The magic of the infinite spectrum

Years of slumping over a drawing desk or standing at an easel have given me some back trouble.

I went to see an osteopath who sent me away with a stack of exercises to do twice a day. To keep my mind occupied while bending and stretching, I listened to a TED talk that someone had posted on social media. It's by Anil Seth and is called,
'Your Brain Hallucinates Your Conscious Reality'.

The basic gist, is that your brain doesn't actually know what's real or not – all it can do is take in the information delivered by your senses, and then come up with its best guess as to what it actually is that you're experiencing.

As a species, we have all agreed on what 'reality' is. We have taken a narrow parameter within the infinite spectrum of 'what is', and we have decided that we will function within these limits.

My hunch is that there is far more to be explored when it comes to 'what is'. Some people do this by taking drugs, or meditating.

I do it by engaging with art.

Maybe if I engaged in art intensely enough, I can change the reality of my back?!

Pearl

The magic of madness

'I feel like sometimes you have to block out real life,' I said to a friend recently over coffee.

'It's like, there are all of these forces telling you to be sensible, to get real, to stop believing in dreams, or madness. But you have to find a way to exist on a different plane, where anything is possible, before you can start to forge a relationship with your creativity.'

I was once gifted a beautiful edition of Don Quixote, under the instruction that I should use it as a reminder to believe in madness.

And then, more recently, I came across a book called The War of Art, by Steven Pressfield. Described as 'nothing less than the Sun-Tzu for the soul', I would recommend this book to anyone who is looking to 'seize the creative potential of your life'.

In it, Pressfield quotes Socrates, in Plato's Phaedrus, on the 'noble effect of heaven-sent madness':

'The third type of possession and madness is possession by the Muses. When this seizes upon a gentle and virgin soul, it rouses it to inspired expression in lyric and other sorts of poetry, and glorifies countless deeds of heroes of old for the instruction of posterity. But if a man comes to the door of poetry untouched by the madness of the Muses, believing that technique alone will make him a good poet, he and his sane compositions never reach perfection, but are utterly eclipsed by the performances of the inspired madman.'

So, rest assured if you ever find yourself feeling a bit crazy...

Pearl

This painting is available for sale - click here for more details

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 

The story of a magic hat

A new person has now been introduced to the magic of theatre - my nephew. Performances of The Boy, The Piano and The Beach took place over the bank holiday weekend.

Slot Machine Theatre, a collection of lovely, inspiring and passionate people, were behind the creation of the show, and they wanted to make something high-end and magical for children.

Set to a programme of live classical piano music, the story told of how a little boy found a magic hat that took him into another world.

I was on board in the capacity of an artist. I designed the character for The Boy, created sketches for the rehearsals, and drew a 12-frame 'graphic novel' based on the story, which went into the programme.

The show was pitched at kids aged six and up, but we took a risk and brought along my four-year-old nephew.

It was really fun to watch him watching the show, because he was clearly captivated. The kids were all sitting on mats in front of the performance space, and by the end of the show, my nephew had crawled into the front row.

His eyes were alight with wonder and at the end, he didn't want to leave.

I've had some insight into how much effort, patience and emotion went into creating the piece, from all of the contributors – not just the performers. So it was really rewarding to see how much it was enjoyed.

This is how all artists dream that their work will be received! And to be honest, this is absolutely the best part about working as an artist. Because every now again, I have witnessed that same spark of wonder in an adult's eyes when they are looking at one of my pieces. It's as if they have put on a magic hat, and gone into another world. And then I think to myself, my work here is done.

Pearl

The magic of shyness

'The way you overcome shyness is to become so wrapped up in something that you forget to be afraid.'

When I was sixteen, I wrote this quote from Claudia Alta "Lady Bird" Johnson into my little book of inspiration. Wracked with shyness, I was looking for a solution, and this seemed like a good idea. It's something that I've kept in mind ever since.

When I get out of my own way, and make sure it's all about the work and not me, I find I can surprise myself with what I can accomplish. You step across comfort-zone barriers, and afterwards you look back and think, that wasn't so bad.

My artwork has now been exhibited and collected all over the world, I've had the opportunity to meet many amazing people, and I've been on some fantastic adventures. When I look back now, I can see that those years of shyness have given me unique insight and experience that I can now put into my work.

