tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64077687561823560512024-02-07T19:16:18.528-08:00The Musings of Mildred LathburyWriting about things I love, such as art, books, music and life.Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-14742713319280667402020-09-26T12:39:00.002-07:002020-09-26T12:39:26.693-07:00A letter to my younger selfDear 19 year old Me<br />
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This is a letter from your fortysomething self. I know you can't quite imagine being <b>that</b> old or even looking into the future too far. Yes your A Level results were poor and yes you are in a tedious office job with a bitch as a supervisor. Although you didn't go away to University, you <b>will</b> get that degree and you will do it fabulously. <br />
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Right now you are still slightly hung up on that artistic boy at college, thinking it was real love. It really wasn't. Right now you are rather shy, small minded and judgmental, but you will open up and be more accepting. Your job right now may be boring but the place you work will introduce you to people from all over the world, people with differing values and interests and beliefs. This will change you for the better.<br />
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You don't realise it yet, but you are <b>so</b> lucky, your family are decent, loving people, your childhood was fun and warm. Don't take that warmth and love too much for granted. You will meet many people whose awful childhoods will cause damage to themselves and others. <br /><br />
<span face="" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I know that you aren't particularly comfortable with who you are yet and your friends from school are now fading away. But don't worry, you will find other friends who you will have more in common with than just a shared hatred of double maths. You will learn gradually to be yourself and to accept who you are. </span><div><span face="" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Talking of friends, some of the best friends you will have will be those people who don't fit in, who aren't typical or fashionable, the geeks and obsessives, the random and the atypical. People like you. These are the people who will enrich your life immeasurably. They are your tribe.</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Be proud of who you are and where you come from. Never stop being creative, no matter what path you take. You will know sadness and pain and loss, but you will also know real joy and contentment and even love. It will be the pain that helps you to become a better person, a stronger woman. One day you will realise that your strength comes from the love you have been shown. </div><div><br /></div><div>Never compare yourself to other people. They may seem as if they've got everything worked out, but generally it just means they are better at hiding their insecurities and worries. People are all damaged, anxious, confused and clueless. On the whole most people are also kind hearted and decent and capable of great things. Be kind as far as possible to everyone, most of all to yourself.</div><div><br /></div><div>Love</div><div>Me</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhauolZcVzx8JZFbiJfgKYYarD8JGFdpvt9w_3KKnSAfXF9ZZWpbVMBXSQMm8x6kRJT_inzX8QJeG7MUawBvpNZ2Q0l2avqSLXvDifvQB-vzIKu7nhd2JaUyCjPfCwUOiF9sdIPk-Zsk8jh/s3264/20131226_095815.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1836" data-original-width="3264" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhauolZcVzx8JZFbiJfgKYYarD8JGFdpvt9w_3KKnSAfXF9ZZWpbVMBXSQMm8x6kRJT_inzX8QJeG7MUawBvpNZ2Q0l2avqSLXvDifvQB-vzIKu7nhd2JaUyCjPfCwUOiF9sdIPk-Zsk8jh/w400-h225/20131226_095815.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />
<br /></div>Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-39500162613192217102020-06-23T03:34:00.001-07:002020-06-23T03:40:16.019-07:00I've been thinking recently about my journey as an artist. Although I was taught a huge amount at school and was encouraged by my teachers, I've realised that I allowed a terrible A Level teacher to impact on my making art for too many years. I still remember her criticism - I was too decorative, was too concerned with colour, that I needed to be more analytical. She wasn't talking about improving technique, which would have made sense and would have been helpful. No she was telling me what my art should be about. She wanted me to be the kind of modern artist who created installations and who would impose my political views on others, who wouldn't find joy in pattern and colour and light. The irony was that she was also my tutor for art history, and we looked at the art of Matisse and Van Gogh and expressionists, of artists who loved light and colour and pattern. <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="color: black;"></span><br />
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When I left college, I knew I didn't want to be a designer, I wasn't precise enough and I wouldn't have coped with the lack of artistic freedom. I didn't know what I wanted to do. I went into an office job and eventually found a job I enjoyed. I gradually did less and less drawing, although I still loved going to galleries. I had stopped dreaming about going to art college, and eventually I allowed her criticism to stop me being creative.<br />
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In the last decade I've come back to creating, and in the last three years it has been a huge part of my life, I've even converted a spare room into a studio. I know I have so much to learn, I can struggle with technique, and I'm certain that I need to slow down and take more time over things. She judged me and found me wanting but wasn't a good enough teacher to help me discover my own art. She should have helped me improve my technique, given me inspiration to practice more often. </div>
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I may not be the best artist in the world, but I know I do have some talent and most importantly, I have a need to create. It is part of who I am and I am a lesser person without it. The artists that I love now are mostly painters, people who find joy in colour and pattern and light. </div>
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I've realised that my creativity spills over all aspects of my life. It is not just that I draw and paint, my home and garden are creations - I'm not the kind of person who can just have a blank white house with practical items, I need colour and interest and shape and pattern and inspiration. My garden is chaotic and crazy, but its wonderful for wildlife and there is a feast for the senses at every turn. I do a lot of photography that is creative, I'm always looking for beauty in creation, a new composition, ad trick of light.</div>
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I spoke to someone recently who actually knew my old art tutor and she wasn't surprised by my criticism, so I do wonder how many people she imposed her attitude on over the years. I'm lucky, I was encouraged by so many people to be creative over the years, and I've started to discover my style and passions. I do hope that someone one day reads this blog and feels encouraged to be creative, as there is nothing to stop you being the artist you want to be.<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="color: black;"></span><br /></span></div>
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Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-82941874676317756522020-05-06T05:58:00.000-07:002020-05-06T05:58:28.119-07:00Things that make me happyGlimpses of real joy can be found amongst the sadness and confusion of this strange time. Perhaps I'm lucky to have so many enthusiasms and interests, I seem to rarely feel bored at home. I know I'm very lucky to have a chaotic but lovely garden that is keeping me sane.<br />
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I've been trying to count my blessings, not in a Pollyanna way, but in truly acknowledging the positives in my life. So many things do make me happy so I thought I'd make a list, perhaps you could do the same, they are often better for being small and seemingly insignificant.</div>
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The swifts when they return each May</div>
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Reading early 20th century novels</div>
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Growing herbs</div>
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Drawing and painting</div>
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Baking cakes</div>
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Sitting in front of the fire on a cold day</div>
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Lighting candles</div>
