Words Fail Me.

I’ve been trying to write an update of where I currently am creatively for over a week.

Literally, the words have failed me.

I’ve struggled to even write a handful of words.

I’ve reflected upon the reasons for my sudden wordly-mutism.

The closest reason I can come to is that it is like having another language. If you stop using it, you are going to struggle to find the right words when you need it.

Recently all my creative attention has been on art – painting, drawing, looking at, watching, learning.

My words are sulking in a corner, like a dog when you arrive back home after leaving them behind.

Maybe I am not bi-lingual and this will always be a problem for me?

Or perhaps I need to balance my focus and attention between the art and writing?

What if I wrote about art or paint words?

This is undoubtedly a very creative period for me but also a little confusing as I haven’t developed a clear path through it all yet.

The pathway will become apparent.

I am reading Welsh poet Gillian Clarke’s new book Roots Home. The Welsh words catching my attention and reminding me of years spent in the vale and mountains.

My wife mentioned living in Wales again, and the next day an artist on Instagram posted a photo of the hills behind our old house. Maybe it is a sign.

I’m struggling to juggle art and words, adding Welsh into the mix could be entertaining.

But then, Dylan Thomas didn’t write in Welsh, although he undoubtedly understood it.

Roots Home.

Creative roots.

Art came before the Words.

The Art was stopped and the Words sustained me.

Art – Roots. Words – Home.

500 Word Challenge – The Old Man.

A month or so back, I began the 500 Word Challenge.

This was a writing challenge to myself to write for approximately 15-20 minutes, about whatever was in my head at the time.

Sometimes the result was fiction. Sometimes it wasn’t.

Sometimes it took longer. Sometimes it wasn’t just 500 words.

It turns out there is a rebel in me after all.

Here is the result of one of those challenges:

The farmer O’Hare met the Old Man at the gate to North Field. This was normal on early spring mornings. The Old Man’s frame, tall and broad, had aged and weathered like the gate post which he was leaning upon.

Nine, O’Hare’s sheep dog was doing a lackadasical job of keeping a group of fifteen goats moving down the narrow lane. His master was inclined to ignore his dog’s poor workmanship on the understanding that he was a sheep dog and not a goat dog after all. 

The goats didn’t stray very far anyhow.

The Old Man had turned his gaze towards the farmer, his clear blue eyes were unblinking. His shaggy eyebrows hooded down, like a hawks. He liked O’Hare. He was a straight forward man and there weren’t too many of those in the world from his experience of it.

O’Hare greeted him with a nod of his head once he was a few feet away.

The Old Man responded with a gravelly voice which started from deep in his chest.

‘When are you going to get a proper goat dog?’

‘Far too expensive, you know that? Nine is good enough, they’re only goats after all.’

The Old Man gave a single nod of his head, then waited for the other man to give him the news.

O’Hare tried to sound level and even in his delivery.

‘I see some young fella from the city has taken your cousin’s cottage?’

‘So I am told.’

‘For a month no less?’

The Old Man turned his gaze towards Nine, who was now lying in the middle of the lane whilst the goats attacked part of the hedgerow.

‘Apparently, he is an illustrator. Plants and flowers and stuff like that.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Surely, your cousin has told you so?’

‘She knew you would do it for her.’

O’Hare laughed quickly.

‘You bastard.’

The Old Man lifted himself up from post. He was a tall man.

‘So my Mam always told me.’

O’Hare knew that was a lie. The Old Man had never known his mother, dying in child birth as she had. It was a tragedy in the village and make no mistake.

O’Hare’s attention was drawn back.

‘Have you seen the fella?’

He shook his head.

‘He arrived late last night by all accounts.’

The Old Man broke a smile which increased the lines in his face.

‘You mean by Lettie’s account, which is why you are late in getting getting the goats this far.’

‘By Jesus, I’m not that late, Old Man. You must have been out here earlier than usual, that’s all.’

‘Have it your way, Michael, but I will say you should make an honest woman of the poor girl.’

‘Girl? She’s older than the both of us!’

‘In that case what you’re doing must surely be illegal, and not just what the youngsters say about you and those goats.’

O’Hare grinned back at him, shaking his head.

‘I’m just waiting for that little fucker, Billy G to get himself closer enough to Nine – his precious Mam will have him away to the Medical Centre getting rabies shots and all sorts.’

The Old Man reached out an enormous hand and gripped the other man’s shoulder reassuringly.

‘I’ve thought about biting the little bastard myself.’