A few weeks ago, I was invited to give a little talk at a marketing event for creative people. I was so nervous as I spoke, that I worried my notes were flapping around like a trapped seagull. But plenty of people came up to tell me how much they had enjoyed listening to what I had written.

Afterwards, it was fun to reflect on how far I have come.

But I certainly don't feel 'cooked' yet. I'm reminded of the actor Matthew  McConaughey's Oscar speech, in which he told a story about how his hero is always himself in ten years' time. I think there's a lot of wisdom in this idea.

Here's to the next ten years.

Pearl

The magic of video

I'm not a natural tech-head, but I recognise that modern technology has a lot to offer (when it works!!)

It's been a while since I've made a time-lapse video, and so I found that when I had another go, I had to teach myself all over again. But I got there in the end.

I posted the video on several social media platforms, and judging by the response I received, it seems that people really enjoyed watching it. So I have a few more videos in the works that I'll post soon.

Meanwhile, I've pasted below a YouTube link to the first one. It's a film of a pen sketch on paper.

This is the type of drawing that I most often do – just doodles straight from my imagination. They don't always work out, but that doesn't matter. I just move on to another one. It's kind of like dancing – you're not really thinking about it too much, and if you throw a slightly wobbly shape every now and again, it's not something to worry about.

This drawing, I think, was inspired by my local park. We've just had a weekend of beautiful weather in my corner of the world, and the flower gardens at the park were looking absolutely gorgeous. It was so nice to see people enjoying them.

Do you like this drawing? Let me know! 

Pearl 

The magic of New York City

‘OK darrlin’, bellowed the large lady at JFK’s Air Shuttle desk. She didn’t look up from under her impressive afro as she handed over a small white card. ‘Here’s your ticket, ‘n I want choo sittin’ right here at a quarter pay-ast. Ok honey?’

‘Thank you,’ I bleated, my economy-travel-worn English accent suddenly sounding very weedy.

Soon enough, I found myself in the back of a black SUV with a sanguine lady from South Africa and a very tense New Yorker. ‘Ain’t no use starin’ at me like that,’ our driver advised him, addressing the rear-view mirror. ‘Won’t get you there no faster, man! You need to chill!’

I turned to look out of the window. A beautiful pink blush was spreading across the early evening sky. The other cars crowding in the road seemed as big as boats, with salt and mud flying up from their spinning wheels. Their drivers all seemed so relaxed – chewing gum, steering with one hand, baseball caps pulled down low.

‘Is that the cops?’ asked the disembodied voice from the illegal station on the radio. ‘No, it ain’t the cops. Ha! Soooooo…. Michael Jackson… Oh, Michael, Michael, Michael!’

Eventually, the cab made its way down a residential street of red brick buildings, and deposited me at my friend Charlie’s empty apartment. I successfully negotiated with the key and the door, and heaved my giant suitcase over the threshold. Then I noticed a note on the floor.

‘Pearl!’ exclaimed the scrawled handwriting, ‘Welcome to the Big Apple! We are Charlie’s neighbours, Shane and Jimmy. Come over to ours, we’re going to get some take-out and a movie!’

I took a quick look in the bathroom mirror. Bloodshot eyeballs gazed back at me, but a little porcelain mermaid perched on a toothbrush holder looked up at me with an encouraging smile.

‘Oh, what the hell…’ I murmured.

I shuffled across the hallway and pressed the neighbour’s buzzer. Almost instantly, the door whipped open and, after I was released from a bear hug, I was welcomed into a warm and beautiful apartment. ‘How ya doin’? You jet lagged? What you fancy? Take-out or you wanna go someplace? Shane, what about that cute little Cuban place? The Cuban place, yeah?’

Everything was coming at me like a steam train through a fog of exhaustion, but I acquiesced to the idea of the Cuban place. And it turned out to be fantastic. Situated right underneath a Subway bridge, all the glasses and cutlery rattled every time a train thundered past overhead. Softly glowing paper lanterns danced about the ceiling, and I looked up at the fading pictures of famous New York City landmarks hanging proudly on the walls.

As I made a start on my gigantic serving of chicken, rice and beans, I began to feel a little more human, and ready to take on one of the greatest places in the world – New York City.      

Pearl

The magic of London

Samuel Johnson's famous quote often comes to mind when I think of London: 'You find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.'

Well, I did leave London... I have to agree with William Shakespeare on this one, when he apparently said, 'nothing in London is certain but expense.' However, I think there is a difference between leaving a place and being tired of it.