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Watching bees and hoverflies and butterflies</div>
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Doctor Who</div>
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Reading a book when its raining outside</div>
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Learning new crafts</div>
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Listening to Ella Fitzgerald</div>
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Looking out to sea</div>
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Anything by Paul McCartney</div>
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Anything on the Bloomsbury Group</div>
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Listening to the wireless</div>
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Discovering new authors or artists</div>
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Old films</div>
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<br />Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-52106648204773934702019-08-25T07:31:00.000-07:002019-08-27T01:20:51.089-07:00Do not be afraidTo be an artist is to see things differently. To see colour and form and line everywhere you go, to notice whether colours jar, to see depth of field, pattern and composition in nature, in people, in buildings. To an artist even shapes can be pleasing, even exciting, colour can impact on how you view your surroundings. It isn't just a matter of noticing things, but of being always aware of sensation, of seeing wonder in seemingly unimportant places, to see beauty in the juxtaposition of two colours that sing.<br />
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From a young age, I seemed to notice things that others barely saw. My senses were always heightened it seems but I was always looking. Beauty is often fleeting, and I feel is mostly drawn from nature itself. It can be about a small patch of grass with a patch of warm light glowing and pulsating. Suddenly the light changes, and the moment is gone. Twenty people could be looking at that same patch of grass and only some of them will see the beauty there.<br />
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Whilst the skills of drawing and painting can be taught or learned through experience, I do wonder whether that artistic sensibility is something that is purely innate, something we are born with, or whether it is something that develops.</div>
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I found this wonderful quote from one of my favourite artists, Vanessa Bell 'Learn to look and the rest will take care of itself. Do not be afraid, if you want to be artists, of being a little mad.'</div>
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<br />Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-89110808697801093152019-08-18T04:42:00.005-07:002020-08-27T13:13:21.521-07:00Fear of the singular<div>
I've come to a realisation that the modern world doesn't know how to deal with a single person. It doesn't seem to matter if that person is single, separated or divorced, whether they are old or young. Our society treats them as somehow odd and assumes that everyone should always be part of a couple. They can just about deal with single parents or the very elderly widow as somehow that is acceptable. But if you are single by choice or circumstance or your marriage imploded, then the only course of action to society is to couple up as soon as possible. If you just don't want to go back into a relationship or you just don't meet people who are attracted to you, then you are seen as a freak.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When you are married, you enter into a kind of club of acceptable people. Couples will invite other couples to dinner, but their single friends are often left out unless they are there to match make. Even if that single friend has been part of their life for decades, if they make a new married friend in the meantime, then that is the new chosen person - the one who gets chosen as godparent, as somehow more acceptable. It doesn't matter if that single person would actually have more time and love to give to their friends or that they had been there as a friend for a long time.</div>
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When I was married, some people treated me differently, even some family members suddenly found me more interesting, would invite us as a couple to events that weren't open to me when I was single. I loved being married but I didn't understand why I had a special status. Even as a couple when we socialised, we rarely just invited other couples, we invited friends, single and married because we wanted to spend time with them. I'm proud that I didn't drop my friends or ignore the single or divorced ones. That fact that one of those people we took into our home turned out to be trying to live vicariously through my life doesn't change how I feel either. All of the others, family or friends, married or single were worth the effort I put into our relationship.</div>
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After my marriage ended a couple of years ago, it seemed as if some people didn't understand why I didn't leap into a new relationship within weeks. Even worse than that, I've been shouted at, told how to live my life, and made to feel as if I don't fit in. I've been sidelined, told how to think and who to love. </div>
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We all need to remember that there is more than one way to live your life. It isn't just about marriage, mortgage, kids. Life is more complex and dark and fascinating and joyful than that. Life is about the journey, and if we are lucky we have many companions on that journey who impact on our life. We may be married happily for decades, we may never meet anyone at all, we may only have a brief relationship in middle life, we may meet a special person at the age of seventy. We all have glimpses of joy and moments of despair. We are all worthy of friendship and love and understanding. We are all somehow broken and in need of support from our fellow human beings. </div>
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Through the darkest days of my life a couple of years ago, I came to a realisation that had been in the back of my consciousness for most of my life. I'm an artist; my soul needs to be creative, to express the wonder and joy and misery and confusion of life. It isn't just about drawing and painting, it is about creativity in all its forms; having my chaotic overgrown garden filled with insects and birds, having a home that soothes and fascinates my senses. All of us have passions and things that make us who we are. <span face="" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Whether we are single or married is often the least interesting part of our story.</span></div>
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<span face="" style="color: blue;"><b>We are all just travellers on one great journey home, </b></span></div>
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<span face="" style="color: blue;"><b>in need of daily grace filled reminders </b></span></div>
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<span face="" style="color: blue;"><b>that none of us are travelling alone.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">Morgan Harper Nichols</span></div>
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Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-41448318017223830902019-06-11T04:11:00.006-07:002020-08-27T13:14:59.201-07:00Ghosts of the pastI saw someone from a distance the other day. A very ordinary, plain woman who I once knew, and I haven't seen for over two years. She didn't look interesting or pretty or animated. Her face betrayed no feelings, she had no sparkle, no warmth. Although she was with a large group of others she didn't really interact with them. It was as if she was separate from the others, maybe even above them and their concerns. I even felt there was a pompousness there, a sense of self importance. She seemed to be a ghost, a wraith, unreal.<br />
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When I first saw her, I expected a deeply visceral reaction; I expected to feel intimidated, insecure, angry, bitter. She was a ghost from my past, although never someone who was a real friend or who ever cared for me. I had spent much of the last two years feeling I was lacking, that she had something special I didn't. Seeing that face made me realise that <b><i>she </i></b>was the person who was lacking. She wasn't special or startling or very important.<br />
