I am, rather oddly, deciding to write about the Equinox that just passed on 20th March, some days after the event. This is no surprise to me, however; I always miss it! You’d think I would be more in touch with this annual event, as I live near Stroud, where many a Morris dancer, or just your rather lovely Stroudie, will gather on common land above the beautiful Five Valleys (not the shopping centre of the same name) to mark the changing of the season, and really celebrate it. Many people I know will get up early on this date, to greet the new dawn, and yet every time this somehow passes me by until I see it on Instagram the next day. I curse that being the way I realise I’ve missed it, again, and for not being the folky artist type I would really quite like to be. Or, perhaps I am really cursing myself for not being as in tune with the seasons and the daylight hours, because nature really does matter to me. But unlike our ancestors, I don’t know what time the sun rises from one month to the next, because I’m not out tending the land, feeding my livestock, and listening to the birdsong. I’m tucked up in my bed, likely fast asleep, ready for the inevitable digital awakening that jolts me into action… rather than romantically rising with the lark.

This year, like the five before it, the event that did pop into my head in the run up to 20th March, was the start of lockdown in 2020, because I will never forget it. Because on 20th March, six years ago, my children, (and all children, pretty much), were not allowed to go to school anymore. Just a handful of days after being reassured it was perfectly safe to send them in, we had the government telling us it wasn’t. That surreal mix of fear, anger, and disbelief still sticks rather clearly in the head of this mother of three.

And the chaos of the days, weeks and months after, is something my family talk about often. We got off lightly here: our children (then 4, 6 and 8 years old) were at ages I think it was easier on, than others. Our children weren’t teens forced into miserable isolation at a pivotal moment, or older students deprived of their university experience… nor were we elderly stuck in care homes, or mothers giving birth alone and raising newborns they had to show to family through closed windows. We also didn’t lose people we loved, though it came pretty close. Me and my children look back on elements of the first 2020 lockdown with its wonderful weather, with a weird nostalgia. The second lockdown, later in the year, by which time the village school had embraced online learning, was another thing entirely.

But how did I go down that rabbit hole? Well, I suppose what I have realised is that the changing of the seasons is something I would much rather mark and remember than the advent of a virus, however big its impact was. And ritual is something I really admire and would like more of in my life.

Last year, I did at least design and name a fabric after this shift in the calendar. ‘Vernal’ is a really simple pattern that captures little raindrops, a happy cloud shape, uplifted branches and new leaves forming. This a fabric I think of as joyous and positive. Imagine the sort of weather that brings about a rainbow; sunny and bright but lightly raining… the perfect conditions for growing. That was what I was thinking about when I drew, carved and printed this pattern.

I’m very much an in-the-moment person in regards to what inspires my work, and find it hard to design ahead of the season I’m experiencing. Christmas in July? No, I can’t do it! But to leave you on a cliffhanger, I am intending to design a new summer themed greetings card in the next couple of weeks and I am collecting reference images from my own extensive camera roll from last year. Will I manage it? Probably only if the sun shines.

Thanks for reading,
Susie

At the end of last year, an impending house and studio move brought my social media presence and newsletter output to a grinding halt. It was tricky enough to make time for doing the work; I certainly didn’t have capacity for sharing it. My brain was full of solicitor emails (why is the property system so flawed?) and logistics. It was almost a full time job just delivering donations to charity shops as we attempted to de-clutter. This maximalist was up against it!

The move was intended to make life simpler; a downsize, a bit of a lifestyle change, a house with less maintenance. But getting there, even though it was a move within the same village, was a lot slower and harder than I imagined.

The disruption to our working lives continued into January, and then when we finally moved at the end of that month, I replaced this stress with excitement. A new garden! A new project! And at the same time, I had made a New Year’s resolution to use my phone less. That was surprisingly easy; I had plenty of distractions to stop me overriding the new app limits I had set. But all of this meant I had disappeared in terms of online presence. So, I’ve not been posting much, but I have enjoyed preserving my head space and settling into our new home.

This break in communicating made me think it might be a good idea to resume a more regular habit of posting in a different space. I want to try a new format, and long form is my default mode, so I thought an occasional Substack post full of pattern, inspiration and a bit of news when I have it, might be worth trying. Thanks for reading this far… I hope I can hold your (and my) attention enough to keep this going!

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A pattern a month

The new house doesn’t yet have a proper space for me to work in, so I am perched in a corner with stock squirelled away in every room. But work I must, and whilst I operate with a temporary set-up, lino carving is much easier to accommodate than lino printing. For the latter I need a sink that can get inky, and space to let things dry.

Last year I created a new limited edition framed print every month (you can see and buy them here) and I would like to get back to this sort of rhythm. But for now, let me show you the lino block backlog that is yet to be inked. It is an interesting way to work – in phases – but now I am getting impatient to print more regularly again.

Exploring new communities

As a side project (as if I needed more of those!) I am also exploring the possibilities of simple, shorter form workshops in pattern making, as an accessible way bring the mindfullness of printing to more people.

Last year I ran some drop-in workshops with pre-carved stamps I had made, and a whole host of people enjoyed selecting and sharing stamps and colours to create their own unique patterns. A short session like this is very playful and intuative, and I have come to realise it can engage old and young, with great results. I would like to take this pattern making workshop to a broader mix of people, and have started to investigate the best way to do this. More on this, coming soon.

I’ll end on a mixture of inspiration photos and work in progress. As the sun comes out and nature springs back to life, so does my creative spirit, and it is good to have it back.

Thank you for your support,

Susie