A couple of blog entries ago I mentioned the fact that I have in my studio items surrounding me that make me feel 'safe'. Safe in the fact that, like me,  they have a history. Oh, they might be missing a bit here and there, look a bit jaded and fragile when the morning sun from my studio window hits them in the face, but don't we all? 

I have teddy bears, a buddha and music boxes. I collect Silver Crane tins.  Old ones of vintage shop fronts which, together with other loved containers, hold pencils, brushes and bits of scribbled scrap. My computer is nestled within a book nook, holding an eclectic range of many books with titles such as ' The Tao of Pooh/The Te of Piglet', The Alchemy of the Heavens to the left and 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland', Sacred Contracts to the right. My mothers' bear, a gold-rimmed bowl and old perched on shelve photos joining the heart dots on bad days. Cluttered is not the word really, but take one piece out and it feels like someone has plucked molecules out of my studio structure. 

It's not all about objects or memorabilia, but I'm surrounded by visual narratives created by myself as the years have passed. Interspersed within its walls are paintings I've done over the years, even ones from my childhood, painted well before self-absorption and doubt set in. Pieces I won't part with, not because of their brilliance perhaps, but my connection to them. But there is a little one, leaning on a book that means the most. 

 A painting, an oil, called Self-portrait in Addies Cardigan' painted without a plan, composition or forethought. On birch, only 14cm x 21cm. A quick study, with random colours and loose strokes. A signature crow perches beside me and I'm holding a brush in my right hand and grasping the left 'left alone arm' in my fingers. Behind me is a dancers ballet bar. As that was who Addie was; a ballet dancer.


Adrienne my mother. Fearns, Adrienne (Addy) Margaret: Passed away early hours of 11.12.2013. I guess in later years you could call her my muse as she has inspired many pieces of work as well as helped me name some pieces back when she was still here.
A gorgeous creative in her own right, she studied at the RADA and trained at the Diaghilev school. Unlike me apparently, the younger she had wonderful posture. She could stand & immediately go to sitting cross-legged on the floor, with this easy movement & a straight back..never slouched. 

When she was older Addie used to feel the cold, as do I. Bitterly. I bought her a mauve long cardigan that was soft, feminine with ribbed sleeves. When she died, I took back the cardi, occasionally wearing it when I'm feeling blue missing her. Its material will probably be threadbare before it finds its demise, but that's okay. I'm okay with it.  
The painting only took under an hour to paint, but it served its purpose. 

Cheers, my creative lovelies.