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This may sound as if I'm arrogant or hating another woman mindlessly, but that isn't the case. It isn't about comparison, it is about realising my own worth after a very difficult couple of years. I'm aware of my own failings, my insecurities. I'm lazy, impatient, too easily upset, too anxious and sometimes I'm too judgemental. However I'm kind, warm, friendly, affectionate, animated. I love people deeply and I try hard to appreciate the people in my life. I don't betray people, I'm intelligent and love learning. I'm creative and empathetic and I am interested in other people. I try not to be self important and I hate self pity. I've worked so very hard not to allow myself to become bitter or wizened by pain and sorrow.<br />
<br />I realised that she has become unimportant to me. And when I beat myself up at times about whether I have healed quickly enough the fact is that I actually pitied her more than anything.<br />
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I know who I am and what is important in my life. I'm frail and flawed but I do try to live gently,<br />
without causing untold damage to the environment or to other human beings. I try to concentrate on my family and friends, nature, art, beauty, learning and searching for meaning in an ever changing world. Perhaps that makes me a bit of a hippy but I don't have a problem with that!<br />
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<br />Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-39074420136150211762019-01-14T07:42:00.003-08:002019-01-14T07:42:57.899-08:00The power of many<div>
I have never been someone who has a large close group of long standing friends, I'm not even in touch with people I knew at school. That used to really concern me, especially as the years pass and some friends fade away and disappear completely. As I get older however I'm more aware that some friends are there for the long haul and others come into your life at specific points, and then move on. I've often been very hurt when people who were once a close friend just stop making an effort. It didn't help that in my 20s and 30s most of the friends I made were male, and as they moved into marriage and kids, often their wives weren't overly keen on them having close female friends. I can understand that far better now, as whilst<b> </b>I would never run off with someone else's husband, there are plenty of women out there who don't have such qualms.<br />
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The last two years have been challenging. But one of the positives I've taken from it is truly knowing who my friends are. I did 'lose' a couple who probably couldn't cope with the idea of dealing with me as a single unit, maybe thinking I was tainted or unnatural unless I was part of a couple. However the majority of people, from my oldest friends through to new acquaintances have been wonderful. When I was my lowest, the actions of some of my friends made life feel so much better:-<br />
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<li>The old friend who doesn't often get in touch who as soon as she had heard my woes, walked to my house one evening and knocked on the door just to give me a hug. She isn't a particularly huggy person and she suffers from anxiety so found it quite difficult to do.</li>
<li>The really busy friend who lives miles away who called me every Thursday just to chat and make sure I was okay.</li>
<li>The friend who called me every Saturday just because I said that I found that day the most difficult. The same friend who was utterly honest if I was allowing the situation to make me negative and mean spirited </li>
<li>The elderly friend who was in hospital after having heard I was struggling, asked a mutual friend to pass on a big hug.</li>
<li>The friend who was going through a lot of health and emotional issues herself but would always sit and chat with me and invited me out more often when I was vunerable.</li>
<li>The friend who even now asks after me every week even through she has gone through awful times in the last two years.</li>
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Friendship is such an underappreciated blessing; the world seems to only understand lives formed of a couple. But it is <b>friendship</b> not romance that makes school bearable, that makes work far more interesting, that gets us through life. Friendship is the glue that holds us all together, that creates community, that makes us better people.<br />
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<span style="color: #660000;">“I think if I've learned anything about friendship, it's to hang in,
stay connected, fight for them, and let them fight for you. Don't walk
away, don't be distracted, don't be too busy or tired, don't take them
for granted. Friends are part of the glue that holds life and faith
together.”
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<span class="authorOrTitle">
Jon Katz
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Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-46035922484603622832018-10-21T06:44:00.003-07:002018-10-21T06:44:28.666-07:00My boat is so small<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
For a while I've had a notion for a painting, showing a boat on a calm sea. I tried painting it and I was never really happy with it. It never convinced me and I now realise that was due to the painting just not<i> true</i>. Instead of painting how I feel, I was trying to paint what <i>wish</i> I felt. </div>
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It is so easy to paint a kind of wish fulfilment, but it never rings true. And I think I realised that after coming back from a holiday where I visited the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam. Seeing so many of his wonderful works has really impacted on me. I don't pretend to be the kind of artist he was, but I felt inspired by him and his truth.</div>
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So in order to paint the reality of life, I painted over my calm but tedious seascape with a sea based on a Van Gogh painting. It isn't perfect, I could go back to it, but the reality is, it reflects the turbulence of emotion, the reality of life. So instead of painting a boat, it is from the point of view of my little boat, coming onto the shore, looking back to the wild sea.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyPqHORrsHJyLsCgUQ2n0i9Pc7rOEM07aF4wMAjVIPOofKG5xrl6EFhYWSX1Ym2tITgvFpshAM6zZa_SG9feq8pGFHmqev_uMY2qk28e3YBc4eNHcbvjUYpYUfgnwLo9WE4wVyljo-D0O/s1600/20181016_131742-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="978" data-original-width="1600" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyPqHORrsHJyLsCgUQ2n0i9Pc7rOEM07aF4wMAjVIPOofKG5xrl6EFhYWSX1Ym2tITgvFpshAM6zZa_SG9feq8pGFHmqev_uMY2qk28e3YBc4eNHcbvjUYpYUfgnwLo9WE4wVyljo-D0O/s640/20181016_131742-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="color: #ba0000; font-family: -apple-system,system-ui,BlinkMacSystemFont,"Segoe UI",Roboto,"Helvetica Neue","Fira Sans",Ubuntu,Oxygen,"Oxygen Sans",Cantarell,"Droid Sans","Apple Color Emoji","Segoe UI Emoji","Segoe UI Emoji","Segoe UI Symbol","Lucida Grande",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">O God, Thy Sea Is So Great And My Boat Is So Small</span></b></div>
Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-15645919426716478282018-08-20T11:15:00.001-07:002018-08-20T11:15:16.824-07:00One momentWe only ever have the one moment to live at a time. That is a mantra I need to remember more often, when my mind is feeling panicked at the thought of imagined futures. Those future thoughts are always filled with dread, a life with no joy or love. At the best of times, I am naturally calm and content and can find joy in the smallest of things, but sometimes anxiety just takes over. <br />
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Anxiety may start as a rational feeling which stops us walking in front of a bus or warns us about when to be cautious. More often than not, it is unhelpful and damaging and makes a sunny happy day into a day of misery and tension. The irony about anxiety is that in itself it causes more unhappiness than most of the things that we fear will happen.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3vQq-FUs0AtRiXN6JRBcPd7zT5VGKt6Ntg8XV1JZAPL6Zbeq4PHt4GP48E3Mno_tEYYEhHXo38IPxxZmtFWOmX5pWVl2dw8dpvgo9JZ0qhoKOQLc6so9BSvrcv3BnGIGmPe_7f9eUp3y6/s1600/DSC00378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3vQq-FUs0AtRiXN6JRBcPd7zT5VGKt6Ntg8XV1JZAPL6Zbeq4PHt4GP48E3Mno_tEYYEhHXo38IPxxZmtFWOmX5pWVl2dw8dpvgo9JZ0qhoKOQLc6so9BSvrcv3BnGIGmPe_7f9eUp3y6/s400/DSC00378.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Anxiety stops us from doing things that we love and freezes us on the spot. If we step out of that anxious paralysis and push ourselves to do the things we love - talking to friends, making art, reading novels, baking a cake - then anxiety becomes side-lined and less important. Matt Haig describes anxiety and depression as being a 'intense fear of happiness'. It is so important to realise that anxiety lies, it makes us dread things that will never happen, it robs us of contentment. </div>
