Maverick in heels
I imagine most people might think of a street artist as some young thug in a hoodie with a spray-can.
But let me introduce you to my friend Sarah Gillings.
When this tour-de-force mother-of-four became disillusioned with a high-flying, globe-trotting, stilettos-and-briefcase career in marketing and advertising, she quit her job. And after a period of figuring things out, she took herself off to university.
Two years ago, she graduated from an MA in Inclusive Arts Practice with a First Class Honours and a burning aspiration to use art as a tool to bring about positive social change within the community.
Now a (legal!) street artist in her own right working under the acronym S.o.S., Sarah has also set up 'U Can Spray', a registered charity that sets out to engage and inspire young people - particularly 16-24 year-olds who aren't in education, employment or training.
'Therapeutic and inclusive art practice through positive spray-painting is a powerful communicator that breaks down barriers and builds bridges,' says Sarah. 'We are passionate about inspiring anyone who’s been told they can’t -we want them to experience how they CAN, through our collaborations, workshops and in-house programs.'
Well, I for one am inspired. If you are too and would like to know more, click this link:
www.ucanspray.org
Pearl
Sacred space
My brother is an avid practitioner of the Japanese Martial Art, Aikido.
The space his club use for training is a somewhat draughty hall, with green rubber mats on the floor and a black and white photo of the art-form's founder, Morihei Ueshiba, hung on the wall.
It might not look like much to the casual observer, but this hall is most definitely a sacred space. It's called a 'dojo', which literally translates into 'place of the way'.
Upon entering, students will remove their shoes and perform a short bow. This bow is a mark of respect for the training environment, the sensei, and for the other students.
I have to admit, whenever I take a class there, I feel self-conscious performing the bow and yet I really love the fact that it is the custom, and the reasons why.
Meanwhile, my new art studio is finally up and running. It's been a long time since I've had a dedicated space for my work, and I feel so lucky and excited to have it. To me, it's also a sacred space that deserves to be honoured.
I'm not sure if I'll go so far as to bow every time I enter... but then again, maybe I will!
Pearl
Panther lady
The UK doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving, but my mum is American, and so we had a little Thanksgiving dinner.
After dinner, my dad wanted to show me something he had recorded on the TV for me. It was a Jonathon Ross interview with Grace Jones.
When she made her entrance, all dressed in black, she was 100% fabulous as the audience applauded her. They were only seconds into the interview when Jones suddenly sprang up onto Ross's desk, snarling like a panther as she swiped at his face.
'Oh!' she cried as she settled back into her seat, laughing. 'My heart!'
'Well what about mine?' countered Ross. 'I nearly shat myself!'
What an inspiration she is. Endlessly creative, endlessly pushing the boundaries, always authentic.
I'll have some of whatever she's having.
Pearl
A sticky situation
I'm not a collage artist.
But I found this old sketchbook while I was unpacking. It's filled with colours, textures and composition ideas from found objects, torn pages from magazines and scraps.
New ideas spring from playing around and experimenting.
I've seen some colour palettes here I'd like to explore in a painting idea... we'll see!
Pearl
Drawing a line
It's been far too long since I've done any life drawing.
Drawing from a live human body is like going to the gym for artists. To be honest I don't really enjoy it. The concentration makes me tired and there's no room to use your imagination.
But, when I keep up the practice, the improvement in my own work is undeniable.
So I'm looking for a local class that will, hopefully, stretch me in the ways I am looking to be challenged.
The best classes I ever went to were when I signed up an evening course in drawing at a local college in London. Each week, the tutor would come up with more and more inventive ways to get you out of your comfort zone.
Exercises included, not taking your eyes off the model as you drew – no checking your work! Not lifting your pencil from the page – just one continuous line to get down all the information. But the best was when he handed out six-foot long bamboo poles with a teabag attached to the end. This was to be our drawing instrument.
This was all fantastic, because there was no way you could create a perfect drawing using these techniques. You were forced to forget about the outcome and just get really involved in the process of observing and making marks.
And when I went back to creating my own work, I couldn't believe how much depth and power my drawing had taken on.
It kind of goes to show – when you take some risks and get uncomfortable, you give yourself the opportunity to really experience something new.
Pearl
Electric magic
'Dude, it gets even wilder.'
Eli was delving into my laptop, uncovering the bottomless layers of creativity that can be explored in Photoshop.
'Wow,' I said, eyes popping. 'That effect looks just like oil pastel...'
I don't think I would ever pack away my brushes and twisted tubes of paint, with their lids that won't quite screw on properly. Nothing can replace the smell of linseed oil, the feel of ink-stained hands or watching layers of living, breathing colour build up on your page or canvas.
But there's an amazing, magical wizardry that can be spun out with technological tools.
