I hope you have all had a superb Christmas and New Year. After a house full over Christmas and a couple of days doing nothing much but walking with Peanut and Jess, reading and catching up on Netflix shows, I am raring to go.
Lots is happening this year but the two big events are the Open Studios at the end of May and an exhibition with my old chum Gemma Pearce at my favourite hotel, The Old Coastguard in Mousehole, at the beginning of July. I will let you know nearer the time the dates for both.
I am embracing social media and have started making videos of my working process which are available to watch whenever you like on YouTube and Instagram. I’m going to show how I work from beginning to end, and discuss my methods in more detail as the months go on. Click here to subscribe to my YouTube channel.
Alongside the working videos I’ve started exploring the joys of stop motion animation. I have a feeling the characters in my paintings have always wanted to be able to move, and now I’m setting them free! When I first made one of my seagulls blink, using stop motion animation, it was a revelation and now I’m hooked!
I am tentatively planning on making my children's book Plop! into an animation this year using the weekends to work on it, but we will see…
Watercolour cutouts for stop motion animations
Recently I was asked to write a guest blog for Polpier & Penpol, a luxury guest house overlooking Mevagissey harbour. They asked me to write about the South West Coast Path, which is visible from the windows of the accommodation, as it crosses the harbour before snaking along wooded cliffs and away. Hopefully it will inspire some of you to get your walking boots on, whistle for your dog, and set off on your own walking adventure!
Seven years ago, on a chilly autumn morning, I found myself catching my breath while looking down on the harbour at Mevagissey. Sniffing around my feet was my companion, a six-stone Rhodesian ridgeback dog called Jess. She and I had set off on foot from Minehead in Somerset 26 days earlier. In just under four weeks we’d hiked 361 miles, but we still had a long way to go. Ahead of us stretched another 270 miles to reach our destination, the end of the epic South West Coast Path.
The SWCP is one of the longest national trails in Britain, making its way across vast beaches and along exposed cliffs, through forests and over moors. With every mile there is the chance to see an array of wildlife, seals and dolphins, choughs and lizards, not to mention the many species of wild flowers. But for me the best thing is that the whole path is dog-friendly. It’s quite something to be able to set off with your four-legged chum on a ramble that could potentially go on for months. And that is exactly what Jess and I did.
Walking side by side for seven weeks brought us together in a way that I couldn’t have imagined. We shared the same struggles, we slept together, ate (enormous quantities of food) together and limped in sync at the end of the day. We revelled when the sun came out and shrunk into ourselves when it rained, squeezed together under my umbrella. I looked out for her and she made me feel safe. On more than one occasion, as a lone woman, miles from anywhere, I was grateful to have Jess nearby. Her calm demeanour helped to dampen my overactive imagination, particularly my worries about the threat of werewolves whenever we encountered fog.
At the end of a gruelling day Jess was the perfect drinking buddy, in that she didn’t drink, so cost me very little. However her presence, curled up in front of a crackling fire, or begging for pork scratchings from a fellow punter, was a great way to start a conversation. I lost count of the number of times I heard “your dog’s gorgeous, what is she?” I loved being able to tell people that ridgebacks were originally bred to hunt lions. Something about the dichotomy between her fearsome heritage and laid-back demeanour made people smile.
At the start of the trip I had worried over whether Jess would be allowed in the pubs along the way, but we were never turned away, in fact Jess was often shown to the cosiest spot, invariably in front of a fire. At those moments I was happy to tag along as her sidekick and reap the rewards of the best seat in the house.
We made the most of every mode of transport whilst on the coast path, from the steam train that raced alongside the River Dart, to buses and ferries and even a cliff railway at Babbacombe. Jess took each new vehicle in her stride and was soon leaping aboard ferries and jumping on and off buses like an 18 year old backpacker.
For all her poise, Jess did show her hunter’s instincts every now and then. One memorable time she ran full pelt towards the cliff edge after a herd of moth-eaten wild goats near Crackington Haven. Fortunately my panicked shout of “STAY!” stopped her in her tracks as the goats scarpered over a ridge. Another time, while walking through fields near Exmouth, she caught a young rabbit. Appalled, I screeched for her to “DROP IT!” and it bolted down the nearest hole, apparently unscathed. One afternoon, while I was sketching the fishing boats on the shingle shore at Budleigh Salterton, I heard an ominous crack and turned to see Jess treading on a crab. Luckily a nearby fisherman noticed the plight of the crustacean and pulled Jess off it before popping it back into a large blue bin.
Seven years on, I look back at walking the South West Coast Path with Jess as one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. She is nine years old now and starting to go grey around her muzzle, and our walks are no longer measured in miles but minutes. Recently we’ve acquired a new addition to our pack, a miniature dachshund called Peanut who, despite her diminutive size, has boundless energy. While I’m looking forward to rediscovering the South West Coast Path with Pea, seeing it afresh through her eyes, I’ll never forget my 630-mile walk with Jess.
When I launched the revised edition of A Brush With The Coast and its paperback sister, I announced a prize draw - the first 100 people to buy a copy of either book from my online shop would be entered into a hat to win the original South West Coast Path map artwork from the book.
Well, I've drawn the winner and am pleased to say that its Samantha McLennay from Chester.
Thanks to everyone who has bought my books so far, your support is much appreciated and I hope you're enjoying them!
I watched a fascinating documentary on BBC Four last week called ‘The Forger Who Fooled The Nazis’. It told the unbelievable story of a Dutch artist called Han van Meegeren, who managed to fool the artistic establishment into authenticating a series of ‘missing’ Vermeer paintings that he had forged. For me, one of the most fascinating parts of the programme was when they showed his technique. This involved mixing Bakelite with oil paint to replicate the tough veneer of a very old painting, sourcing lapis lazuli and even baking the finished canvas in an oven.