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All feelings and moods are transient and fleeting even when we feel stuck. We will come out the other side. Sunshine, joy and happiness and even boring normality will be back again.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #777777; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Lato,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #777777; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Lato,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">“We must allow ourselves to feel the gales and downpours, but all the time just knowing this is necessary weather” </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #777777; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Lato,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Matt Haig</span></div>
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Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-91601860267139057702018-06-19T02:23:00.002-07:002018-06-19T02:24:17.004-07:00Rag dollWhen I was small, I had a rag doll. She came as part of a bag I'd been given and she lived in the front pocket of the bag. For a whole summer I loved and adored her. I carried her everywhere in her little pocket and took her on holiday with me. I don't remember when she was lost, or what happened to her. I guess eventually another toy became important and she was eventually discarded.<br />
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I remembered her recently when I was watching a music video, where a small rag doll featured, a small version of the singer. And so on a Sunday afternoon, with a huge amount of ironing being ignored, I started making a rag doll.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5YWAKGr2DOErMbwY6aVJVbJ3LHfZdXt6FvWUrnMb6zO9Ld_lHd9xMHetkwYniyVDClGhL4n5o6MtMSpztBBCtteksH13Q0QJgb8UF-3Nkx2FJ5a7DNXI7yByJhp8dHu3gXba4LVG8P31n/s1600/20180617_162700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5YWAKGr2DOErMbwY6aVJVbJ3LHfZdXt6FvWUrnMb6zO9Ld_lHd9xMHetkwYniyVDClGhL4n5o6MtMSpztBBCtteksH13Q0QJgb8UF-3Nkx2FJ5a7DNXI7yByJhp8dHu3gXba4LVG8P31n/s400/20180617_162700.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
I didn't follow a pattern, I had no clue where it would take me, and my sewing skills are scrappy and erratic. I was too impatient to care about neatness and exact measurements. I just wanted to create. I decided that she would have blue eyes and red hair (as all the best people do) and started working out a way of doing that. Wool and buttons and stuffing were found.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbNOOi3Z7qG45zYJX3dJzSSJHAgoK8Bu3ZYbkflhO9FyeVSH25RUzpEGACG_yefsqCafEqbaHKzoVu1C9NMi7zhH8wVfTPUc5u8g9NcqiIWlArwm5NVcB5aOYs0soLbDzR2sFik1v1K-k/s1600/20180617_171556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbNOOi3Z7qG45zYJX3dJzSSJHAgoK8Bu3ZYbkflhO9FyeVSH25RUzpEGACG_yefsqCafEqbaHKzoVu1C9NMi7zhH8wVfTPUc5u8g9NcqiIWlArwm5NVcB5aOYs0soLbDzR2sFik1v1K-k/s400/20180617_171556.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
Luckily my studio is filled with scraps of material and wool and cotton and things that look as if they will never be useful. I found a lovely deep green which could become a dress.<br />
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Then being interrupted by pesky work and other committments, on Sunday evening I had to stop. On the Monday evening however I picked her up again and started to think about what to add.<br />
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So her dress had pink and green buttons added and a belt of flowers around her middle. In spite of my lack of planning and a distinct lack of neatness and sewing talent, I'm really very pleased with her. I may add shoes or she may run free without them. <br />
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There is a freedom in creating, in spending time doing something that isn't necessary. I feel that creativity is a form of play, and it is where we are often most truly ourselves. Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-88161051810501473062018-05-09T06:34:00.003-07:002018-05-09T06:34:38.284-07:00Life is funnyI do feel like I'm rather contrary sometimes. I love being social, seeing friends and family, having new experiences, learning new things, planning trips and time away. However if I find myself with too full a diary, and little time just to 'be', I start yearning for time on my own. Of course if I'm on my own too much, I start feeling discombobulated, even though I'm someone who is happy with their own company. I guess, as with all things in life, it's about striking a balance.<br />
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I know in the past, I've felt lazy just because I don't spend the whole weekend cleaning or ticking things off a list, as I've compared myself to other people far too much. Of course, there are things we have to do, and chores need to be done and I'm the first person to love writing lists. But as I spend almost forty hours a week at work, and I spend a lot of time helping at the local church, I do figure that I need to do things that I enjoy as well. <br />
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I've become aware that in order to feel content and at ease, my life has to include art and crafts. Whilst in an anxious state last weekend, feeling emotionally overwhelmed by life, I got out my paints and spent less than an hour painting a small still life. It won't win any prizes, but I was pleased with it, and most importantly I felt calm and happy after having painted it.<br />
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I know I have <i>some</i> talent with art, although I'm very aware of things I need to improve. Luckily I don't have any pointless destructive self pity or anger when things go wrong. I don't mind not being perfect, and if something is utterly beyond redemption, I will just throw it away or paint over it. I am more likely to try and improve or try something different, and can't remember ever having a fit of anger about art. </div>
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Having some form of creativity can make all the difference between just existing in the world and doing something in life for the sheer joy of it. Whatever sanity I still have is mostly due to having a way of expressing that creativity.</div>
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<span style="color: #783f04;"><b>“Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder
how all those who do not write, compose, or paint can manage to escape
the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in a
human situation.” </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04;"><b>Graham Greene</b></span></div>
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<br />Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-23014131270526324652018-04-25T08:15:00.001-07:002018-04-25T08:15:14.475-07:00The Pattern of FriendshipIt has been a while since I blogged, mostly due to life getting in the way. But last weekend I saw a <i>wonderful</i> exhibition which I have to talk about. <b>Ravilious & Co: The Pattern of Friendship. English Artist Designers 1922-1942</b> is currently at Compton Verney in Warwickshire, having already been at the Towner Gallery in Eastbourne and at Millenium Gallery, Sheffield. It explores the significant relationships and working collaborations
between Ravilious and an important group of friends and affiliates. There were works by Edward Bawden, Paul Nash, John Nash, Enid Marx, Barnett Freedman, Tirzah Garwood, Douglas Percy Bliss, Peggy Angus and Helen Binyon. The full breadth of their work as arists/designers was on show, book covers, London Underground posters, pottery as well as paintings, fabrics and woodcuts. <br />
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I have a great love for 20th century modern art, and have been learning a lot about it in the last few years. Eric Ravilious is one of those artists who has kept on appearing in various books and exhibitions, a few of his watercolours were part of last year's <b>British Art: Ancient Landscapes</b> exhibition at Salisbury Museum, alongside works by Paul Nash and John Piper.<br />
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I had also recently read a fascinating book by Alexandra Harris, <b>Romantic Moderns: English Writers, Artists and the Imagination from Virginia Woolf to John Piper</b>, which covered a huge amount of ground in the art and literature of the 1920s and 30s and discussed the juxtaposition of modernism and the romantic attitude to the landscape. <br />
