Sunshine

Sunshine

When the sun shines at this time of year it is wonderful. The daylight hours are still getting shorter as we approach the Winter Solstice and any reminder of the bright, balmy sunny days of the summer make me glad.

Bright sunlight captures the beauty of the delicate details.

I have just come back from a fairly short walk along the promenade in Tankerton. I decided that on these rare bright sunny clear winter days, it is better to go out and walk for a short time rather than put off the event to another day. Yes, there are always more ‘useful’ things I could be doing, especially at this busy time of year, but needs must and I have a new reason to prioritise walking.

 

The sequel to 'The Artists Way'.

I have just started reading ‘Walking in this World’, by Julia Cameron. I have had the book for about 7 years, even through my MA, which focussed on how people encounter the world as they walk, but even then I did not think to pick it up and read it. But now is the time, going into the depths of winter and facing decreasing light, I know that this book will guide me.

Walking in this world.

I have got so much out of her other books, including ‘The Artists Way’, that I am really excited to be starting on this journey. I know it will be informative and enjoyable.

Another artist who I am hoping to work with in the New Year is also reading the book at the same time, so I am hoping we can compare notes. ‘Walking in this World’, encourages use of three tools to achieve greater creativity. These are ‘Morning Pages’, ‘Artists Date’ and ‘Weekly Walk’. I do the first two things as this was the practice set up years ago when I read her first book. The last ‘tool’, I have been doing anyway.

Bright sunshine and dark shadows.

So I am hoping that the book will be a good read in the dark evenings and the walks will be a delight in the precious daylight time we have during the winter.

‘Great artists are actually great amateurs,’ she writes in the introduction, ‘They have learned to wriggle out of the seriousness of rigid categorization and allow themselves to pursue the Pied Piper of Delight.’

Light and Shadow

I have thought a lot about my blog entry from last week when I wanted to write about perspectives, and how we can view something from another place.

Whilst walking up at Victory Wood, overlooking the Isle of Sheppey and the wonderful panoramic views that come from being in a new wood, with ‘baby’ trees, I recognised that each season of the year gives us a changing perspective of the place.

The sculpture frames the view back inland.

Myself and a couple of good friends walked up to the main sculpture that overlooks the view and we shared hot coffee and home made cake. It was so cold; we were wrapped up in scarves, gloves and hats. Back in the summer in that same place I had tried to get some shade and watched quietly as a stripy caterpillar worked its way slowly across the sculpture.

Prism people.

We didn’t hang around for long this week as even the dog started to shiver after just a few minutes, the wind coming off the sea was bitter and we knew we needed to walk to keep warm.

We walked around the plateau towards the established, older woodland at the West edge and went into it.

 

The woods on the west side of Victory Wood.

It was a real contrast from the last time I had ventured in. That time, it was a respite from the burning high sun, we went into the much needed cooler shade, following the path, but the woods scale was unknown, I hadn’t brought my map with me then and had no idea of the size. I remember I was wearing sandals that day and my feet were almost constantly being bitten by large wood ants if I stood still for any amount of time.

But on this cold winter day, as we entered the woods, I could immediately see through the bare skeleton trees to the surrounding hills. 

 

Clearer visibility through the trees allowed recognition of the surrounding hills.

The visibility was great; I was able to locate myself in the wood, recognising the topographical features in the distance, through the trees. Plus there were no ants that I could see that could target my toes and set me squealing and running away.

The sunlight created bright beams on the floor of the wood and trees themselves.

I was immediately aware of the sunlight driving a bright channel through the trees. It lit up lines across the leafy floor and shone brightly on tree trunks and other objects in its path.

The contrast of light and shade was fascinating.

The light shone strongly through the wood, it reached the furthest places, even if it was just a sliver of bright white reflected on the bark, it could be seen clearly in the distance.

Likewise shadows were cast around the wood, creating some very strong dynamic forms onto the horizontal and vertical surfaces.

 

Tree shadows on and over other trees.

The leaves themselves acted as a neutral colour to this strong play of light and dark, revealing a couple of times, wonderful inconspicuous gems.

Spot the mushroom!

I came across a mushroom poking its way through the  leaf ‘litter’, a yellow chestnut leaf in a sea of brown oak leaves and emerald green lichen ‘climbing’ its way up a tree trunk.

Bright green moss and lichen at the base of a tree, by the path.

Looking up as I walked along the path I could clearly see the sky where the trees were less dense and remembered this was an important marker for the path and reminded me of the only way I was able to find my way home one very dark night when I lived in Berkshire.

Path showing finer overhead tree canopy.

Salvation

Back then, the nearest pub was in a neighbouring village and we had walked there in the dusk, through the woods, with the greying sky reflected in the puddles along the track. On the way home, there was no moonlight at all; there was dark and a darker dark, which were the trees in the wood. We were able to find our way home by looking upward, following the track from above, seeing where the darkest dark, the trees, was the thinnest.

A beloved and dear friend who is now sadly no longer with us, also got lost in the woods that night. She ended up sitting by a tree, upset and forlorn, expecting to find her way back by first light. She delightedly told me the next day that her cats had saved her from a cold night in the woods. She had been resigned to wait but then she heard her cats meowing and called them to her. They then walked in front of her meowing the way forward until she saw her house. 

