the shepherd and his flock …
One of the jobs a backhouse boy in the 19th century may have advanced to when he was about 16 years old was shepherd’s helper. In time when he had learned the ropes, he could take responsibility for a flock of his own. At first, he might find the nights out with the flock a bit scary so his dad would sit with him until he got used to the noises of the night.
A shepherd was one of the most skilled and respected members of the village community. He worked alone and reliant on his one judgment. The farmer would have to trust him implicitly before entrusting him with a flock of sheep whose welfare depended on him. It was a lonely experience but while it was poorly paid it was a regular income and during lambing time, he could earn a little more. Furthermore, if he killed a sheep he was entitled to its hide and the head and liver etc that could be boiled and made into a stew and a welcome treat for a poor family.
Shepherd families in the village continued for many generations, handing down rural skills and methods building up a good reputation with farmers and neighbouring shepherds providing medical advice and cures.
One shepherd I read about was fine looking man, his gait like many whose work is restricted to tending sheep is free from swaying and rolling movements like those used to walking with a plough. With a smock flowing gracefully behind him, with a crook on his shoulder and a dog at his heel he would walk majestically with steady even pace, head thrown back with his sheep following … a picturesque figure in the landscape.
All this aside, farm work was long hard and poorly paid, and the family lived mostly in poverty. However, there were two ways to relieve it, but both were illegal and harshly punished but it seems that most families had to take the risk. One was smuggling and the other was poaching my shepherd I think was not adverse to bringing home a hare or a rabbit under his smock if the opportunity arose.
Out of the doldrums …
After weeks, going on months of blog procrastination, I feel that with a new will I might be able to commit to a regular posting. I have been busy during the last few months but not in a position to consider that it was ‘real’ work. It was fun but not purposeful and some would say that fun was good enough. I do enjoy my work and it does make me smile but having fun isn’t my main objective. To be honest for me it is enough to ‘get through the day’ without meeting up with the doldrums, self-doubt, and imposter syndrome. So, thank goodness for fun!
Nonetheless, a few weeks back with the help of a friend and a mighty big prod I was able to make a film to be shown in Dusseldorf at a film festival last weekend where it was well received.
This was the impetus I needed and feel able to pull together the threads of an idea to make another film to show later this year.
I have been writing the initial premise of the story which is set in an imagined village in Berkshire just before the industrial revolution. Now I am developing the characters and the scenes with story boards. Making the film is still a long way off, but the journey ahead appears hopeful.
As I immerge as a film maker, I am a textile artist so I will be drawing on my skills and knowledge of fabric and costume design to produce something that is somewhat authentic albeit for wire and felt sculpted dolls … I will begin with a shepherd and believe me they will not be Little Bo Peep
Kintsugi through the back door …
I don’t call myself a ‘puppeteer’ as it seems rather a lofty assumption. Having said that neither do I easily assume the title ‘animator’. My dolls rather than puppets come from a place of necessity and animation followed quickly after. During my studies and since I have researched both extensively and discovered they are masterful arts far beyond my humble attempts to make and perform. However, I do want to learn more and be part of the scene and community, if possible, in the time I have left in this world.
Which seems rather alarming, but it is super empowering. As it seems that the average age expectancy in UK is, give or take is 85 years, having reached my 73rd year just last week I have decided to spend these relatively few years I have left achieving something good, and not wasting valuable time on shame or regret. While I have not yet made many plans to this end thus far, I did attend a puppet making workshop this past weekend and made this crazy creature. It is a puppet that will be animated soon, and is made with rope and parcel string, the many knots in the recycled string I have strengthened with gold sealing wax. Which makes me think of Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken crockery where the glue used to join the pieces is mixed with powdered gold, thus enhancing the damage rather than disguising it. Comparing my string creature with such an art is also rather presumptuous I suppose … but my dreams are lofty!!
Fruit bag dolls …
When I began making dolls for my MA I intended to use discarded wire coat hangers. However, they were very difficult to cut and bend so I had to buy softer wire. So, I am unable to wave the banner for saving the planet in this aspect. Nonetheless, I try my best to recycle, reuse and repurpose as much possible. So, these dolls dressed in skirts made from plastic bags are very pleasing …
Time will tell …
As you know I go to a studio in the centre of town once a week to make films. While stop motion animation can be undertaken on a tabletop, and the equipment required minimal and potentially packed away quite easily much like any other creative equipment. This is a misconception, especially as I have other art supplies that remain unhoused. Furthermore, my house is bereft of natural light certainly not enough for photography of any type so while a studio was vital for a professional artist it has proved to be a happy routine where I can make films but also just be creative and meet likeminded souls. Sadly, towards the end of last year I hit some troublesome times and wasn’t enjoying myself so much.
With the new year and lifted spirits I am seeing the light in the tunnel and pretty sure it isn’t an oncoming train! I am back on track and looking forward to new opportunities and applying for funding. I am not holding my breath regarding the latter, but the former may just be a rich by-product. Application for funds requires much research and planning and the resulting material must not be overlooked.
I have made five new characters for a particular story although that has not yet been written yet. They are much like the coat hanger dolls, made with wire and felt, but with heads, faces and hair and perhaps a little more characterful. I have also made a dog and a lion, I have not animated a dog before so there is much tail wagging, ears lifting, up and down, he is good at sniffing and wandering about nonchalantly. So, what new? There is also a devil with red eyes so there maybe an element of mythology which might suit the lion and me as I don’t have access to the plains of Africa in my studio. Light and space is all I get so with lots of hope only time will tell.
With the ugly one …
I had lots of kind and thoughtful responses to my post yesterday and I feel much loved and grateful.