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The exhibition has inspired me to open up the kinds of works I am doing and on the train home at the weekend, my head was buzzing with ideas. <br />
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<br />Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-17622601057128077932018-02-13T08:13:00.001-08:002018-02-13T08:13:46.281-08:00Hands and feet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I've had quite a creative journey recently. Spending time looking at Pre-Raphaelite paintings, and realising that early Burne Jones paintings show a distinct lack of talent in painting realistic hands was quite startling as well as reassuring! In the same day I saw a beautiful pair of feet painted by the same artist, which I was quite struck by.</div>
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In my own studio, I have been concentrating on places that mean something to me. I used a black inky pen to draw a Devon gate that I used to love to stare at. A place that meant something to me, and a place I doubt I shall ever see again. By creating a drawing of this place, I felt as if I was coming to terms with loss, as well as acknowledging the place was important to me.</div>
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This winter seems to be very long and cold at the moment, although there are small glimpses that Spring will arrive. I've been taking photographs of the beautiful aspects of the cold weather - the low sunlight through the trees and the frost on the ground.</div>
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And I eventually returned to hands and feet when visiting Winchester Cathedral the other day. The Anthony Gormley sculpture was stood in pools of water in the crypt. A quiet and literally reflective moment for me.</div>
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<br />Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-37166221699197252182018-02-06T06:40:00.001-08:002018-02-14T03:18:52.047-08:00Draw on the love that you DO haveLife can throw you a curve ball sometimes and all the old certainties are swept away. It has been over a year since my life changed utterly and I've spent a lot of time doubting everything and wondering how much of the last decade was actually a lie as it now feels quite unreal. Whilst trying to rebuild my life again, I'm come up against a lot of doubt and confusion. Then I read this wonderful blog entry which made me feel as if no love is ever truly wasted. <br />
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<b>https://therearegiantsinthesky.wordpress.com/2018/01/11/the-glue-that-sticks-us-together/</b><br />
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I still believe that love is the answer. Love for your family, your friends, your passions and interests, for humankind as a whole <i>as well as</i> romantic love. I still believe that love is the point of life and that any love that is good, kind and true, is worth it. Quite often people get so caught up in the difference between loving someone and being 'in love' and cast people aside for the more exciting of the two. <br />
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I'm more convinced that ever that being 'in love' is all about effort and intent. No long term relationship can survive if one or both of the people make little effort or run away when things are difficult. Love isn't just a feeling, it is a verb, you need to act lovingly, put the effort in, express your love for that person in order to keep it going. This also counts for friendship and family relationships, you should never take love of any form for granted.<br />
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My favourite quote from this wonderful blog is this "With this in mind, I will resolve to keep my heart open, remember there are many forms of love and rejoice in those I do have....But most of all, whilst your heart is mending, <b>draw on the love that you do have</b>.
The love that you give or receive every day. Whoever, whatever or
wherever it may come from or go. Concentrate on that love and <b>it will become the glue that sticks you back together."</b><br />
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My next blog entry will return to talking about my creative journey.<br />
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Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-41553968490887599012017-12-05T02:47:00.002-08:002017-12-05T02:47:33.814-08:00Who am I - part 2I've been thinking about my identity and who I am quite a lot recently. In the last year, an important part of who I considered myself to be - a wife or partner, has been taken away from me. I'm not sure I realised until this phase of my life ended, that with the title of wife came with a status. Now I keep asking myself, who am I?<br />
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I do feel lucky that I have always had a very strong sense of self. I've always been self aware and known what kind of person I am and what I stand for. When I was young, I was aware that I wasn't typical or average and that was tough at times, but as I've grown older I've accepted that and now celebrate my own quirks and interests. I've been very lucky to have family and friends who not only accepted me, but encouraged my interests - in music (whether it's Bing Crosby, Tudor polyphony or Elvis), art and crafts, reading, bird spotting and family history. When my life is rocked, I always have art, music and books to run to.<br />
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The last year has made me doubt myself and my self worth and that isn't a comfortable place to be. I can't imagine how someone with a lesser sense of self or a less supportive family could cope. As the year has progressed, and I feel tired out by confusion, and feeling sick to the stomach of being strong, I keep on hearing an increasingly loud and slightly angry voice shouting in my head, "<b>WHAT ABOUT <u>ME</u></b>?" That slightly angry, determined voice is what has kept me determined to get on with things and not just survive but eventually to thrive. <br />
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I feel that this is <b>MY</b> time now. I need to please myself and rebuild my life to how I want it to be. As I've said before, art and creativity are a large part of that. It is an essential part of who I am. I have also developed other interests in the last decade which I still want to be involved with - bird watching, baking cakes, improving my cooking skills, reading novels (I've read 24 books this year so far), writing and WI. There will be new skills to master and books, new (or old) paintings, books, songs and films to discover. And eventually, I'm hoping that my blog will be filled more with excitement of new discoveries rather than all this naval gazing!<br />
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<br />Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-77224765972845857702017-11-11T13:28:00.002-08:002017-11-11T13:28:30.676-08:00Only Connect<div class="quoteText">
In E.M Forster's novel, Howard's End, there is the following quote: <span style="color: #660000;">“Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon...Live in fragments no longer.” </span></div>
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I love Forster's writing, but the essence of this quote keeps on coming back to me. It seems to me that quite often we live in fragments, the various strands of our lives are kept separate and we allow ourselves to spend inordinate amounts of energy keeping secrets, hiding parts of our true selves and only living a half life. Sometimes this is due to fear or an inability to be honest with ourselves.</div>
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The more we keep parts of our life in boxes, the less we can truly be ourselves and live the life we imagined. Life isn't about burning bridges each time our lives are difficult, it isn't about cutting ties, cutting ourselves off from other people. We need to make and keep connecting with people, especially when life is tough.</div>
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We often forget that life is actually a solo journey, and we must be happy alone before we can be happy with others. We cannot rely on another person to make us happy, and we generally cannot blame them if we are miserable. But that doesn't mean we should merely lean upon our own understanding. Other people can put things into perspective, and allow us to live outside of our own heads. Without that support we can blunder through life and lack the clarity to realise when we are heading the wrong way.<br />