 

Time, seasons, scale, light and dark, all of these aspects and more can affect our perspective; it is not just the direction in which we are walking that can affect the view of where we are. Walking is a gift, if we are able to physically move, we must, and in doing so we can get a whole new perspective on life…  

Fungi, moss, lichen and light.

         

 (I completed my MA in September 2014 and recorded the last two months of it in another blog called www.thesaltwayfarer.blogspot.co.uk

Please feel free to look at that anytime, as it is from that, that I am where I am now.)

Perspectives

Perspectives

I thought this week I could write about perspectives, how we view something from another place. I was going to walk in a familiar place but come at it from a different direction.

Seasalter beach looking East.

I thought that Seasalter beach would give me the opportunity to walk out towards the sea on the vast expanse of mussel beds and muddy shingle, not skirting the coast but striding out, northwards, towards the Isle of Sheppey.

 

Seasalter Beach heading West.

But, I hadn’t taken account of what the tide was doing. It was fully in and on the turn but going out very slowly due to the ferocious chilly wind blowing in from the heavy grey expanse of sky to our North.

Birds perching out at sea

So the perspective of the walk that I was looking forward to, one of contemplation, with a feeling of possession, looking inland from out on the mussel beds, didn’t happen. I could have checked my tide table, it is an essential tool in the summer months to know when I can easily either swim in the sea or go out on the mud, looking for fossils or clay to make pots etc. But I didn’t, I don’t tend to look at it so much as the weather gets colder, so instead we had went around the coast again, towards Faversham, walking close against the seawall, watching the brown rough waves slop onto the exposed thin strip of beach.

Timber, old, exposed and weathered.

We didn’t see any Brent Geese, I should think they have ventured further up the coast, towards the Thames estuary; they will be more protected there for the coming wintery months ahead.

Weathered detail of timber.

Looking at a familiar place from a different perspective could be seen as a metaphor for life itself. We all have our favourite, tried and tested routes, ways to do something which we are comfortable with and familiar, but it can be liberating to go against the flow and walk in another direction.

 

Seeing the familiar, close up.

This is what creativity thrives on, as seeing the familiar from another place can spark a curiosity that feeds and nurtures an open creative mind. 

Light

 As we approach the shortest day of the year, the 21^st of December, I am reminded how much I love sunlight, especially this precious low glow of sun that can be enjoyed now.

Brilliant dazzling sunlight on a clear December day.

A couple of weekends ago I went to a day long event held in a friend’s studio. We had lunch outside and basked in the sun, which now holds just a little warmth.

 

Sunlit exterior space.

But it is the sunlight itself that we all enjoyed, the brightness, the way it made the colours of the remaining summer flowers deeply glow.

Beautiful Geranium flower, glowing in the sun.

That is how I feel in this precious sun, I feel I glow, it illuminates me, it lifts my soul and I feel good. As the day progressed it quickly became more evident in the studio that the daylight was waning and we appreciated the low glow of the candles which were lit.

The candles glowed more brightly as the day became darker.

Every year I try to spend at least one evening around this time, just in candlelight. I think it will be romantic, festive and allow me to go to bed early! But every year, I realise that the reality is that I still need those dark hours illuminated by electric light to do all the chores that need doing such as cooking, clearing up, homework etc.

 

'Bunny Ears' capturing the setting sun on their soft surfaces.

Our lives are regulated not by the natural timely element of daylight hours but by the invention of clocks, electric light and routine. We tend to have a daily routine that overrides the seasonal changes taking place. We must be the only animal on the planet that actively works against seasonal changes that are happening. The Brent Geese that I had seen at Seasalter and on Whitstable beach earlier in the season had known it was time to fly 2500 miles from Siberia to our warmer shores. My bantams will not start laying eggs until the daylight hours become longer again and the leaves will not start to grow on the trees until the sap rises in the spring.

 

Brilliant Spring Green foliage on the beach shingle, above the tide line.

Yet we carry on regardless. No wonder we feel exhausted.

Seasonal Experience

Walking and being outside as much as possible throughout the year does give me a healthy awareness of the changing of the seasons. I think we need this to understand where we are in the yearly cycle. As the days grow shorter I have really tried this year to take things a bit easier, to not push myself so much, to enjoy the moment, to just be. I see winter as a time for introspection, a time to contemplate the past year and reflect on its gifts.

Precious flowers.

I heard a wonderful quote last week which took the (self-induced) stress out of this season, which has already been taken over by the spirit of mass consumption. Black Friday, Cyber Monday etc, all these ‘shopping’ opportunities named and marketed at a fragile, recession hit population makes this quote even more relevant.

‘At this time of year it is your presence that is needed, not your presents.’

As I have to leave writing now to go and see my youngest son in a school production, this seems even more important. I have decided to spend my precious time before the children break up from school, meeting up and being with a lot of my favourite people as well as being outside and enjoying the season. Yes, there will be presents, but there will also be a lot of presence. 

View from inland, looking towards Seasalter Beach, a different perspective.

 

 (I completed my MA in September 2014 and recorded the last two months of it in another blog called www.thesaltwayfarer.blogspot.co.uk

Please feel free to look at that anytime, as it is from that, that I am where I am now.)