I still love to visit London, and so I was thrilled when I was commissioned to create four drawings of the city, each one featuring a different season.

One very wet day in December, I spent the whole day dashing around the city with my phone, taking pictures (and then wiping it dry again.) Despite the heavy, inky clouds and slippery pavements, it was a joy to spend the whole day just looking at the city and getting to know it again, almost like a tourist. Imposing statues of lions and horses loomed overhead, red busses wheezed past through the puddles and gold-gilt railings gleamed through the gloom.

I delivered the commission this week and am delighted to give you a little peek at the drawings.

Any city, town or village will have its own heartbeat, and we all have a relationship to the places that we frequent. It's lovely to pause now and again to become mindful of this.

Pearl

Extraordinary creatures

I've been asked to judge a kids' art competition. The children will have been asked to draw or make the 'most extraordinary creature they can imagine'.

The competition is going to be a part of the Brighton Festival, and the organisers got in touch with me to ask for a little blurb.

As I was composing it, I thought to myself, adults should give themselves the opportunity to have a go at this kind of thing, too.

So, while I don't have any prizes to give out for grownups (this time!) here's what I wrote:

I can't wait to see the entries for our Extraordinary Creatures competition. I'm sure they will all be amazing. In particular though, I will be looking out for an artist who has really put their imagination to the test, and has managed to create something that I might never have seen before!

Inspiration can come from animals or plants that already exist – perhaps you could try combining them and see what happens? Or maybe you have seen a creature in your dreams that you would like to describe with a painting, drawing or sculpture.

What kind of personality will your creation have? Will it be friendly, silly or scary? Does it make a roaring sound? Or maybe it likes to sing songs? Think carefully about what colours you will choose, and whether you would like to work with paint, pencils, crayons, felt-tipped pens – or even pieces of string, wire, fabric or flowers. This is a chance to really let your creativity go wild.
 

Have fun!

Pearl

The magic of fashion

I'm often asked who my favourite artists are. Usually, it isn't other painters or illustrators who immediately spring to mind.

I love to draw inspiration from other art forms, and one of my favourites is fashion.

Yesterday, I went to see the film Westwood: Punk, Icon, Activist, directed by Lorna Tucker.

I was blown away.

Such inspiration! The epitome of eccentricity, fashion designer Vivienne Westwood has blazed straight through the cutting edge - literally, at one point, in a tank. Now aged 76, she is turning her terrifying energy and blunt demeanour towards saving the planet. 

Westwood has said that she has 'behaved like a pirate, plundering ideas and colours from other places and periods.'

Watching the film took me back to my student days, when I was studying theatre design – an art form that borrows from sculpture, architecture, art installation, painting and fashion. Perhaps it is this training that has stuck with me – the idea that inspiration can be lurking around every corner, if you know how to keep your eyes open.

Pearl

The Magic of baddies

The first day of spring passed by earlier this week. Winter is supposed to be vanquished by now. It should be nothing more than a shivery memory!

And yet freezing cold ice and snow has been battering the brave daffodils and crocuses.

The weather made me think of the White Witch of Narnia, who cursed C. S. Lewis's magical kingdom with a 100-year-long winter. And then my mind wondered to various other conniving, psychotic, outrageous, wicked and creepy-scary antagonists.

'I like all of the Disney movies that have the great villains in them,' said actor Jonathan Freeman, who played the voice of evil Jafar in Aladdin. 'I think there is a certain beauty to the Disney Villains. Not every kid wants to be the hero, the heroine, the prince, the princess; there are kids, like myself growing up, who always wanted to be a Disney villain.'

I think there can be something gloriously thrilling about villains. And even when they are at their worst, I'm sure they can help us to understand our own weaknesses, devious foibles and inner anti-heroes.

'From an actor's standpoint,' said Freeman, 'it's really fun to do.'

I think every now and then, it's fine to dabble with the dark side. Just so long as this doesn't mean we'll have to wait too much longer for spring.

Pearl

The magic of coffee

I am not a coffee connoisseur. Caffeine gives me the shakes.

Coffee aficionados look on with horror when I fix myself an instant decaffeinated cup of joe, or use a chicory-based hippy alternative from the health-food shop.