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If we don't talk, if we don't engage in life, then we don't learn from our mistakes and we don't grow as people. Life has sadnesses and disappointments and isn't always particularly kind to us. Sometimes we put our trust in people who aren't worth our trust and sometimes good people make a mess of things. But we should always try to be kind.</div>
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We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.<br /> Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/authors/e_m_forster</div>
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Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-48611092772401405542017-10-04T05:37:00.004-07:002017-10-04T05:42:01.712-07:00Who am I? This year has been so very difficult and yet I am still finding some glimpses and light amongst the darkness. As I mentioned before, art and creativity have become a central part to my life. I am lucky in that I have the space to dedicate to this, as well as a small amount of talent and self confidence that pushes me to experiment and not give up.<br />
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My studio is the centre of the house - the place I go to paint, to draw, to muse on ideas and to potter. It has also become the place where I am developing a sense of who I am. I've realised that I've always used my surroundings to develop creatively, even as a teenager I would arrange my bedroom so that I had some nice pictures, a favourite card or piece of pottery. In more recent years, my home has become an expression of who I am. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOAd95I9LyGe1xsXXFTtNCPuv10OiRZdi-boLYQMUSAFMwCKUQsFj0BEPcXDRpbGH7c1xazjfV5Q-eUSBUTogY6M9qI8lJzOSYQvV7V9-UuixScTNXRS3YBwzwBrptEGv7XFGXR-zsQVpD/s400/20171003_074853.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">My studio</span></td></tr>
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I will always be in love with furniture, pottery and music of the 1930s and 1940s, and my house reflects that. The first thing I bought for the house was an old gramophone! In the same way, a house without books is barely a home to me. I'm not snobbish about what those books are and have a very ecletic mix of books - from classics, to modern novels, biographies, history, books about musicians and artists, and an increasing collection of Agatha Christie novels.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Home</span></td></tr>
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Having spent a lot of time reading about Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant, and having visited their wonderful home at Charleston in East Sussex as well as Virginia Woolf's home at Monks House, I like the idea of my home reflecting something about who I am and not just being a place to lay my head. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Monks House, Rodmell</span></td></tr>
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I am perhaps musing on my home more because I was recently away on a much needed break in Devon. It is such a wonderful spot and the River Dart is now officially the most beautiful river in the world.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The River Dart at Dartmouth</span></td></tr>
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Getting away can often give us a new perspective. I went away feeling confused and overwhelmed by life's changes, and now I'm back I'm determined to enjoy my life, appreciate what is wonderful about it, and accept how things are. And I do think that creativity and art will help me in that.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50TPl1bSK_IBI9UqLicTQLpTo59ZQTXUTVvTF1X8ctjWjF_sxOHCXcTVkxbDpEueQ3_evxWjsz_IWgCpzfBE7XxZC0l7hbnjlCJxHYSeTr-jVrdn3TA8Spk0feJRdEqSyCBQwTZt3Lp8i/s1600/20170925_113843.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50TPl1bSK_IBI9UqLicTQLpTo59ZQTXUTVvTF1X8ctjWjF_sxOHCXcTVkxbDpEueQ3_evxWjsz_IWgCpzfBE7XxZC0l7hbnjlCJxHYSeTr-jVrdn3TA8Spk0feJRdEqSyCBQwTZt3Lp8i/s400/20170925_113843.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The River Dart from Greenway</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #660000;">“I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow; </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;">but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.”<br />― Agatha Christie</span></div>
Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-36263750974139295882017-08-30T02:26:00.003-07:002017-08-30T02:26:41.668-07:00Sitting in my studio<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My life has changed this year, old certainties have fractured and more than ever it would be easy to doubt everything about myself. In spite of all of this, one part of me has actually flowered and developed lately - my life as an artist. There was a time not so long ago that I would have baulked at even calling myself an artist. </div>
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If an artist is someone who creates art and prioritises creativity, then that is what I am. I don't pretend to be of professional standard, I don't want to sell my work (and I'm not consistent enough in effort or talent!), but art and creativity in general is essential to my happiness and even my mental health.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhm8EIGlCAe67yLMNqcgrBecDdESp_EI7OeugTWFjbqdD6uZC3pZ-kjOez4VDeJlBLeywT3QKgdIVq_BPSRWdojmZG9-RTCJGuGrkDh72FWifbWBroXCqTIjUAWCTd98YLEXD1J6u0ATs/s1600/21081371_10154789034991190_253853338_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhm8EIGlCAe67yLMNqcgrBecDdESp_EI7OeugTWFjbqdD6uZC3pZ-kjOez4VDeJlBLeywT3QKgdIVq_BPSRWdojmZG9-RTCJGuGrkDh72FWifbWBroXCqTIjUAWCTd98YLEXD1J6u0ATs/s400/21081371_10154789034991190_253853338_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Recently I've turned a cluttered barely used spare room into a spacious, colourful studio. It is utter bliss! No more packing everything away after every project, or never knowing where anything is. All my art, sewing and creative projects have a place to go.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBZ_LLXSroHKBo2f7aPCcDU0o5P4JQpT8vC0Apoc8jKOQC8Peop6HT78jJM5CD4iSxkh3K1Y6HUApPj4Soc34YDIiWD-J83xvJoZK4_e3IO-bnYvE8RkF9gB2ZcU5MZP_s4Izdfe9hK2S/s1600/21057292_10154789035421190_1863289446_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBZ_LLXSroHKBo2f7aPCcDU0o5P4JQpT8vC0Apoc8jKOQC8Peop6HT78jJM5CD4iSxkh3K1Y6HUApPj4Soc34YDIiWD-J83xvJoZK4_e3IO-bnYvE8RkF9gB2ZcU5MZP_s4Izdfe9hK2S/s400/21057292_10154789035421190_1863289446_o.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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My art books are nearby and inspire me to be a better artist and to learn more about the artists I love - Eric Ravilious, Tirzah Garwood, Edward Bawden, Gwen John, Henri Matisse, John Nash and John Piper are currently interesting me and I want to read more about them. </div>
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I have several projects that I want to do in addition to drawing and painting - a rag rug which will eventually be used in the studio itself, a needle felted Herdwick sheep that will sit on a shelf and remind me of a wonderful holiday to the Lakes a few years ago. There is also a quilt project which I started last year but a recent viewing of the film 'How to make an American quilt' has inspired me to continue!</div>
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Sometimes I love to just go and sit in my studio and enjoy the space and light. It has the best light in the house, even on a dull day and having this room has made me feel excited about art again. </div>
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<br />Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-26740313093676562962017-07-13T05:59:00.001-07:002017-07-13T06:34:02.096-07:00Whatever you focus on expandsI've been learning a lot about myself lately. I've been trying to look at my life and discover what is important to me and how I want to live my life. Through all the reading and discovery I found a phrase that has really helped; 'Whatever you focus on expands'.<br />
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I may sound a bit like a hippy with this, but there is a lot of truth in a very short sentence. If I spend all my waking moments looking backwards, having regrets, wishing that things had turned out differently, then my life could easily become entirely negative. Almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy, if you like. We cannot change the past, but we can learn from it and make sure we don't make our future miserable because we are stuck in limbo, unable to move forward. In the same way, we cannot change how others behave or what they are focussing on, they have to make their own decisions about what they want in life.<br />
