Imagination changes the world

'So be wise, because the world needs more wisdom. And if you cannot be wise, pretend to be someone who is wise, and then just behave like they would.

And now go, and make amazing, glorious and fantastic mistakes. Break rules. Leave the world more interesting for your being here. Make good art.'


I had managed to sneak into the front row of at an event held at East London's newest and wonderful arts venue, Evolutionary Arts Hackney. And standing on the stage almost right before me, was the author Neil Gaiman, reading out his now renowned speech, 'Make Good Art'.

With his trademark black clothes and wild, slightly greying hair, he had a rock-star presence. The audience around me were sparkling with awe, thrilled to be in the room with him, and yet his demeanour was humble and gentle.

Behind him, sitting at a little desk, was illustrator Chris Riddell, scribbling away beneath a camera that was beaming his work onto a large screen, illustrating Gaiman's words. He drew with a black pencil, sharpened to a long point with a blade. His strokes on the page had the assured confidence of a person who never stops drawing, who has a comfortable relationship with his art.

The two have collaborated, and created a book called
Art Matters, Because Your Imagination Can Change The World.

Like, wow.

And so, we were gathered to hear them both talk about these ideas.

Sitting there in the soft gloom of the grand, crumbling auditorium, I was filled with a magical hum of excitement. It felt like we were all part of a little rebel army, intent on shining light into darkness, through the wonder of art in all its forms.

Yes my friends – you can change the world.

Pearl

The smell of colour

It was the first time I had shared a piece of writing with my bi-weekly writing group.

Even though the other members always offer fair and constructive criticism, I had to work to keep my voice strong from behind my laptop screen.

I read out a piece I wrote for this blog last year, about working backstage at the theatre. And the others said some great things. For example, that they felt they were really there. That the nature of the piece was cinematic. A couple of people picked up on some turn of phrases I'd used that they liked.

But one thing I'd forgotten to add in was a description of smell. It's true that I usually think very visually. And sound is always a big part of working at an opera house, obviously. But smell... I tend to forget about that one.

The next night while I was at work, I kept checking in to see what things smelt like.

Hot dust around the stage lanterns. The waxy, floral perfume of make-up. The thick and cloying, boiled-sugar smell of stage blood. Hair spray and deodorant in the dressing rooms. Freshly laundered costumes. Instant coffee in the kitchen. The slightly mouldering scent of an old parasol prop.

It was a fun experiment, which led me to wonder if smell is something that can be ascribed to colour.

I love the smell of my paints – they have rich, slightly chalky, oily scents. But does cadmium red smell slightly spicy? Does Prussian blue bring to mind the earthy, water-lily smells of a moonlit lake? Does chrome yellow smell like a zesty, sun-bleached afternoon? Magenta, like a massive bowl of curling rose petals?

Probably not, but in my mind they do, and it's been interesting to take note of how much a smell can influence a mood. Maybe one day, they really will make scented paints.

Pearl

The magic of finding treasure

'The job of the artist is to find treasure in the trash,' says mentor Jamie Catto - or words to that effect.

This really struck a chord with me. I am always interested in the discarded, the lost and the overlooked.

As such, I am often unconsciously scanning the ground for little nuggets of inspiration. Foil hearts, missing earrings, foreign coins, pretty feathers, crushed flowers – these sorts of things turn up often. I'll have a little ponder about the stories behind these objects, and sometimes, this will lead to new ideas for creative projects. 

Recently, a small card blew across my path. In the sunlight, I saw a tiny painting of a luminous figure. So I stooped and picked it up. I turned the card over and was intrigued to find that this was the business card of an artist who is based in Los Angeles. Later that night, I looked her up on the internet, and I felt an affinity with the work – as if it came from a similar world to the creatures that inhabit my own imagination.

So I fired off an email, to see if this artist happened to be visiting my town.

A day or so later, I received a reply:

Hello Pearl,
What a lovely email to receive! I am not certain how my card ended up in your town, but am tickled that it did. I myself have not made it out to the UK just yet, but I like that a piece of my art has.
It's lovely to "meet" you. I looked at your website - what charming, delightful and strange work (strange in the best kind of way...). Glad our paths crossed, after looking through your website, I feel as if we are kindred spirits. I've signed up for your email list, and would like to stay in touch. One can never have too many artist or magic friends!

All the best,
Liz

This is the first time a found object has led me to 'meeting' a new person, and I think this is rather wonderful! 

Pearl 

Stitching magic

Ethereal, delicate, raw, exquisite, dream-like, gossamer...

...some of the words that come to mind when I think of the internationally renowned fashion designer Abe Hamilton's work.

Last weekend, I was thrilled to spend a bit of time with Abe himself, who happens to be a friend of a friend.

He brought along a chic black portfolio, stuffed to the gills with photographs, press clippings and magazine shoots for me to have a look through.

'It all started with some pressed daisies that I had collected in Spain,' said Abe, 'and the inspiration just flowed from there.'

It was a such a beautiful treat to wade through the portfolio and immerse myself in this gorgeous world of magical elegance.

And it seems that fashion isn't Abe's only passion – as you can see from the amazing cake that he baked for us!

Pearl 

Your playful heart

Jim Carrey came up in conversation today.

 Zany, goofy, keerrrayyzeee.... and spiritual?

He is, in my opinion, an artist who has struck gold when it comes to discovering the magic of wisdom.

Here's five minutes of Jim Carrey-style inspiration for you:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sIg4wVNqoM

Pearl  

Creative courage

I've been struggling with a bit of artist's block lately. 

It's always a little disconcerting when this happens.

You just have to exhale and act cool, and hope that your creative muse will think you're not too bothered. It's an exercise in trust, really – most artists will have found themselves dealing with this many times.

You just have to develop the faith that sooner or later, you will be moved back to your easel, your computer, or whatever your tool of choice happens to be.

There is a general sense that this is a 'dead' time of year, when business is slow, people are languishing in post holiday blues and the 'feel good factor' is in short supply.

But over the weekend, I happened to notice that there is evidence to the contrary.

Flowers, new shoots, and vibrant berries are parading themselves on the trees – defiant and victorious over wintery challenges. I thought, wow - they are so courageous.

And so, I came home and got out my paints and brushes.

Pearl 

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