West. I spent a few minutes watching it float down from our small, awkwardly shaped patch of sky, out the back, between the rooves, chimneys and drain pipes. White on white. Actually grey on grey. The more I looked, the more…

It wasn’t much of a sunrise, truth be told. I walked out along the coast path, hoping for a spectacle, or even a moment of…something, against the implication of the grey blanket of cloud. I reached the field I love the most. Somehow the camber, the line and roll of it warms my heart,…

In winter, though the quantity of the light is small, I try to appreciate the quality of the light. Watery, oh so soft, diffused, horizontal. The pink blush of a frosty morning. Unless I wake at 4 or 5am, I don’t get to see this rare, ephemeral light in Summer. So, in Winter, I…

I had a day of white and light. Near enough to Imbolc, the light starting to seep in at the edges of each day. The beginning of the beginning of Spring. The time of a little hope. The day had been predicted- a full array of heart gladdening yellow suns at every hour on…

I prefer the solstice as a marker myself. I like the connection between us and the light, that is the focus of winter solstice. It makes me think of the ancient peoples who built all those strange and wonderful and perfectly logical calendars in the land- Stone Henge, Avebury, New Grange. Taking those shards…