On walls in six of the seven continents...

I WAS RECENTLY SENT a picture of my Weed Wife print framed most exquisitely, and thought that it deserved to be shared with you here. This picture (above) was sent to me by Stacey Carroll whose father made the amazing wooden frame to fit the Weed Wife perfectly; it sits on Stacey's altar as an honouring of her herbalism work. 

It always excites me to see photos of my paintings in other people's homes - the many ways people choose to frame them and the different places and ways they display and use them. As I address envelopes to send print orders to places with unfamiliar street names and postal codes across the seas, I wonder about those doormats where the envelopes will land, and the walls on which the prints will hang - what kind of places are they? What kinds of people live there? And of course, it is always delicious to get a little glimpse into these worlds! So I thought it'd be fun to share some of the photos of my work on far away walls that people have kindly sent me. 

This one (above) showing my calendar hanging in a cozy kitchen is from book artist Abby Nolan in Missouri, USA.

And this one (above) is from artist Lynn Hardaker in Regensburg, Germany. You can see the roofs of the city through the window beyond my Picking Up Sticks and Väinämöinen Sings A Ship.

Here two of my pictures - Soup & Pipe and Telling Stories to the Trees flank an oval clock in the magic-brewing kitchen of Michelle Bergeron-Martin in Ohio, USA.

This cozy nook (above) harbouring my Atching Tan print in the Highlands of Scotland is in the home of jewellery carvers Geoff & Fuggo King of Woodland Treasures.

Here (above) my Dark Mountain print, framed beautifully, hangs in the inviting Prague hallway of David Binar.

A mask watches over the walls of Burnard Burns in London, UK, where a few of my works can be seen.

Here (above) my calendar hangs sweetly in Suzy Davies' kitchen in Herefordshire, UK.

This wonderful studio wall, where a couple of my images share the inspiration-space, belongs to sculptor Jason Parr in Norfolk, UK.

Very pleased to show you this one (above) - sent to me by Cherlyn Simpkins, a teacher in Aberdeen, Scotland, UK - here my rendition of Roald Dahl's words about magic hangs on her classroom wall: "And above all watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you, for the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it."

This one (above) comes from the home of woodcarver Martin Hazell - as well as my calendar, you can see two of my original pieces amongst other wonders.

These two (above & below) show my prints and calendar displayed in Rebecca Elwell's shepherd's hut in the New Forest.

Here (below) my cards sit amongst small creatures in the home of Sally Mineur in Tasmania:

This lovely tableau by the phone (below) is from Kate Duerden in Surrey, UK.

And these next four lovely pictures are from shamanic healer & drum-maker Suzi Crockford's cozy cottage in Devon, UK:

Here below is a photo of two of my prints in the home of artist & ceramicist Marieke Ringel in Halle, Germany.

And this intriguing bookshelf (below) belongs to artist Jericho Moral in the Philippines:

I was excited to see this photo (below) - it shows the original of Soup & Pipe, framed beautifully, on Rebecca Wilson's wall in Ottawa, Canada.

In this one (below), we can see the Dia de los Muertos celebration altar of Anna Björkman in Sweden; there are two of my pictures - Anja in the Horse Chestnut and Sova Slova - amongst the other magics in there.

This one's from Aurélie Hesse in Romans sur Isère, France, and shows my calendar hanging on the wall of her jewellery studio where she creates fruit for her L'Arbre aux Abricots d'Argent (tree of silver apricots):

And here (below) my Smudge Fly sits in an art corner in the home of Becca Chapman in Pennsylvania, USA:

This is the hallway of Earthlines Magazine editor Sharon Blackie in Donegal, Ireland, where visitors to her home are welcomed by my Weed Wife:

These wonderful pictures (below) are from Carrie Osborne in Frome, Somerset who blogs her art and writing at Windsongs & Wordhoards. Here in her home my Alchemist is framed beautifully beside a box of wonders, nests and shells and skulls.. and my calendar hangs there too.

This one (below) was sent to me by Professor of Folklore and Mythology Ari Berk - you can see on his myth-filled Michigan, USA walls the original of my little oil painting on wood A Mountain Song to My Wordless Son.

And here (below) are two of my pieces on the creature-full walls of felt artist Charlotte Hills, in Nottingham, UK.

This one makes me smile, and is delightfully out of keeping with the rest. This is the home of a lovely man named Doris who lives in Norfolk, UK. Here my Sova Slova owl woman shares a wall with Lady Gaga!

This one's from Emma Welsh in York, UK - here my Weed Wife forms part of her Winter Solstice altar mandala:

Here (below) my Sova Slova print nestles on the walls of jeweller Miriam Boy of Silver & Moor, in Devon, UK:

And this one, taken at wintertime, shows my Feast of Fools wreathed beautifully for the solstice on book artist Abby Nolan's walls in Missouri, USA:

Here my calendar and The Alchemist framed beautifully adorn the home of Natasha Burge in Saudi Arabia:

And this one (below) is from Nathalie Desoil in Angreau, Belgium. The lovely frame was made by a French craftsman, and houses two of my works - Lodka and A Song to All Our Sorrows:

This group of photos (below) showing various works of mine in different settings is from the home of Teresa Interlicchia in New York, USA:

Very excited to show you this one (below) - it was sent to me by Amy Bogard in Cincinnati, Ohio, USA, and shows my Concertina Eggcup Song print on display at the workshop where Carroll Concertinas are made - a more perfect setting I cannot imagine!