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I am pretty self aware, and I know that my loved ones are always the most important part of my life, but I have a tendency to put them first, sometimes at the expense of my own sense of self. I feel I need to be slightly more selfish and to be honest, probably more demanding. My needs and desires are important.<br />
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It is times like this when being creative or immersing yourself in a project or form of study can help. It doesn't mean you ignore life's problems, but that for a time, your brain is focussed on the act of creating or learning and not concentrating on your own thoughts. I feel that by using my creativity, that will make me more creative and the more creative I am, the happier and more 'myself' I feel. So to that end, I've made a list of creative things I want to learn to do, or do more of:<br />
<ol>
<li>To learn to play the ukelele</li>
<li>To design and make a rag rug</li>
<li>To do more needle felting</li>
<li>To draw and paint as often as possible</li>
<li>To go to as many art exhibitions as possible</li>
<li>To create a garden that is as much a haven for wildlife as it is an artist's garden</li>
<li>To write in the blog as often as I can</li>
</ol>
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</style>
<![endif]-->
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I'd love it if you could comment with the projects you are interested in or want to do more of!Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-5044554246466515312017-06-29T13:54:00.001-07:002017-06-29T13:54:06.670-07:00Seeing the whole picture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When in a rush to see a painting that I know I will love, say a Vanessa Bell, or a Monet, it can be easy to walk past other works that don't draw you in so readily. Some paintings don't easily reveal their importance or interest. Quite often the subject matter can put me off, for example I know I get bored by Dutch sea scapes and surrealist art and I find some abstract art souless.<br />
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The other day, I came across this painting. It is called <i>Timber Run in the Welsh hills</i>, by Lucy Kemp-Welsh. I almost walked past quickly, as I'm not particularly interested in horses and I almost dismissed it. <br />
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Then I stopped. Rather than dismiss this painting as a twee evocation of the countryside past, I thought I ought to see if there was any interest. It was painted in the 1930s, a time when a lot of artists I'm interested in were working. So I looked a lot closer, so close, I could see individual brushstrokes.</div>
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And it felt like a bit of a revelation. This close up, the whole canvas really sung! The colours were warm and expressive, the style painterly and energetic and I found myself spending a lot of time looking at the paint more than the subject matter. I then found small details that I found fascinating and could have been paintings on their own merit. <br />
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Small figures of farm workers, tree bark and distant fields brought this painting alive for me. I was particularly taken with this figure against a patchwork of fields. It was as if this painting was teaching me something - about not dismissing anything out of hand, without trying to find some interest or merit. My lack of interest in horses could have stopped me even looking at all. So often we don't see the value in something right in front of us, and can even take things for granted. Perhaps we need to stop sometimes, and look at things a little differently.<br />
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<span style="color: #660000;">Art is not what you see, but what you make others see - Degas</span></div>
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<br />Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-72247628148844701682017-06-19T04:57:00.005-07:002017-06-19T05:00:46.816-07:00Flaming JuneThe swifts are screaming overhead, swooping and dipping over the houses. The air pulsates and shimmers with midsummer heat. All the freshness and newness of spring and early summer is turning into abundance and fecundity. High summer is a time for dreaming under a tree, for sitting and musing, for making lemonade and staring at the clouds.<br />
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I wonder sometimes whether our experience of summer is only partly about the here and now. It seems to be more about summers long ago, of lost loves and memories of walks over hills and downs, of views from cliffs and through shady woodlands. Many summers exist in our memories and the warmth gently releases them. Maybe future summers will bring such warm and happy memories again.<br />
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That sense of looking back to a former summertime, has been at foreground of my thoughts lately, especially when I've been reading JL Carr's A Month in the Country. A sense of melancholy and happiness mingle together as Tom Birkin appears in the village in the summer of 1920, still damaged from war experiences and the break up of his marriage. Joy and pain are parts of the human experience, and are often so very closely related. The book uses poetic details of roses in bloom, and the buzz of a field filled with insects to give a sense of hope and light amongst the darkness of Tom's past. <br />
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One of the most intriging things in the book is that sense of those fleeting moments that can be remembered but never entirely brought back again.<br />
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<span style="color: #660000;">“And, at such a time, for a few of us there will always be a tugging at the heart—knowing a precious moment had gone and we not there. We can ask and ask but we can’t have again what once seemed ours for ever—the way things looked, that church alone in the fields, a bed on belfry floor, a remembered voice, a loved face. They’ve gone and you can only wait for the pain to pass. ” </span><br />
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There is never however a feeling that there is no hope. Hope is still very much part of this story. We can never go back to that long forgotten summer, but we can look forward to future long days of glorious warmth and light. <br />
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<span style="color: #660000;">"It is now or never; we must snatch at happiness as it flies."</span></div>
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<br />Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-50176577075065064282017-05-16T13:34:00.001-07:002017-05-16T13:36:54.343-07:00On her own terms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I sit and write this evening after an wonderfully exhilarating visit to the Vanessa Bell retrospective at Dulwich Picture Gallery. There were over 100 oil paintings, book cover designs, fabric and rug designs, as well as photographs ranging from the early 1900s until just before her death in 1961. The exhibition was split into themes, such as still life, portraits, and showed just how wide ranging and hugely interesting her work is.<br />
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Vanessa Bell is often subsumed as an artist into the whole Bloomsbury group, where she can feel like a shadowy figure behind Duncan Grant, rather than an equally interesting and important artist of that time. She didn't stand still, she was influenced by the Post Impressionists and by Matisse in her early years, but she developed her own styles over time, painting subjects she was interested in, decorating her homes as she wanted, and designing fabrics that still look modern a hundred years after she designed them.<br />
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At her best she was bold and experimental, channelling her interests and passions into her art, dabbling in abstraction and new styles. Some of her most interesting works are her portraits of her friends and family. There is a real tenderness in many of these works, especially those of her children. Her self portraits are rather different, almost severe and uncompromising, her gaze critical and serious.<br />
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As I walked around the exhibition, I did wonder whether some of the more dismissive of her critics would have the same opinion if she was male. Her work is often ignored as it seems to concentrate on home and family, or stories about her private life threaten to overwhelm her achievements.<br />
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I
have a real love of her still lifes, which are exquisite and warm and
make me want to pick up my own paint brushes more often and to grow a