I'll always remember the musician Bjork, in an interview from years ago saying something like, 'I'm not afraid to use computers. People say that technology is somehow fake, but to me it is still the real thing. It uses the natural energy of electricity and it is still about creativity, and that's all that matters.
I have to say, I'm inclined to agree.
Pearl
Breaking new ground
It's taken four days of Olympian effort and some much appreciated help, but my new studio is emerging from the chaos – very exciting!
Tomorrow my wonderful friend Eli, a former artist for Pixar, will be coming over to teach me some digital painting techniques.
I still work almost exclusively with 'real life' materials, but I don't want to shy away from exploring what techniques can be applied with the help of modern technology.
I am curious and excited. I will report back!
Pearl
Crazy dreamer
As I unpack my boxes, I am combing through my life.
And as I am diligently offloading anything that doesn't need to to stay (and sorting out my internet connection - apologies for missed post!) it's nice to take a bit of time to appreciate the things which are precious.
An old boyfriend gave me this book. It's a 19th Century edition of Don Quixote, with utterly fantastic illustrations by Gustave Doré.
'Keep believing in your dreams,' says the card inside, 'even if everyone else thinks your crazy.'
Pearl
A person in boxes
Everything I own has been packed into a million boxes.
Yesterday was hectic. Today I will be moving to a new place, to begin a new era.
Living in an age where we often define ourselves by what we own, it's been interesting to go through all the things have collected and, more interestingly, decided to keep. There's a lot of stuff with some sentimental value - a tenuous link to some memory or other.
Quite overwhelmingly though, I've had a feeling of wanting to cast it all off. To clear my space and psyche of 'stuff' that could be weighing me down in more ways that one. I plan to be quite brutal when unpacking at the other end.
There's this idea that in the end, you can't take any of your possessions with you... so maybe it's time to think about some ideas of defining Who I Am without the accoutrements to prop up a self-image.
Pearl
A magpie's treasure
A friend of mine is a magpie with excellent taste.
She collects children's illustrated books that she finds in charity shops. She has found some amazing gems.
I have consistently forgotten the check the children's books in charity shops for years now, but of course, what a wonderful resource for inspiration.
My friend's most recent find is a book called 'Romany Free', published in 1974. The story, written by Robert Vavra, has been woven around paintings by the artist Fleur Cowles.
I have been loaned the book to have a look through, and the illustrations are absolutely gorgeous.
Pearl
Keeping mum
Remembrance Sunday had all the hallmarks of a beautiful November day.
A low-hung, freezing cold, bright sun. Long, sharp shadows. Yellow leaves and smatterings of red poppies.
My feeling is that art has a big part to play in the grim game of war. From photography, to propaganda, to several pieces of theatre I've seen recently that have commented on contemporary warfare.
But there's something about WW2 British propaganda posters that I find particularly arresting. There's something strangely nostalgic about them, even though I never experienced the era.
My favourite is this one, created by artist Harold Forster, who was known for his illustrations on pre-war Black Magic chocolate boxes.
The slogan seems quite chauvinistic in today's context, but I'm just captivated by the female figure. She looks a little bit like she could have been either of my fabulously glamorous grandmothers.
Pearl
The magic of winter
Flaming winter sunsets are absolutely glorious.
The past few days have been grey and drizzly but I caught this earlier in the week.
I'm sensing a collective sigh of resignation as winter begins to sink its teeth in just a little. Cold, hard, dark months are around the corner and there is a feeling of contraction, shrinking in, hunched shoulders.
But I would assert that winter can be a wonderful time for creativity. Sure, the summer is great – but when it's bright and warm it seems to me that the consciousness rises up to more of a surface level. Holidays, barbecues, slip-slopping around in flip-flops.
But winter is deep, still, magical. Time to drop back down into the realms folklore, fairytales, mysticism and beguiling fantasy...
Pearl
Magical indulgences
I'm going to be completely honest with you. I am quite drunk.
So I'm not sure if I will be able to fashion a post of searing insight and glittering inspiration for you today.
But a wonderful friend of mine, a very capable lady of a respectable age who manages her own business like a boss grown-up, has totally made my day with this message:
Life can be very tough and it is very short. Sometimes you have to say to yourself, "Damn it, I work hard for my money. I pay my taxes. I give to charities and once in a while I deserve a treat. Today is that day. Today is the day that these Tesco My Little Pony pyjamas are coming home with me".
I firmly believe that you are never too old for a bit of glittery magic – just check out the Disney Princess breakfast cereal in my cupboard.
Pearl
Angel With Lute
I had a poster of this painting on my wall when I was a teenager.
I remember a friend of mine coming over to visit me. I felt this friend was quite a bit cooler than me, because she was older, had multi-coloured dreadlocks and wore very tiny shorts.
She was in my room, and for some reason I felt embarrassed about the Angel With Lute poster, and so I made a disparaging joke about it.
'Why?' she said. 'I think it's lovely.'