But this afternoon, a friend and I were pressing our noses against a new coffee-shop window in town, which is due to open later in the week. Inside, we could see a hive of industrious activity going on. And then, the owner saw us. To my surprise, he hurried across to the door and invited us in for a free coffee.

Pretty soon, we were being given a grand tour of the premises, which included a giant coffee roaster that looked like a brass steam train.

Of course, I was aware that the guy wanted to make a good impression on potential future customers. But there was something more than that... passion.

Passion is such an over-used, eye-roll inducing word these days. But when you come across the real thing, you know it.

I found myself being drawn in with stories about coffee – the romance, the history, the tales behind the various blends. The way the beans are sourced, selected and washed. The various shades of colours they will turn while they are being roasted. The aromas. The infusion of flavours, the different characters... I'm sure the man could have gone on for days.

I was reminded of a time when I worked for a magazine, and I was interviewing someone about ecological house-paint. Again, the passion was extraordinary and inspiring.

Real passion seems to ignite a sense of mission – a drive to grow and explore that pushes you beyond your comfort zones. That keeps you going long after most people would have thrown in the towel.

I guess it comes down to listening to your heart, and finding a way to connect with whatever it is that you can do for the world.

Whether it's paintings, writing, eco-paint or coffee... passion is magic.

Pearl

The magic of blue fire

I had a birthday recently, and one of my gifts was a gorgeous Labradorite crystal sphere.

As you turn it about in the light, you can see a beautiful, ethereal blue fire slipping about inside of it.

It's things like this that can trigger ideas for paintings. I may feel a desire to try and capture something like this in paint. Perhaps in the billowing folds of some kind of royal figure's floating cloak – an idea of sunlight playing across a fabulously expensive or magical fabric. Or the light of a promising, fresh new dawn flitting through a haunted forest, the sky bright and expectant against spectral black branches.

I think this could be hard to achieve with acrylic paint. With its flat, bold character, acrylic is great for strong, fun effects. Watercolour would be too soft, with its frayed edges and daydream-like quality. Ink likes to play by its own rules of fantastic intensity, contrasted with delicate, lacy, cloud-like fragility.

I think achieving an effect like this would a job for oil paint. With that delicious linseed smell, oils ooze from the tube with a sense of infinite possibilities - if you have the skills. I could see how layering up silk-thin veils of colour with paint thinner or more oil, could begin to build a sense of blue-hued mystery.

Well, I'll keep you posted. It's been a while since I've worked with oils – they may have a good laugh at me, clog up my brushes, and send back to the all-forgiving acrylics instead. We'll see!

Pearl

The Magic of Life And Death

Fifteen years ago, a kitten was born in my East London bedroom, in the back of a guitar amp.

Her doting mum was so proud to introduce me to her tiny, blind, squalling baby. That kitten grew up into a beautiful little tigress with huge green eyes, a smoky plume of a tail and a penchant for secrets.

A few days ago, I was with her again as she took her last breaths. My heart was bust open.

By chance, a friend of mine offered me a spare ticket for the opera that evening. I felt I could do with some distraction and beauty, and so I mopped up my face and boarded a train to London.

I sat in the darkness, and was treated to a gorgeous story told by talented singers, musicians and designers. It was about the life of a man, from beginning to to end.

And it struck me that this is what art is for. It offers us a map to help us chart the stories of our own lives – to understand our experiences and the contexts in which we play out our days.

My cat's days were usually filled with simple pleasures... stalking mice, walking atop fences, sleeping in the sun. I'm not sure if she would have got much from watching an opera or looking at a painting. But these things go some way towards helping me to understand my gratitude for her companionship, and finding serenity in letting her move on.

Pearl

This tiger painting is sold, but if you'd like to have something similar, click below to find out more

The magic of yellow wellies

Tucked away in the heart of London's graffitied East End, there is a little rehearsal studio, with white-washed walls and a glass ceiling.

I tip-toed in, holding a coffee in one hand and a portfolio case of sketchbooks in the other.

Inside, I found a team of three dancers, three directors, and a puppet made out of stuffed baby clothes that was gaffa-taped together. This was the Slot Machine Theatre company, and they were working on devising a new show called The Boy, The Piano and The Beach. It's all about getting kids engaged with classical music, and it's going to premier at the Brighton Festival this May.