My depression is like an ugly companion with whom I spend my days but with management he/she doesn’t impinge too much, sadly it’s the anxiety, self-loathing and doubt, it brings that restricts me sometimes and particularly this time of year.
My ugly friend is a bully (or a kindly project manager) who keeps me in the moment and ensures that I keep working to block out the grief … as a result I do have a substantial body of unseen work for a book perhaps. I have also applied for a commission which involves a substantial sum of money and a film and remains beyond my wildest dreams.
So, if we are talking ‘book’ then I have much to learn about self-publication and Affinity Publisher and a film then, I must design a set, dress some characters and write a script … bring on the kind project manager … but this can only happen if I can keep the anxiety and doubt at bay …
It is what it is …
While I have busy since I graduated in 2021, I haven’t been able commit to anything in particular. I enjoyed build up ant the focus of my studies and the anticipation of a new beginning after it finished. Like I said, I have kept busy in the studio, at home an in my garden but it all seems pointless, and I lacked purpose. I kept making dolls and films and even joined some local groups, but I was uninspired and seemingly stagnant. Winter arrived followed by Christmas and with my mood so low, I was dreading the New Year unless I had a change of outlook. Friends and family became concerned and even suggested medication and therapy. I wasn’t convinced. Wasn’t I doing enough to be happy? I am creative, enjoy playing and listening to music, I take regular long walks, I eat and sleep well etc. Why should I be depressed. I have a kind supportive family.
I have suffered from depression for decades I have undertaken years of medication and therapy I can and do manage it well. However, this time it all feels so much more difficult to find a stable path. They say, ‘I’m not alone’ and its true the world is depressed. Everyone is trying their best to balance not to be ‘happy’ or even not ‘sad’ just to keep on a path of kindness … but it isn’t easy. It is Sunday morning (or it was when I began writing this) I got out my toolbox of ‘good’ intensions again! Being grateful, forgiving myself for doubt and any other misdemeanours that got me into this dark place. I sit gazing and accepting that for a while this is how it is!
Just a wet and windy Sunday morning and we need rain.
Lost in my library …
While I have been unwell and then recovering from ‘flu’ not COVID apparently, and between poorly episodes I have been contemplating and reading or at least looking at books. I was not and remain reluctant to meet the outside world or even the internet, so it has been off the bookshelf for the last few days (why change habits of a lifetime?) After reading about a poem by Frank O’Hara in the newspaper last week I thought I might read a little more from my copy of Lunch Poems, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I was a librarian; it should be in the poetry section, shouldn’t it? But no, misfiled? So, I searched everywhere and assumed it has been mistakenly culled last year. I was considering its replacement but even second handbooks are expensive.
Then encouraged by another prompt I looked for other book I knew I had ‘somewhere, but I could not find that either. It was a graphic novel by Lizzy Stewart, I have been buying and collecting graphic novels for a couple of years so I suppose they should have a shelf of their own, but I thought it might be just a passing phase and the ‘problem’ would solve itself. Instead, the collection grew, and it became increasingly difficult to categorise. Yes, they are graphic novels and probably located in Waterstones amongst the comic books, but the subject matter is vast I cannot for instance put a book about Woody Guthrie (music)and even that is debatable or Georgia O’Keefe (art) beside a book about a Siberian prison camp (which incidentally I have filed near my poetry books as it has reference to haiku) I say near because of it size; that it another cataloguing dilemma folio or quarto? Its okay to have separate shelves for larger books in a vast library building … my tiny house is full to the gunnels!
So, this story goes a long way to explain, I did find both books in my ‘walking’ shelves Lizzy Stewart’s book is called Walking distance and by co-incidence beside Frank O’Hara’s called Lunch Poems and the poems are written while taking a lunch break during a walk in Manhattan. While I marvel at my logic sometimes, I am in despair but not yet ready to digitalise!
All the time in the world …
Although the weather is mild for the time of year (here in UK) there is a real feeling of Autumn. I love the change of seasons particularly this one when the air and light, have a magic that we simple must enjoy because it only lasts a few hours before the darkness of night comes and is seemingly far too long.
During the daylight hours I continue to work wrapped up against the chill; since heating costs have gone sky high, I am having conserve energy as much as possible. Fortunately, the garden can take care of itself for now but remains a constant delight to watch from my kitchen window. So, while my teapot has a cosy and the dolls have hibernated. I am undertaking reflective and gentle tasks.
I walk daily just as the sun comes up and it is a time when I can feel and see the weather and change of season more fully. After breakfast with some short-lived vigour, I practice playing the piano and ukulele with mixed results but while no one can hear I allow myself to imagine I am in a concert hall with a modicum of applause.
The afternoon I spend writing and drawing and have the makings of an illustrated poetry book.
Soon it will be gin o’clock when I sip a little or a lot and knit socks…
my dolls need a song …
My home and studio are small and making music and recording in some sort of privacy for me and my family would be impossible unless I have audio recording equipment for my laptop and my electronic piano. So, with that and an app for my phone, I am, potentially able to layer short and vibrant sounds and patterns, to complement my films.
I would like to say that there is a happy ending to all this and there will ‘one day’. Not only do I have a box of ‘sound’ making tools I find myself relearning to play the piano and learning to play the ukulele. The piano has alwaysbeen in my home since my youngest child learned to play. The ukulele happened to be unused in the eldest’s house and begged to be played rather than gather dust.
So, while my films remain silent, I have come out of the doldrums, even if the world of music is not as I expected. The piano playing is improving day be day, but the ukulele is a monster with whom I wrestle daily. Perhaps, the challenge will give me subject matter for my blog, or the post writing might give me respite from the utter disharmony I have in my life at the moment.
Coat Hanger Doll's House 