And I remember feeling a bit taken aback. In the same moment, I was impressed that she liked the painting, and I was impressed with myself for having something I didn't realise was 'cool' on my wall. It was a lesson in learning to trust my own judgement.
An interesting thing about art is that it can reveal aspects of people - including yourself - that you didn't know.
I recently found this poster while helping my dad clear out his attic. I'm going to put it up again.
Pearl
Angel With Lute by Rosso Forentino
The magic of fantastic
Pushing my way through weekend crowds, I could feel that dark cloud of unjustifiable frustration rising.
When everyone is dawdling but you just want to take off in your imaginary Ferrari on a clear, open road.
I glanced up and saw this graffitied slogan. It burst that cloud and made me smile. To whoever climbed up there, hung over the edge of the building and sprayed this on – you must be a Magic Hunter. Thanks :)
Pearl
Remember, remember...
I was staying in a house four miles away from the celebrations, yet the ba-boooms from the fireworks were still boomy enough to make the building shake.
Ever since the 1820s, and in a ramshackle way even earlier, the Sussex town of Lewes has become famous for its rowdy and fiery celebrations on November 5th, to mark Guy Fawkes's foiled gun-power plot to blow up the House of Lords in 1605. Lewes Bonfire also commemorates the memory of seventeen Protestant martyrs who were burned for their faith at the stake in Lewes during the Marian Persecutions.
The yearly ritual sees literal rivers of fire pouring through the narrow cobbled streets as seven rival bonfire societies come together and process through the town, carrying aloft flaming torches or crosses. The members wear spectacular costumes, many of which have been passed down through the generations. In between the marching bands, gigantic effigies of 'enemies of the bonfire', are wheeled along, which are doomed to get blown up later in the evening.
Crowds press along the routes, their faces lit up in firelight. Children sit perched on parents' shoulders wearing glow-sticks fashioned into necklaces or headbands, and people shriek and laugh as Bonfire members light 'rookies' and toss them towards the spectators' feet, where they explode with heaven-splitting bangs.
The pageantry, flames, fireworks debris fluttering through the air, the noise and the smell of burning paraffin are all very evocative, stirring up a thrilling sense of ash-streaked rebellion.
Unfortunately, I can't stand the rookies... so I usually choose to watch the displays from the safety of a nearby hill!
Pearl
Magic in a noodle bar
We were in a Japanese noodle bar, somewhere in North London.
It wasn't one of the slick ones you see everywhere now, all stripped bamboo wood and an elegant floor plant by the door.
We're talking orange formica-topped tables, sticky soy sauce bottles and luminous lighting.
She came out of the toilet just as my noodles were slipping off my chopsticks again. She strode past our table in stone-washed, torn jeans and a black leather jacket. I watched over the edge of my bowl as she made her way towards a guy who was sitting by the window with a huge dog in a studded collar, and it quickly became clear that the dog was hers.
They didn't stay for long – he paid the bill – but when they left, the door rattled behind them and I resolved to paint her.
Pearl
Beauty and the beasts
A few years ago, I found myself at London fashion week.
I certainly wasn't in the front row, but I could clearly see the faces on the other side of the catwalk, familiar from the pages of high-end glossy fashion magazines. Among them was the renowned ice-queen Anna Wintour, the editor of US Vogue. Her face was an unsmiling mask of groomed perfection, the white glare of the catwalk reflecting in her glittering dark glasses.
The atmosphere was high and tight as we all sat perched on tiny seats, casting quick, sideways glances at each other. At one end of the catwalk, a literal heap of photographers lay in wait. Many of them were balancing on precarious ladders with enormous, heavy and expensive-looking equipment slung about their bodies.
Finally, with an explosion of light and a roar of music, the models emerged and began to pound down the runway. They were wearing gossamer light, ghostly clothes that floated and rippled against their long and lean limbs.
But I was shocked at how young and fragile the girls appeared. They were like fawns freshly captured from the forest – idealised examples of unspoiled glossy beauty, stalking like herons on their delicate, stilt-like legs. They were marching straight towards the slavering jaws of the wolf-like pack of photographers, and in response, the flash bulbs feverishly popped and flickered in a relentless, blazing barrage.
Very quickly, it was all over. All around me, people were getting up and clambering out of their seats, while I sat for a moment longer, trying to absorb the experience.
It's something that's stayed with me – that interesting and slightly disturbing dichotomy of vulnerability, dressed up and presented as fierce bravado.
Pearl
The magic of courage
A friend forwarded the image below to me via Instagram, and I love it.
Something about the way the creature is looming out of the darkness – with that scary-yet-non-threatening demeanour, takes me right back to childhood feelings.
I've spent a bit of time digging around on Google, but so far I haven't been able to track down who the artist is. I don't think the person who painted this put the image together with the words, but I like the sentiment – it's something to keep in mind.
:)
Pearl