I have been contributing to the project as an artist. I have designed the character for The Boy. I came up with about five or six different kinds of boys, but it was the one in the yellow wellies who got the vote of confidence. He's going to be made into a puppet, and I can't wait to see how he is going to turn out.

And on this day, I was called in to create live drawings of the dancers as they worked out how to become the sea – waves, moving water, or surf on pebbles. Later, they were experimenting with ideas for sea monsters. I sat in the corner, scribbling away and tearing through pages as I tried to capture shapes, movement or gestures.

This kind of work is outside of my normal remit, but I have been loving it. Working collaboratively, pitching in with visual thoughts and ideas... it's been a lot of fun.

Slot Machine have been noted by the Observer newspaper for their “dazzling inventiveness... inspired theatre”. I'll post a link below for more info on the show. Could be worth checking out, even if you don't have kids!

Pearl

Dream Walker

It's easy to feel a sense of magical awe when you're standing on the South Downs at night, looking up at the stars.

There's a soft wind, whispering secrets to you that you don't quite understand. You have an awareness of unseen creatures, scampering through the grass or curving through the dark sky on knife-edge wings.

And in the distance maybe, you can see the twinkling lights of the town.

When I lived in the city, I struggled sometimes with finding these moments of supernatural stillness. With the relentless noise, speed and never-ending light in your eyes, my mind always felt whipped up into some kind of sparkling frenzy.

These days, I am interested in exploring the possibilities for a sense of – for want of a better word – spirituality in urban environments. I still love to visit the city and a few times while there, I've had experiences similar to the ones I have on the Downs.

For example, standing on the Hungerford Bridge and looking out towards St Paul's Cathedral, watching the red lights of construction cranes dancing over the glittering buildings below. Wind blowing in off the Thames, tickling its fingers through your hair. Glimpsing moments of love, friendship or laughter in the people around you. Fantastic architecture soaring above you, standing as irrefutable testament that dreams can conquer challenges. The thrum of energy pulsing through the air and rumbling under your feet.

The magic is always there.

Pearl

This painting is for sale. For more details, please click here

The magic of thieving

'Good artists copy; great artists steal.'

Apple Mac inventor Steve Jobs famously stole this line from Picasso when he spoke about inspiration. 'It comes down to trying to expose yourself to the best things that humans have done,' he explained, 'and then trying to bring those things into what you are doing... we (at Apple) have always been shameless about stealing great ideas.'

And, like a magpie, I always have an eye out for gems and trinkets that I can incorporate into my artwork to move it along to the next level. For example, Egon Schiele's twisted turn of line. Gerald Scarfe's gleefully mischievous ink spatters. Fashion designer Alexander McQueen's dark glamour. The deep royal purple in a crocus petal.

As an art student, the almost sacred ritual of working in a sketchbook was drummed into us. 'You should always be looking,' the tutors told us, 'and recording inspiration. Ideas come from outside of you.'

So when I was trying to think of story ideas the other day, I was bemused to catch myself literally gazing out of a window and waiting for inspiration to strike from out of the blue. Why would other forms of creation be any different to creating visual art? Even Shakespeare is renowned for reinventing stories that were already around.

So I decided to give myself a little bit of slack for not having dreamt up something searingly original using nothing but my own brain. And I have bought a little notebook which is solely dedicated to recording story inspiration.

Pearl

The morning after

Sometimes I miss being younger, and sometimes I don’t… this old piece of writing reminded me why!

The grey light of dawn peeked through the gap in the curtains, and found me already awake.

With glum resignation, I had to accept that the night had passed without sleep. The rest of the house had finally fallen quiet after a reckless house party had galloped out of control. It had culminated messily when two friends of mine, both dressed in drag and looking fabulous, had to roll up their blouse sleeves and heave a bunch of trouble-makers out the front door by the hair.

With a sigh, I knew that downstairs, amid the comatose bodies of sleeping revellers, the house would still be festooned in party debris. My mind wondered over the smashed lights, footmarks on the walls, wine and glitter all over the floor, the stair banister that had been pulled away from the wall and the kitchen sink that was blocked with cigarette stubs and a pork pie.

The reek of alcohol and stale smoke was seeping in under my bedroom door like some kind of insidious creature. I decided to sneak away now, while everyone was still sleeping, to clear my head. The floorboards creaked with surprise at seeing me up so early as I moved about, pulling on the winter layers.