The actual paintings were hideous, with none of the lightness of touch and subtlety of a true Vermeer, but he still managed to fool those in the know. After making millions selling the fakes to institutions and galleries, van Meegeren was eventually unmasked and served just one year in prison. After his death he became a folk hero in the Netherlands, celebrated for his audacious crime.
I’ve been recording my own process recently (no Bakelite involved) using time-lapse videos. Here are a series of images and a video, showing the different stages of one of my paintings. Once I’ve drawn out the image onto the canvas with a soft pencil I put a very thin wash of acrylic paint over the surface to fix the pencil and knock back the white gesso. Next, I block in the underpainting with acrylic paint. Using acrylic for the initial blocking-in means I don’t have to wait for it to dry over days, as I would if I used only oil paint.
And so to the best bit: adding all the details, tweaking the colours and refining the overall composition in oil. It sounds straightforward, and it is, sometimes, but more often than not a missing piece of the puzzle throws the whole process. It could be the composition, the colours, the tones, even my mood. For every painting that goes like clockwork there are three that end up facing the wall!
At least - unlike Van Meegeren - I don’t have the added worry of having to pop my finished canvases into a hot oven before persuading important-looking men with beards that my painting is a missing masterpiece by a 17th century Dutch artist.
Recently I’ve been concentrating on this little 12 x 12” painting of a quirky shop overlooking Mousehole harbour. It is one of twenty paintings that I am going to be working on over the winter for a show next summer. I’ve given myself plenty of time to paint the show and this forward planning its reaping rewards. Unlike some artists I do not do well under pressure, I flourish when I have buckets of time to think and plan and carefully work out each painting. The theme for the exhibition is the coast between Mousehole and Marazion, with the magnificent St Michael's Mount as a constant focal point. I am looking forward to painting the Mount, as I have done many times before. An added bonus of the exhibition is that my oldest friend is also taking part. She and I have never, in all the years we’ve known each other, exhibited together and I’m really looking forward to seeing our work side by side.
I have a cooked lobster in my freezer that I use for reference when I’m doing a painting that has a lobster in it. Over the years he (or she) has starred in quite a few of my works, most recently a rock pool painting where he is intimidating a blenny. I love lobsters, I love eating them but mostly I love drawing them. They are an artist's dream: the claws, the beady eyes, the sweep of the antennae (with which they smell and feel their surroundings). When I’m painting a lobster I relish putting in the spots and spikes that cover the shell. Drawing a lobster is a challenge because of the intricate face (is that the right way to describe a lobster's visage?). There are all sorts of appendages and mouth parts as well as the antennae that force you to really look and study how it all works.
Every now and then, when I am rooting about in my freezer looking for something for supper I’ll come across the lobster, wrapped up tight in cling film, and get him out to draw. Each time he gets more whiffy, but he is holding up well and I’m sure he has a few more paintings in him yet.
Those of you that have read my blog over the years will know that September is my absolute favourite time of year. The first day of the month feels like a new beginning to me, a fresh start. One of my sisters explained that it was that back to school feeling that is so ingrained in us of all that brings on the thoughts of endless possibilities. I’m not so sure, I only remember feeling dread at the start of new term. Anyway, for whatever reason I am fired up and feeling really inspired as the leaves start to change colour and the nights draw in.
One of my latest paintings is a real departure from my usual coastal themes. Not only is the subject matter different but I’ve painted it in oils rather than my usual acrylic. Peanut and the Bull is an idea I’ve had for over a year. The bull is called Foggy and he is a familiar face on my morning dog walks. Although he is huge he has a calm, placid personality and I’ve grown very fond of him. I loved the idea of him and Peanut (my miniature sausage dog) looking at each other. I must say I am thrilled with how it has turned out and now I’m thinking of doing a series of the two of them.
Happy Spring everyone. I’m sorry for my long absence. I’ve been moving house, albeit only a few feet into my garden! It’s very odd to be able to look over my old house with its new occupants. I now have a brand new studio with a view over tree tops. When I open the door in the morning I’m hit by the smell of linseed oil and white spirit, an aroma that takes me back to my college years.
I’ve decided to return to my first love, oil paint. I grew up using oils but it’s been a long time since I’ve had to wash my brushes at the end of the day with copious amounts of soap and turps. That smell. It reminds me of my grandmother's studio, a proper studio, with rags and pots of brushes and drying paintings stacked against the wall. There is something magical about oil paint, all the history, the buttery feel of it, the shine on the canvas. I feel as if I’ve come home.
In other news, I’m having a show with my two sisters, Sophie and Bess, at the end of the month. It’s very exciting to be showing next to two such talented gals. The show is at The Mulberry Tree Gallery in Swanage, our home town. No doubt the weekend of the private view will include long walks, swims and the odd pint with old friends.
One more thing, I’ve spent the last year or so revising my first book A Brush with the Coast, I’ve made it into a smaller format, so easier to pop in a rucksack, and added more images and text. I'm absolutely thrilled with it. Hopefully it will be available to buy within the next month.
Although Christmas is still a little while away, I'm afraid I can't wait any longer... my new range of three Christmas cards is available to buy exclusively in my online shop now!
To celebrate, I'm running a competition over on Instagram, where if you follow me and tag two friends on my original post you'll be in with a chance to win this little 5 x 5 inch painting below. The competition closes at midnight on Tuesday 23rd October, and the winner will be announced soon after, so head over to my Instagram page to enter!
I've been busy this weekend creating a time lapse video of my painting process. I've done lots of research and got the kit I need, and I'm thrilled with the result, so there'll be more of these in the future. Follow me on Instagram to see them as they happen!