The Gate at the Edge of The Village

UP ON THE HILL we climbed yesterday, you could smell sun on the low morning air and see specks of buzzards fly far below. Our lungs and hearts stretched and filled with the day, we drank a thermos of tea and looked down over the roofs of the houses of our village. Small as a train set, arranged at the foot of these two hills like the imagined place of a child's game, set out on the green patchwork carpet of Devon in their nursery.

There's been a conversation crackling the airwaves lately, about blogging and the mysterious interconnectedness of it, why we do it and how it inspires.. et cetera. It all began with questions brought up in an interview I did recently. I am the latest to be invited Around The Table With Howard and Rex - the duo behind the emerging graphic novel John Barleycorn Must Die. Howard Gayton, its writer, is the husband of Terri Windling; and Rex van Ryn, its artist.. well, I'd best not shed any light on this shady character... I leave you to investigate further yourselves.

This was the first time I'd been interviewed face to face like this, and it was mighty interesting as a process, especially since the discussion was with people working in the arts themselves.

Part One was posted last week and Part Two is up today. Reading back over what I said has the slight awkwardness of hearing my own voice on the answer machine, and at times I think I made more sense in speaking than I do in text. Nevertheless we touch upon some delicious topics, like inspiration and tricksters, being true to your art, and the nuts and bolts of the creative process, which is what they have been exploring in all the Round The Table With interviews so far. Do go and read, there's even music from some Imaginary Gypsies...

So from here a baton was taken and quite a team has grasped it and run on. So far with varied and fascinating reflections on blogging, there's been musing going on at: Terri Windling's Drawing Board, A Mermaid in the Attic, Ravenwood Forest, Theodora Goss' blog, Lunar Hine's blog, Midori Snyder's In the Labyrinth, and Erzebet Yellowboy's blog. In fact Tom and I even continued the conversation on blogging with Terri and the dogs on top of the other hill overlooking our village the other day:

What a strange and cumbersome word that is - blog - but I like where it came from: a web log, like a ship's log, you can perhaps imagine us all pegging our log entries onto a huge web for the general perusal of spiders everywhere.

The friends above all give their reasons for blogging, which touch upon connection, friendship, and the sharing of delights. Once this Hermitage was mentioned as an example of artisan blogging, a term I liked very much. It has become a vital part of the work of so many self employed artists and craftspeople, and as I say in my interview, I would not now be lucky enough to spend my days painting for a living without it. But I am amazed at how blogging is still catching on, and gathering new enthusiasts daily, I thought I was late to the party when my talented friend Gretel Parker urged me to begin a blog some years ago. (I am continuously thankful to her for this!)

But, the other themes that seemed prevalent to me across the On Blogging posts mentioned above were those of time and boundaries. How near to your garden gate do you allow your followers? How much time can you give to this? Can your blog act as a sort of butler to answer your door - an intermediary between your studio and the world?

I find myself like a child in a sweetshop with a great long list of visually inspiring and well written posts popping up in my reader daily. But in my topsy turvy way, this frequency and abundance is also terrifying to me. Soon enough I tune out and find the never-ending stream overwhelms me. I put an awful lot of energy into the posts I make here, and they are fewer and farther between than most folks'. I am continuously amazed at the apparent productivity of the artists whose doings I follow, and the fact that they can also find time to write about it all.

I think the internet is a truly wonderful thing - a knowledge disseminator, a connector of like minds, a democratizer, a mind expander... but we must handle it carefully. It is easy to become lost in its forests and, most unappealingly I find, become dulled with the brain-fug of too much choice. I would like to find a simple path through this wood, where we do not forget the feeling of damp earth under our feet, and the breath of things that do not contain a silicon chip.

The wonderful and appreciative things you all say here and on email really do make me smile, your words encourage me and remind me that I am apparently tending a good garden here. Thank you. I love too that many of you settle down with a cup of tea with my posts. I am flattered and delighted at that quiet appreciation.

For those of you with a whole pot of tea beside you, I have written before on similar but different threads: Vagabond Villages & Transient Towns (from my travelling days), and ...Considerations on Artistic Conversation.


This little blog-torch-passing phenomenon has been described as A Moveable Feast, an Imagined Village.

The minuscule village scattered below us yesterday is just that - an imagined and manifested community of wonderful artistic folk, amongst whom I am lucky to live. But I think too on the transience, the moveability of our arts.. the way the inspiration is passed along from one to the next to the next and back round again. We are all travelling and standing still, looking down from the hilltop. Artists as gatekeepers, we are, oiling the hinges of the gate to that Other Place...

Look, there in the distance - the beginning of Dartmoor - the wild expanse beyond.

Ringing bells in other people's spirits

YOU KNOW when you stumble across another person's work and you are drawn into their world in a tumbling ecstasy of combined respect at their skill, delight at their creations and enjoyment of their mind?

Well the internet is a wonderful place for this sort of thing to happen and for this I applaud it and its magical wires that aren't really there and that seem to pass paintings and tunes and thoughts and words and films along them as easy as if all of us were sitting in one big room sharing stories. Not so long ago we would have fallen backwards off our chairs to hear of such a contraption. But now it has become an extra limb, and a very useful limb indeed for those of us who are trying to make things at home, trying to paint and create and make a bit of money (not that we like it really but it helps to pay for teabags), very useful it is indeed for those of us who want to hide away in our nests but also want to show people what we do in case others might like it, in case it might ring bells in their spirits.

And so that brings me to the odd world of blogs. I was a novice at this not so long back, but find that I have connected with others who are also making beautiful things and this is helping us all to make a living doing what we love to do. From time to time I have seen that people pass on "awards" or "memes" to one another for their work, thus promoting them.
I have never been a fan of those brash chain emails that under a charitable guise, whip up a sort of superstitious dread that some terrible luck might befall you unless you clog up ten more people's inboxes within the soonest few minutes.
The point of me telling you all this is to say that I received a one of these awards the other day from Cliodhna Quinlan and have found some other lovely things written about me and my work here and there and here and there and here and there. Thank you to all of these people ~ it is genuinely appreciated. I even found someone who included me in their commentary on artisan blogging.
As you may have guessed, I don't really want to follow the crowd in this matter, but I would like to show you some lovely work by some people whose creations drew me into their world as people above have been drawn into mine...

Carson Ellis paints and draws after my own heart. Her work is strange and sad and she seems to share my fascinations with lettering and Russia and accordions. She blogs here occasionally and her lovely website is here. You may have seen her work adorning the albums of the Decemberists.

Gretel Parker is a lovely friend whose work enchanted me as soon as I saw it. She is a fellow lover of wheeled creatures and tales and a master watercolour artist, conjuring tales of melancholy and loss in a far off toybox world. Here is her lovely collection of work and here in the middle of nowhere is her well read and so well written blog. I was lucky enough to have the loan of her studio where I painted my first watercolour.

Lisa Hurwitz I discovered via the lovely land of Etsy and I was very glad. Her paintings are scratchy and large-headed, melancholy and strange and her drawings are beautiful. I am a great admirer of her work. Read her blog here and see her portfolio here.

And finally the fabulous Cart Before the Horse folk art of Jo James makes me smile no end. Her creations are beautifully made and suitably strange and topsy-turvy for my tastes. Read her lovely bloggings and doings here.

These tagging businesses are supposed to include seven facts about yourself or somesuch.. but ... well... for that you'll just have to keep reading this blog! Suffice to say.. as you may have noticed, I like beautiful things with a little bit strange and a little bit of sad.