‘Once I know anything else, I will let you know, of course.’

‘Thank you, Michael, I’d appreciate that.’

He removed his hand and O’Hare turned, calling to Nine, who leapt up and went and barked at the nearest goat to at least show some form of willing.

Creativity Update.

I have taken once again to writing my reflections upon a verse of the Bible each week day. As always I write what I most need to hear and do. I am conscious of more focus on individual words in this phase of writing than before. Then the whole verse was in consideration. Now it is one word. One detail. I try to find the right expression of that word. Possibly using many more words than I need.

I had intended to finish one of my novels during this April Camp of NaNoWriMo. It stood at just over 75,000 words. By day two I completely lost the compulsion to continue. I don’t think this was due to hesitancy or doubt on my part. My focus had shifted.

Since I first summoned the courage to place artistic Apple Pencil upon iPad paper on 24th Jan of this year, I have now produced over 400 pieces of art. Many will be consigned to the dusty storage boxes of the iCloud, but I have begun to share some of them via Instagram. More courage. At times I am overwhelmed by how little I know about art and a deplorable lack of skills, in a way that I am not with writing. Despite this I am trying to fill the gaps.

As with the Daily Verse I am captured by a single detail. It may be a specific colour or combination of colours. It may be a pattern or shape. I am studying other artists and their works. I am watching YouTube videos and events online from galleries. You must watch ‘The Eye of the Storm‘ about Scottish artist James Morrison. (The link may only work if you are in the UK – sorry!)

Each image I make has become like an act of meditation. I relax. I have no anticipation of the final result. I try to be aware of God as a draw or paint. The emblem of three trees and the cross are repeated motifs.

I will try and share more, more regularly.

Art for the Day.

#Good Friday

https://www.instagram.com/p/CNHyWdTLgQY/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

This is from my Instagram account.

I’ve always loved art and always bemoaned ‘I can’t draw’.

This self-fufilling prophecy has worked for all of the years following a drawing I did of a Police motorcycle in Primary School, aged about seven!

During this latest lockdown I determined to ‘give’ art a go again and worked on my iPad.

I have loved every minute of it.

Not everything has been great but I am really loving the peace of creating the art, no matter what the outcome is.

I Hope you like it.

Where Do The Ideas Come From?

This is the unanswerable question.

How do I know?

I will wager that you can remember where you came up with an idea, maybe even some of the elements which went into the brew, but exactly why you thought that particular idea will allude you.

That is until you come up with a very plausible answer when it is time to do the publicity rounds.

We do that all the time with our characters – backfill – we have had plenty of practice.

So here is my thread for the day:

  • A David Hockney quote about how Japanese artists would paint a walk that they had taken during the day. There were no shadows in the painting because the time line was the length of a day, which meant the shadow would have constantly been moving in the picture.
  • The name Kenneth Gilbert.
  • Virginia Woolf’s novel Mrs. Dalloway which takes place over one day.
  • There are two Kenneth Gilberts – one of them maybe the shadow of the other one (for publicity purposes this is very Haruki Murakami, and I was trying to draw kanji earlier for a painting which must have had an impact on my imagining of the idea).

Think of one of your ideas – explain it – publicity round or exactly why you came up with it?

Paula Scher: Graphic Designer

My creative tv programme for the day is from Netflix – Abstract, The Art of Design.

You will quickly realise, as I did, that you are far more familiar with Scher’s work than her name.

The episode is a subtle masterclass in how to design and create a unified theme which can be used to maintain the central message in a number of settings.

What’s the unifying theme in your creative work?

This doesn’t mean that you have to do only one thing but perhaps think in phases or projects.

Everything you put out is part of your brand and you need to make people aware of that brand. The connectivity of your branding is drawing your visitors further into your work.

Get onto Netflix and check out the series and this episode in particular.

And here are a couple of links to get you onto a brief biography of Paula Scher and her company site.

See how much of her work you know here.

Changes.

Change happens all the time.

For the most part we probably don’t notice.

This last year, the changes have been much more obvious for most of us.

I expect we all have reflected a good deal on our lives and what we do with them.

I continue to stumble through writing, still convinced that this is what I want to do, despite the fitful bursts of words.

I have begun to engage with visual art.

One of my earliest memories is of painting.

I always watch art programmes and read about art history.

I know how much colours effect me, so I began to play with colours once again.

Music is never far away.

Faith holds me together.

I am hoping to share an expression of my current creative pilgrimage.

Part of the journey is realising that you always have been and will continue to be ‘on the Way’.