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IT'S AN AEON AND A MINUTE
since I stood on that shore looking out over the then unknown seas of
motherhood which were to wash over me just a few days after this photo
was taken. And now my baby boy, deepest joy of my heart, is nearly 7
months old! Words feel strange on my tongue and under my fingers, it
will take me a while yet to find good ones to weave around this new
story of motherhood in all its depths, and the Rima that writes this now
is a different one from the young woman looking out to sea there. But I
am starting to feel a creative spring as the autumn falls on us in
Dartmoor, and I am wondering how I might continue working as an artist
whilst mothering. I feel all of you out there wondering at our news too,
though spending time near a computer has proved almost impossible for
me so far, so different are the ways of being required to be with my
child and with a laptop!
Much
has been happening in our life and work since I was last here. Since
the momentous Becoming-Three which happened at the end of February when
snows were still falling, we've moved through spring and summer and
we've left house life behind, selling many of our belongings in a rainy
but enjoyable yard sale, and we've moved into a 16 foot yurt near to
where the truck build is happening. I have work in three exhibitions, Hannah Willow & Friends at Obsidian Art in Buckinghamshire, a wondrous new gallery in Portland, Oregon: The Fernie Brae, and a winter show yet to come in our local Green Hill Arts
Gallery in Moretonhampstead, Devon. All of this feels quite amazing
given that I've hardly made any art all year! We have been out with my
red handcart - a lovely creation made by our friend Eric from old doors
and bicycle wheels from a drawing I gave him - selling my work on the
streets of Totnes.
The truck build continues in its wonderful slow and majestic way, we hope to have an update on its progress soon over at Hedgespoken. During all the welding and decision-making and wood-planing and painting and hammering, a filmmaker from Germany, Marie Elisa Scheidt, has been accompanying our journey for a final piece for her studies. We are one of three protagonists in her documentary, which has a working title of Our Wildest Dreams, and which you can see glimpses of here. These two pictures below, taken earlier in the year, when both babe and truck-home were not quite so grown, are by her.
The truck build continues in its wonderful slow and majestic way, we hope to have an update on its progress soon over at Hedgespoken. During all the welding and decision-making and wood-planing and painting and hammering, a filmmaker from Germany, Marie Elisa Scheidt, has been accompanying our journey for a final piece for her studies. We are one of three protagonists in her documentary, which has a working title of Our Wildest Dreams, and which you can see glimpses of here. These two pictures below, taken earlier in the year, when both babe and truck-home were not quite so grown, are by her.
These
days we are living in a circular space amid a copse of trees. We wake
to hazel nuts being thrown down on our roof by squirrels and nuthatches,
and fall asleep to owls, hooing close by our canvas walls.
Once
more we're living a life where water and wood must be carried, and
washing up must be done by lamplight. It is wonderful beyond words to be
living with the leaves again, though different and harder with a baby,
it feels so much lighter and righter than the house did. The view from
our door looks like this:
But
there is one thing I have managed to create with my hands since having a
baby, and of this I am immensely proud. When Tom and I first met, we
planned to make a book together; and five years later, having first
created an even more incredible being together, we've finally made our
first book - a small and beautiful chapbook, litho-printed on recycled
paper by a workers' coop - this is Sometimes A Wild God, Tom's
widely-loved poem, illustrated with six little ink drawings by me, which
I did at night when little one was finally sleeping, though I wanted so
much to be sleeping too... it was hard, and I felt very out of
practice, but the constraints have forced a new kind of work out of me,
and I think this is an interesting beginning. I hope you'll all go and
have a look, you can order one for £7.50 from anywhere in the world at the Hedgespoken Shop.
We are really proud of this, and excited that it heralds for us a new
chapter of book making. But we need you all to support this endeavour by
buying copies, spreading the word for us, and asking for it in your
local bookshop or library.
Over the last couple of years, some of you have asked about buying the original Weed Wife
painting, which I created in oils on burr oak in 2013. Up till now, it
hasn't been for sale, I have felt it a deeply special painting and have
been unsure how to put a price on it. However, we're now at a crucial
point with our truck build, and struggling to make ends meet now that my
income has all but disappeared. So, I am considering for the first time
selling this painting if the right person comes along and offers me a
sum I feel I could exchange it for. If you feel that might be you,
please get in touch and let me know how much you might be willing to pay
for it, and we can take it from there. I'd love for it to end up in
some Herbal library or Wilderness school or somesuch, but perhaps you
know of a place and a person who should have it... 
There is so very much to tell you, I don't know where to begin, and
finding the right thread of story and secret is hard. I don't want to
put pictures of my boy all over the internet, nor write his name, so
these are just glimpses of back of head and little feet. But I do want
to share some of my experiences as I go along, and hear from those of
you amazing women who have gone before me, mothering and making art,
mothering and living on the edges of things. I have a new-found awe for
all women who do this most sacred of tasks. From the deep love and
profound tiredness I salute you!
