Tag: Hands

Art Out West

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Map of the open studios art trail
Small linocuts in a window display

I enjoyed making the background wallpaper for this window display. It’s inspired by a house move when I was about three years old. The new house’s wallpaper was all atomic design; my bedroom had pink and yellow ovals on a grey background. The kitchen was red, yellow and black. That was the first room to be redecorated with pale blues etc, but I preferred the original patterns.

My studio is whichever space is available at the moment, not particularly welcoming for any visitors. Pondering how to put a window exhibition together made me a bit nostalgic for previous studios. The lingering scent of dead pigeons in the roof; tin baths catching the raindrops falling from above. Sharing printing presses with people who left fingerprints on everything(!) There was a lot of admin to help out with in a studio building, the office area was usually warmer so it would be a haven of bustling activity.

There’s also the notion of being a local artist. That’s quite a difficult term, often used as an insult. I’ve lived here for 25 years but I’m not really local. A Radio 4 programme about blood types informed me that I’m part of the same group as some historic invaders. This area is known as ‘The Little England Beyond Wales’, even though the incomers seemed to be Flemish. I’ve never heard any Belgian people chatting around here (so far).

Anyway, these prints gathered together made me realise how many feature hands. Someone asked me if I could draw hands, so I drew a few. Then they asked “but what are linocuts used for?”, so the wallpaper design was to make that clear. What next? I might attempt to put my novel into the right order. It’s about an artist moving to Wales, even though their friends say that’s the same as being dead…

Tiny hand

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Linocut tiny hand with larger hand

Twenty five years ago I took a few photos of my firstborn’s hand on my hand. Since then I’ve made drawings from the least blurry pictures, and transferred one of those to a little piece of lino. Sketches and lino blocks go missing during house moves and home improvement projects.

Finally, after years of dithering, I have cut enough of this lino to make a test print. It might benefit from more little dots in the background and a different colour ink but that’s for another day.

Lino block with test print

Mothering Sunday

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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…