wide range of flowers just in order to paint them. In the same way, when I've been to Charleston, her home for many years, I just want to learn to make rugs, to design fabrics, to continue to make my home a place of creativity. Perhaps that is quite a wonderful thing, for an artist to inspire people to make their own art and to take up new crafts and to be encouraged to live their life as they see fit.Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-47568521478743031812017-04-26T06:36:00.002-07:002017-04-26T06:36:29.363-07:00A Novel Experience...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #660000;">“That's what I love about reading: one tiny thing will interest you in a
book, and that tiny thing will lead you to another book, and another
bit there will lead you onto a third book. It's geometrically
progressive - all with no end in sight, and for no other reason than
sheer enjoyment.” </span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #660000;">―
<span style="color: #660000;">Mary Ann Shaffer</span>,
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The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society</span></i>
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Sometimes when life feels painful, overwhelming or difficult, or even just slightly dull, the only thing that can make it feel better is reading a book. Immersing oneself into someone else's story, can sometimes be the only thing that allows you to get away from real life and enter into another world entirely. Novels by Barbara Pym, Elizabeth Jane Howard or Mary Wesley are particularly interesting to me, and I always love reading a good murder mystery, especially from the 1930s and 40s.</div>
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Although I've been a bookworm for most of my life, in the last year when my life has been quite tough, I've increased the number of novels I've read and recently I've even joined a book club to get into the habit of reading different books I'd otherwise never know about. It was through a book club that I learned about a wonderful book 'The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society' by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. It seems on the surface to be a novel about 1940s Guernsey and the German occupation, however it is really about community, friendship, love of books and the importance of these in our lives.</div>
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<span style="color: #660000;">“We clung to books and to our friends; they reminded us that we had another part to us.”<br /><i>― Annie Barrows, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society</i> </span></div>
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Novels can reflect something of our human experience, the pain, misery and confusion as well as the joy, friendship and love. If we are lucky, the characters' lives can chime in with our own feelings and thoughts. In the best of novels, love stories aren't simplistic and constantly happy, but they acknowledge that people are flawed and even the best of people are capable of inflicting hurt and confusion. People can be redeemed in life as well as in a story, but the reality is always somewhat more messy. <br />
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In Matt Haig's wonderful book 'How to Stay Alive', he suggests things that can help with depression and recommends books as a way of understanding ourselves as well as other people. Even if we aren't depressed or having an awful time, books have always shown us what it is to be human.<br />
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<span style="color: #660000;">"Every book written is the product of a human mind in a particular state. Add all the books together and you get the end sum of humanity. Every time I read a great book I felt I was reading a kind of map, a treasure map, and the treasure I was being directed to was in actual fact myself."<br /><i>― Matt Haig, Reasons to Stay Alive </i></span></div>
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As I struggle with life changes, when feeling confused and as “My worries travel around in my head on their well worn path” I know that there are stories there on the bookshelf to soothe my weary soul. </div>
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<span style="color: #660000;">“People wonder why the novel is the most popular form of literature;
people wonder why it is read more than books of science or books of
metaphysics. The reason is very simple; it is merely that the novel is
more true than they are.”
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G.K. Chesterton</span></div>
Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-56835058147559634302017-04-19T04:00:00.003-07:002017-04-19T04:00:57.023-07:00Deep shame and wild abandon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've recently become quite obsessive about the art of Auguste Rodin. Luckily Southampton Art Gallery has several of his sculptures on show. There is a work called 'Crouching Woman' which seems like an almost impossible figure. There is something almost frog like about the pose, although much like many of Rodin's female figures, there is something very earthy, uninhibited and intimate about it. Its alternative title is 'Lust' and he does indeed seem to rejoice in the female form in a very real way.</div>
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Rodin's Eve, a version of which is also at Southampton, was modelled by his some time mistress and much underrated artist, Gwen John. Unlike the majority of his female figures, this shows a different side to womanhood, a deep shame and sadness. Eve is ashamed of our gaze at her naked body, she tries to hide herself.</div>
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There has been much discussion about the way women are portrayed in art, where women are often seen as either saints or sinners, as pious or wanton. The reality in life as well as in art is often somewhere in the middle. Rodin himself does seem to be very honest in his depiction of the female form. He was known as somewhat of a womaniser in his lifetime, but his love of the female form doesn't always fit into neat categories. Even the figure of Eve is beautiful and sensual, even if she shows her shame. </div>
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Just behind the figure of Eve is a very different figure, in Clipsham stone. It is called <i>Music in the Trees</i>, by Josephine Alys de Vasconcellos. The style is redolent of art deco sculpture and shows a rather different portrayal of the female nude. Here she is strong, neither saint nor sinner, and very much part of nature. </div>
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<span id="goog_714395353">I was very pleased at the juxtaposition of the two works, showing deep shame and wild abandon within a small corner of the hall. I like to think it questions our often limited views of women and their portrayal in art.</span><br />
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<span id="goog_714395353"> </span>Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6407768756182356051.post-67776584517559141092017-02-21T05:52:00.002-08:002018-02-14T03:20:29.521-08:00Why Mildred Lathbury?As this is a new blog, I wanted to explain why I've called it the Musings of Mildred Lathbury. In the last year, as so many things in my life have changed, I have rediscovered the wonderful writings of Barbara Pym. I even wrote about my love for her work in an old blog post. which you can read here:-<br />
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<a href="http://taleshazelcottage.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/the-small-things-of-life.html">http://taleshazelcottage.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/the-small-things-of-life.html </a><br />
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Barbara Pym's writings are often about spinsters and subtle longings, but the timeless way she describes the inner monologue of her characters has really struck a chord. The main character of Excellent Women was one Mildred Lathbury, a wonderfully real character, who made me laugh and cry in equal measure.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">“My thoughts went round and round and it occurred to me that if I ever wrote a novel it would be of the 'stream of consciousness' type and deal with an hour in the life of a woman at the sink.” ― Barbara Pym, Excellent Women </span></b><br />
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I often wonder about painting a portrait of how I think Mildred should look and post it on the blog. If I get around to it, and it doesn't look too awful, I will put it on a later post.<br />
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<br />Hazel Cottagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02196032526250967362noreply@blogger.com0