And these artful walls of magic and inspiration, where a good few of my works dwell, belong to writer and wonder-weaver Sylvia Linsteadt in California, USA:

And lastly, a whole wall dedicated to my work in the home of Adam and Rhen Garland, in Suffolk, UK, guarded by Cernunnos and a boar. Adam and Rhen visit my stall every year at the Weird and Wonderful Wood fair, and each year buy a picture. What a lovely thing for me to see.

I hope you've enjoyed peeping into other people's homes with me! If you have any photos of my work in your homes, do send them along, I'd love to see, and perhaps we'll amass enough for another of these blog posts! And if you don't yet have any of my work - come along and buy some here! It really warms my cockles to see the fruits of my paintbrush-and-soul adorning the lives of folks far and wide, and reminds me why I do it in the first place. Thank you all so much.

Oil paint for the ears, spring flowers for the sorrows

THERE ARE WHITE FLOWERS growing beautifully about this rusty old wheel at the front of our truck, but I haven't had a chance to go and look at them these last weeks because I have been painting. Painting at night, painting in the days, painting in the bits in between.
I am emerging gradually from underneath an elephant of exhaustion which is the result of two manic weeks of exhibition preparation. Up in that tree I knew not of the long hours of desperately focused painting that lay ahead. I have always been a last minute artist and I think really that I work well under pressure, even though I don't like it one bit. I like best to be able to set my drifty painting pace to meander around my days as they go, but when an outside deadline looms, I fear failure above all and morph into a new creature with an iron will to finish it, no matter how leaden my eyelids or how loud my inner screams.


I had two paintings to complete before the opening and both are, I think and hope, the best things I've done. And while I have painted like a thing possessed, Tui has made me the most lovely picture frames from found wood.
Along from where our house rests its wheels is a pile of moss and timber that was once a barn. The roof has caved in completely and all around nettles and brambles grow. There by the barn-that-was lie stacks of old pallets. Weathered by time and the sky, grey and holey. Perfect for a poverty stricken artist who cannot afford expensive framers. I bought cheap clip frames to provide the glass and the backing and had mounts cut. The rest was done by Tui with glue and staples and sandpaper. Here are the magnificent rustic results in progress and in all their gallery glory!

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Meanwhile springtime was passing me by; I sat bent over the table like my painted characters, moving my three-haired paintbrush over the neverending surface of wood.
These two latest works have music coming from them. If you lean close and listen, you'll hear strains of strange East-European melodies, for those are the musics that move me.
If you have not yet heard the exquisite harmony singing from Bulgaria, sung sometimes with the accompaniment of the goat-bagpipe, the gaida, I urge you to - there is nothing like it. I've recommended it before but A Harvest, A Shepherd, A Bride - Village Music of Bulgaria is a wonderful collection of songs which I think is how this painting would sound if you could for a moment swap your ears with your eyes and listen to it. Anyhow, the point is that the painting I worked on up in that tree studio became this below. I am very pleased with it, and I rarely say this. A new tiny paintbrush has led me to paint fine lines describing the shapes of faces and hands and feet with finely diluted oil paint. And these different-sized people fit happily into the odd shaped piece of wood, singing their Bulgarian harmonies, while the little fellow plays heartily on his gaida. I only managed to take one photo of this painting amid the recent chaos, but here it is... (that first word of the title means 'sing' or 'we sing' - unless any Bulgarian readers can tell me otherwise?)

пея : A Song To All Our Sorrows

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And next came the final piece. With just one week to go, and the most enormous piece of wood I have ever painted on in front of me, I began work on a clock to out-tick all previous clocks... With pencil in hand I spent late nights drawing a scene of Pied-Piperishness, an old bearded one-man-band with rats nestling in his beard, and children following. It took time, and the painting gradually took shape. I had read that the story of the Pied Piper was perhaps a remnant of a history of an exodus from Hamelin to collonize parts of Eastern Europe. And this combined with ideas about Jewish music (something that has always resonated old and true in me), and the ostracization of Jews through history formed an image. The pied piper in this case has become a one man band, partly because I like the idea of a character carrying all his instruments and chattels at once, and partly because I needed the roundess of drum for the clock face. The title I took from the well known W.B Yeats poem The Stolen Child that has been sung by various folk singers, and so tied in thoughts of childhood, and the taking-away that is done by music and imagination, and that is so very important, not just in childhood. Of course there is sadness there too, as there always is I think in my work.
I took photos of this one as I went which I share with you here.

So there it is, I am pleased with my work, though I became far too exhausted to be able to 'see' it properly by the end. The night before the opening of the exhibition I was still painting... and went to bed, finally putting the battery in the back of the clock, and setting it to twenty to eleven. On waking.. it still said twenty to eleven and there followed a morning of panic, re-drilling and just a little throwing of pliers. With just half an hour to spare we arrived and hung the clock in its place on the gallery wall. There it'll be for all to see, and perhaps to buy until the 10th of May. These rather nice photos of it below were taken for the Imagine Gallery website.

Come Away O Human Child From A World More Full Of Weeping
Than You Can Understand

Now I'm off to not paint for a few days and enjoy the wonderful springing springtime...