January
It feels like January slipped in through the gap in the window that was left by the piece of old and crumbling putty that fell out in October. A driving rain, goaded on by a particularly vicious westerly, managed to dig its fingernails along the edge of one of the old panes of glass above the staircase that winds down to the kitchen. This window has needed replacing for a while, but until we get around to it, it’ll just have to keep on whistling with the westerlies.
Last year was a quite a fearsome one for adventures, some fabulous and some a little scary, even more so than the paragliding.
So I thought it might be timely to have a brief and visual flick through just some of the lovely projects I got to work on, as an aide memoir, and also because its easier looking at those bits than recalling the scary bits.
There were some wonderful commissions including a man with such a passion for signal crayfish that he actually bought the models from Billingsgate and drove them to my front door. He arrived so early in the morning, that I was able to greet him in my husband’s dressing gown, a pair of wellies, and little else apart from a new puppy draped across my shoulders like a living, breathing stole. Always pushing the boundaries of professionalism, me.
There were other creatures from the sea, too, including Garfish, Mackerel and a huge Turbot in egg tempera.
Then Spring arrived, heralded by a series of joyful commissions that to me, embody all that is good and hopeful about the season…
Summer eventually sashayed across to centre stage, bringing with her a delicious season of bountiful colours and textures, both in the field and vegetable garden. A walk among the long grasses and wild mallow, to dig, weed and gather from the veg beds always brings endless inspiration, and so it was quite timely to be working on a brilliant new cook book by the Queen of Persian food, Sabrina Ghayour. Feast was a joy to work on. As I read each recipe it was as easy as breathing to visualise the illustrations to marry to the words and menus. Gorgeous recipes too… I’ve never felt quite so hungry while working on a cook book!
Another beauty that ambled in with the summer was a complete gem of a story written by Rosamund Young: The Secret Life of Cows.
Reading this gentle, and wholly relevant story was both revelatory and life affirming. We had raised our own pigs the previous year and the whole experience from their arrival to actually butchering and eating them was incredibly humbling, a complete honour. At that moment, her words felt like they were written for me. And so to be asked by Faber to illustrate her story was a delight.
As the Summer began to retreat, Autumn brought with her an ‘R’ in the month, and so there were mussels and oysters to illustrate (and eat).
Finally, as Winter crept in and all the autumn colours faded back into the soil, the skies became flushed with some of the most memorable sunrises and sunsets I’ve been lucky enough to witness. With her arrival came an almost manic need to keep busy, lest she catch up and render me petrified. I holed up in my studio, sharing the space with the new pup and the old terrier who’d intermittently befoul the air with their occasional, somnolent farting. To be honest it’s a miracle that I managed to draw anything… challenged with the unenviable choice of passing out from either the cold, or asphyxiation!
Here are some of the last things I drew before the year teetered over to draw the curtain on 2017.
I’m trying to avoid coming out with a seemingly stale and much hackneyed way of saying this. But the truth of the matter is I’m so grateful to you all for your incredible support, enthusiasm and humour throughout 2017. Without it, the scary bits might have been a little too much to avoid lingering over… a bit like looking at a the edge of a steep rock face, that you ‘just’ managed to convince your feet from falling down. We all know we almost fell. But we don’t need to hang around the rim of the precipice, mithering over what could’ve happened. It feels better to marvel at how we managed control our disco knees and keep going.
Here’s to 2018, where we all climb stronger, look up more and enjoy the skies.
With love, and thanks,
Anna
