I saw a group of swans chasing each other on the Mill Pond near Pembroke castle. One rescued another from the violent attentions of a third swan. Third swan floated away looking reasonably dignified. Then the first two stroked their necks together and caressed in a heart shape.
From my scruffy sketches and some blurry photos I cut a lino block. I wasn’t pleased with it, put it aside and didn’t see it again for about five years.
Made some test prints, it’s not that bad really.
This clay has been waiting for a while. It had dried too much so I put it into a plastic box and watered it. Emptying the box this morning, I spotted a little snail that had been lurking with some friends under the outside edge. It peered over the edge of the box, clearly planning to wander into the pile of clay. I took the snail outside so it could eat some weeds. Then I quickly scraped all of the remaining clay onto hessian and put the empty box out in the rain.
Kneading clay is similar to preparing dough, but at the moment it’s much squelchier.
Mothering Sunday is when people from little village churches gather together in the mother church of the area, usually a cathedral.
Also a day to celebrate mothers. You don’t need a special day for that, do you? When I was a child I liked a story about Peachling, who was found inside a fruit. The peach was floating along in a stream. An elderly couple were walking nearby. They were very contented but often wished they had been able to share their happiness with some children.
They retrieved the beautiful peach from the water and took it home to eat. When they cut it in half they were shocked to discover a tiny human inside. They named him Peachling and cared for him as if they had given birth to him. The old woman sewed clothing for him, the old man made his shoes. They taught him everything they knew. Nobody questioned where the peach tree he’d fallen from might be.
My father laughed when telling this story: “Peachling must have been a spoilt brat!”.
Peachling grew up, eventually it was time for him to go and find his future. I was surprised that he could just leave with a bag tied to the end of a stick, the story didn’t describe his plans or tell where he was going. The old couple were very sad but pleased they’d had the opportunity to help him grow.
Both of my parents were wistful when they said that nobody appreciates their parents until much later…
A drawing from a photo I took in 1995. I scrawled a sketch at the same time but then Firstborn woke up.
Two small lino blocks (10 x 10cm and 10 x 8cm). I found a battered piece of Japanese paper to test them on, maybe the creases will smooth out later.
A small print (A6 postcard) that involved a lot of cutting. The background wasn’t planned but cutting lines into lino gets quite mesmerising.
While looking for card to print on, I found a long-lost piece of brown lino with a baby carved in a star. My favourite son is 21 so maybe this block has been in a box since we moved away from Birmingham in 1998.
The patterns around the star are made from the zigzagging movements when trying to hack into old lino. I’ll see how it prints later…
berry daines 