Riddle Me This!

I've got a puzzle for you.Today I went to the beach and filled a bag with treasure, but I didn't collect a single shell. What did I find? You can see in the photo.

 No points for guessing what kind of plans I have of this lot, though - the clue is in the next image!

Have made a few of these driftwood dolls already. Originally they were going to be more detailed - I have a vision of a sort of folk art-style "flotsam fairy". Some of them will probably end up as fairies eventually. But three of the basic "skeletons" have been sitting in the studio watching me work this week and I've grown rather attached. In fact I've decided that I like them so much as they are that it would be a shame to mess with them. Indeed I doubt I will be able to part with the first two - hence the need for more driftwood. Luckily I can find it in abundance on my beach - in fact the hardest part was leaving after only a few minutes, because my bag was full and I had other errands to run. How lucky do I feel to be able to pop to the beach on my way home from getting the groceries?! There are definitely some perks to living in the back of beyond.

More Thoughts from the Mermaid's Grotto

It's been a long time since I dreamed of seeing the ocean, and I've walked on a lot of beaches since that first one some 30 years ago. This year, this summer, on the beach I now consider "my" beach - that has been different. This is the first beach I have really come to know. But I have spent less than a year with my beach now, so there's still a long way to go to familiarise myself with her many moods and seasons.

I'm sure I cut a strange figure on the strand, in my linen smock, the capacious pockets weight down by shells and damp from being carelessly trailed through tide pools. Short, squat, and tipping into middle age, I approach the beach with the tireless fascination of a child or a dog (though my enthusiasm is a good deal quieter!). Oftentimes with my back to the sea, I crouch over tide pools or kneel on damp sand to scrutinise the tiniest of shells. Time ceases and I can find hours have passed while the salt spray has dried on the cuffs of my rolled up trousers and the tide which has crept in unnoticed threatens to carry my treasures away. Most times it is only the fatigue in my muscles or the darkening sky which drives me, somewhat resentfully, away.

I've come to know my beach pretty well this summer. Under the cliffs there are limpets by the score. The estuary yields small cockles and broken fragments. High up on the shingle is the place to scavenge driftwood, mermaid's purses and whelks. As the weather turns colder and the beach empties of holiday makers, there will be tiny shells as fine and transparent as a baby's fingernail. Sea potatoes tangle in the seaweed at the strandline, I know they won't survive the journey home intact but I can't resist collecting them anyway. When the Gulf Stream arrives, shoals of By-the-Wind-Sailors litter the beach with their indigo lips and transparent sails. I've come to recognise the clay where my feet will slip, and learned the hard way that it's best not to kneel on the peat slabs where the ancient forest emerges from the waves at low tide.

With each step along the strandline, I feel calmer, more centred, more rooted in my environment. I knew all along this would translate to my artwork, sometimes it just takes awhile to make the connections. Now that I have begun building the Mermaid's Grotto collection, it feels like the pieces have been in me all along, I was just waiting for the tides to turn so I could uncover them. 

Italian Inspiration Revisited

I didn't plan to go to Italy this year....times are tight for us creative
folk, and I'm trying hard to act like a responsible grown up type of person. But when my dear Italian friend commented how much she missed having me visit, and wished she could just send me a ticket, I decided to look into flights. Just out of curiosity, you understand.

Fast forward three weeks and I am stepping off a plane into Mediterranean sunshine. In the past, I've always gone to Italy with the primary intention of visiting a much-loved friend. However, each trip I have made has contributed vast amounts to my treasure trove of art and craft materials, and also to my mental store cupboard of inspiration. Why, Vagabond Romantics itself was largely conceived on just such a holiday! So this year I decided to call a spade by its rightful name and consider it a business trip right from the start. A business trip that involved lots of wine, pizza, gelato, and chat, but definitely a business trip!

I ran a crowdfunding campaign to help ensure I came back with the most beautiful bounty and whilst it was a necessarily short duration and didn't meet my target, I was fortunate enough to receive donations from three wonderful friends. One of them donated anonymously, but I'll pause a moment here to thank KD Shull and Mark Gowdy, both past-life chums who have managed to stay in touch over many years. I felt a bit cheeky, as though I was just asking people for spending money, but I knew it would be a fruitful trip and indeed that has proven to be the case! After a long period of creative doldrums, I am back in the studio and churning out brand new loveliness at record speed.

This post will serve an an aperitivo, as it were, to whet your appetite for more photos and details in the fullness of time. The photos showcase some of my favourite finds, a hint of future designs!

Welcome to the Mermaid's Grotto!

As a little girl growing up in the American Midwest, I treasured my shell collection. Mostly, I'm afraid to say, those shells were purchased (I now realise that's a huge no-no, but this was indeed the age of innocence), although a few were gifts or gathered from the riverbank outside my home. I dreamed of visiting a beach  one day but it took until I was eleven years old to see the ocean, a fact that seems inconceivable to my British friends!

Now my favourite beach is just a few miles down the road. At one end there is a marshy estuary, at the other slate cliffs, and in between lie sand dunes, shingle, and a petrified forest uncovered during low tides. It's an unimaginable blessing, and I never tire of beachcombing, with every zone offering its own distinct rewards. This summer I threw responsibility to the wind and did my best to spend every possible sunny day collecting sand between my toes. The upshot of this is that the carpet in my car will never be the same, and I have acquired many boxes of shells.

