On The Wing

Marbled White butterfly, photograph taken by Doug Shaw in Queen Mary’s Woodland, June 2023

I’m writing this during odd times. My cousin Audrey died recently. There is grief in the air, and the smell of old paperwork fills the office as I trawl through a long, analogue life, sorting papers, registering the death, and arranging the funeral. Alongside all this bereavement ‘stuff’ sit many happy memories, I guess I’m feeling sadly grateful?

I live on the edge of town. Close enough to shops, trains, buses and the convenience of suburban life, and close enough to open fields, parks and woodlands too. Walking has long been my preferred mode of transport; for work, exercise, and just for the hell of it too. Walking is a lovely way to clear the head, and with everything else that’s going on, it’s proving even more beneficial lately.

A while back, my partner Carole and I decided we’d like to walk The Thames Path, and we’ve been nibbling away at stretches of the river around London. It’s a fascinating walk, taking in the old and new, the urban, the rural, and all points in between. Most recently we walked from London Bridge to Greenwich, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of Bermondsey, Rotherhithe, and Deptford before arriving at the Cutty Sark.

This section of the Thames Path seems to have very few people on it. Beyond Tower Bridge until just before Greenwich, we were surprised at how peaceful the trail is here, given its proximity to Central London. Among the urban quiet, there are signs of nature. Trees poke through the tarmac and serve as places for birds and insects to rest and feed for birds and insects.

Since I was a kid, I’ve been interested in birds, and more recently, I’ve also become much more aware of other winged creatures we share our space with, butterflies and moths. I’m no expert but I’m enjoying drifting from ‘Ooh look, a butterfly’, more towards, ‘Hey – a Speckled Wood, how lucky am I’.

On this section of trail, we saw fewer birds than usual. A few gulls, moorhen, pigeons, and mallards. Then, just as we passed Greenland Dock, I spied a Great Crested Grebe, bobbing on the water looking a bit out of place on such a wide, urban section of the river. The bird lifted our already good spirits, and we finished the walk, stitching together a 58km long continuous stretch of the path. So far, we’ve walked from Hampton Court Palace all the way to the Thames Barrier.

Before heading home, we had a quick look around a few market stalls in Greenwich and I was fortunate to spot a beautiful set of ‘Butterfly and Moth’ Gallaher cigarette cards, issued in 1938. They are in superb condition, and I paid just £15 for the complete set.

Spring is here, and as we continue our adventures into more rural surroundings, I am confident we’ll start to see more butterflies. This year, I’ll choose to acknowledge them in memory of Audrey. Who knows, I may even spot some previously unseen species too. On the wing, taken by the breeze.

Remembering Audrey Hilda Oatley. 05/12/1935 : 10/04/2023

This post was originally written in April 2023 as my contribution to ‘For The Culturally Curious Zine 02 ~ AIR’, a limited edition zine compiled and published by Emma at Brazilarte. It’s a lovely publication - you can get one here, while stocks last.

Where Do (Good) Ideas Come From?

Where Do (Good) Ideas Come From?

At my last open studios I had a table covered in drafts, sketches, doodles, and scribblings. It was called 'Where Do Good Ideas Come From?' and it proved very popular - I think partly because people enjoy seeing what goes on ‘behind the scenes’.

The smaller image seen below is a print taken from a small linocut - an early attempt at visualising a leaf as some kind of map, or a series of pathways?

It’s a simple design, nothing special on its own, yet it led me to the larger drawing - which is loosely based on the furrows in the fields, and rows of veggies at Sutton Community Farm. I imagined this map to have magical properties, and if you could figure out how to trace the lines on the land, something spectacular would reveal itself (whuh...?).

A version of the larger drawing appeared in the centre of my SpellBound book, a 20 page concertina fold out, full of patterns and more imagined magic, based on local woods, parks, and farmland. The contents of the book emerged from a series of experiments, playing with patterns, and seeing how different tools and materials interact with one another. Curiosity at work.

The finished article took many hours to make - and the cutting room floor was littered, both with failures and successes. Many of the sweepings from the floor went on to feature in the work I’m doing now. Persistence in practice.

Where do (good) ideas come from? I think they come from simply doing the work.

In conversation with Sharon Green about getting started, I noted:

It often feels tricky to find time, to start, but five minutes here and there, and we're off. I read elsewhere about someone struggling to begin an important project. The importance seemed to be acting as a drag weight - inhibiting the start, the commencement. Two quotes were offered into the mix as potential ways to lessen that weight...

“Nothing happens until something moves” A.Einstein

"Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working" P. Picasso

I notice I am capable of coming up with a million thoughts and reasons why something else needs to get in the way, yet the feeling of just sitting down and doing the work, can be very freeing. This little doodle, which emerged as I idly waited for something to start on the telly last night - is already generating ideas for a workshop happening tomorrow.

Be curious, start something, keep going.

An extract from SpellBound: Slight Return, published by Colossive Cartographies

Love is…

Love is… Hand cut stencils and spray paint on vintage sheet music, by yours truly.

blind?

all around?

a many splendoured thing?

a bit awkward?

It’s all of the above and more, I expect. It’s also something I’ve been curious about for years - yet in a broader workplace context, it’s something we don’t talk about much…if at all. I recently had the opportunity to take my thinking into a more communal space, courtesy of an experiment called The Love Lab, run by Helena Clayton.

I headed into London - carrying a useful mix of curiosity and nerves. What did I find? Our time together is confidential so I’m not going to share any specific details - instead here are a few words to describe how I experienced the day as it unfolded.

A welcome opportunity to explore love in a broad context. Lots of questions surfaced, including: What is love? What gets in the way? How can I connect with it? With just the right level of guidance, Helena led us through some fascinating, gently challenging and at times moving work. I loved the invitation to journal our own thoughts as we worked. Coincidentally I had recently received some new reading material from the excellent Colossive Press. Contained in the package was a beautiful handmade concertina notebook in which I scribbled my thoughts on the day.

Our time together passed so quickly, and I noticed as the session ended, how safe everyone felt.

If you get the opportunity to attend a future Love Lab - please take it.

My Love Lab journal - handmade by the good people at Colossive Press - sticker adornment by yours truly