I closed the front door shut behind me as quietly as I could, and with relief, sucked in a lungful of fresh air. The streets were deserted, and as I set off down the road, my footsteps echoed off the buildings. Stray litter danced happily here and there in a gust of freezing wind.

I headed towards a recreation ground. It was fringed in tall, naked winter trees, and I followed a footpath that ran alongside a river. A couple of swans slid slowly and elegantly on the black water, regarding me regally. A bit further on, a crowd of black rooks blew up into a squawking cloud when I disturbed them.

The path meandered up a slippery and muddy hill, through clawing, thorny hedges. I emerged at the top, and paused to take in some lovely views over the town. A little further on, I found a small church nestling under huge trees. I walked around to the back of it, and pushed open a tiny rusty gate that led into a graveyard. I strolled through overgrown, frosty grass as I wondered over mysterious names and dates on the lichen-smothered headstones.

I came to a stop at a stout, flint wall. On the other side, a group of horses grazed in a field, their breath hanging about their heads like friendly ghosts. Eventually, one of them slowly trundled over. He hung his head over the wall and examined me closely with his enormous eyeball to see if I had any food for him. When it transpired that I hadn’t, he swung away in disdain, farting loudly as he ambled back towards his mates. I was reminded of the mob in my house, who by now must have been regaining some semblance of consciousness.

I turned around and headed back down towards the little town. A short while later, I was standing outside my front door, fishing for my key. Through the letterbox, I could hear the sound of a vacuum cleaner. My sprits were rising.  

Pearl

The magic of happy accidents

I am not a morning person.

And yet here I was, at the crack of 9am on a dark, rain-lashed Sunday after a late night in London, chugging back a mug of instant coffee.

On the kitchen floor beside me was a workman’s toolbox, carefully packed with art materials.

These included charcoal, both willow and compressed. A tin of drawing pencils in an assortment of hardness grades, a selection of acrylic paints, a selection of brushes, some oil pastels, a couple of small bottles of ink and a box of coloured pencils.

Thus armed, I ventured forth and made my way to a pretty, period brick building in my home town, which contains some gorgeous art studios.

I was greeted at the door by Olivia. I noted with interest her long, egg-yolk yellow fingernails, and how each one was adorned with a little glittery jewel. Inside the studio were eight or so other artists, all nursing cups of tea, and Olivia rounded everyone up for a little into to her workshop – Abstract Life-drawing.

It wasn’t long before I was standing behind a paint-spattered easel, being asked to draw the model using only my non-dominant hand without looking at the drawing board.

‘The idea is that it will be impossible for you to create a perfect drawing,’ said Olivia as she strode about the room in her Doc Marten’s boots. ‘The point here is to get you to loosen up and really get involved in the process of drawing. Learn to trust your eyes and your hands. Remember that drawing is a process of happy accidents, and that’s good.’  

It was amazing to peek around the edge of the drawing board at the end of each exercise to see what had appeared there. Surprised delight was usually my response.

As I walked home after a long and tiring but fun day with a role of drawings under my arm, I thought about how getting involved in the process is something that could be applied to so many areas in life.  To take a step back from aiming to create something perfect, polished, flawless. Perhaps there are gems strewn along the journey that could end up outshining that idealised goal.

Pearl

The magic of childhood fantasy

The rain has been flinging itself against the windows almost unrelentingly, it seems.

 
The January skies, in this corner of the world, have been leaden and heavy.
 
So it has been nice to absorb myself in a painting that’s full of light. To crack open my pots of iridescent gold, and mix up hues of blue sky from my tubes of Cobalt and Cyan.
 
I would never have chosen to create a painting of Pegasus under my own steam, but that’s the beauty of commissions. Sometimes you get thrown a little curve ball – a chance to tackle something that’s slightly out of your comfort zone.
 
This piece was commissioned for a nine-year-old’s bedroom wall.
 
I remember nine. Unicorns were a big part of it. Along with unfettered flights of fancy, where the boundaries between dreams and reality were still blurred. It was so easy, and thrilling, to believe in magic. I had the slightly smug feeling that I had the keys to a fabulous childhood kingdom of fantasy that adults, with their dulled and tired minds, could no longer remember.
 
Well guess what, nine-year-old me – I remember!! And I bet I’ve still got that key somewhere, too…
 
Pearl

Interested in commissioning a painting from me? Feel free to drop me a line here, and we can have  a talk about your ideas. 

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