I had a vague idea that the shells would eventually be used in artwork, but I faced a quandary. Vagabond Romantics is hardly synonymous with minimalism, but how to incorporate shells without risking a full-on seaside souvenir vibe? Inspiration hit me, as it reliably does, on a visit to a friend in Italy. I'd started the year working on reliquary-inspired work. Religious monuments. Mosaics. Grottos..... at some point it all came together and I realised that the answer was - as is so often the case - right in front of me.

Ladies (and particularly dandy gentlemen), I give you the Mermaid's Grotto, my new collection for magpies, mermaids, beachcombers and indeed vagabonds and romantics! The first few pieces are already in the Etsy shop, many more are to be added shortly (I have been a busy bee.....) Hope you enjoy them as much as I've enjoyed making them - I wonder what next summer will bring?!

Sneaky Peek!

I have something exciting in store for magpies, mermaids and all manner of trinket and treasure hunters. Here's a sneak preview of my latest work to whet your appetite. 

Statement Collage Brooches and Necklace incorporating found shells, buttons, beads, broken jewellery, bits and bobs.

Transformation

One of the hiccups of trying to earn a living as a creative? Your work is never static. Vagabond Romantics is the second "brand" I've launched, I have three business pages on Facebook (for VR, for my studio, and for my teaching and more independent work) and at least three different business cards. It's been little over a year since I launched Vagabond Romantics, and already I'm wondering about rebranding.

"Straight Outta Downton"
Wearable textile collage art, 2014-15

Initially, my work was going to be all about dramatic accessories: statement neckpieces, cocktail hats, and lavish cuffs. I envisioned highly embellished, heirloom quality wearable textile collage art. And indeed I have made a few of these pieces (some of which have even made it to the Etsy shop). But before I even had a name for the brand, I came across a load of gorgeous silk Italian designer clothing at crazily reduced prices, and I realised their simple style could also be highly embellished for truly luxury pieces. I had the vision, I finally decided on a name, and the tagline "Dress for the Life You Dream".

Except as I developed my work, I discovered "altered art". And my fingers itched to create some work for display. And this led me on to more practical pieces too, like small storage and bottle vases. The tagline didn't fit quite as well as I'd initially envisioned, but I was still making plenty of jewellery that kept it relevant.

"An Apothecarial Guide to the Welsh Landscape"
Found object assemblage, 2015

But sometime last year, around the time summer began to turn to autumn, something shifted for me as well. I created a few pieces that seemed more sculptural, conceptual, cerebral....I found myself skipping cautiously along the blurred line that divides fine art from craft. And that which had always intimidated me suddenly seemed irresistible.

I still have plenty of wearable and craft pieces to sell, but 2016 will be devoted to creating more ambitious works. I have a vision in mind, who knows how long it will last?! I'm sure I won't be able to resist plenty of craft and experimentation too, but I think the time has come to move my work to the next level.

So I'm now thinking how to compartmentalise, market and promote my work - do I have to rebrand? I thought hard about the imagery, the name, the tagline for VR. I'd like to keep using it, and I undoubtedly will, for the smaller scale stuff. But perhaps the fine art needs my name, rather than a brand attached to it. But I will be writing about it here because at the end of the day, it's all me.

Gothic Reliquary Brooch
Found object assemblage, 2015

But if anyone can come up with a new tagline more relevant than "Dress for the Life You Dream", do send your answers on a postcard please!!

Musing on the nature of art and fostering creativity

It's often said that there are no original ideas left to discover, and it does seem there's a lot of truth in this. I think it's healthy, as an artist, to take in as much work by other creatives as one can, as this provides endless inspiration for one's own work. I often think my real creative strength is actually in modifying existing ideas to better suit my own aesthetic - hence my enthusiastic embrace of altered art! 

There are many reasons why I prefer to assemble existing objects than start from scratch, and in many ways I feel that constraints (in this case, of using the existing materials available rather than a blank canvas) seem to foster creativity and spur on the imagination. If you doubt this, imagine sitting down before a piece of blank paper and pencil and being told to "draw anything you like." For many of us, confronted with infinite possibilities, the mind responds by going as blank as the paper! Instead, what if there is a simple, irregular shape drawn on the paper and you are asked to turn it into a picture? Suddenly, the drawing becomes a game, and rather than enter into the activity with the heavy burden of "creating art", you can have a playful and relaxed experiment, a frame of mind that of course fosters the open mind which is useful for true creativity to take place. 

This last is an exercise I have regularly used when working with children, and "The Shape Game" (as it is dubbed by the excellent Anthony Browne has proven hugely popular and endlessly entertaining with every group. We also sometimes play a similar game with real objects: I fill a cloth bag with a selection of interestingly shaped items (not immediately identifiable if possible, bits of flat pack hardware or dismantled pieces from plastic items work well) and get children to choose one by feel and then imagine what it might be. Others will join in and the suggestions will become more and more outlandish. For example, a rubber wedge for a door might be a skate ramp for pixies, a spaceship landing pad, a spike on a child-safe security wall. 

When I tell people I'm an artist, I often get the response "What do you paint?" Occasionally they might mention drawing or sculpture. Assemblage arguably requires less technical skill than the more classic art forms, so one can see how it might be viewed as a "poor relation". But it could also be argued that techniques like collage and assemblage require more creativity than drawing (or painting, or sculpting) from life. Which begs the question, do we respect artists for their technical skills or their creativity? I'll let you debate that thought amongst yourselves whilst I carry on making.