Swimming Against the Tide of Reason

People always picture the North York Moors carpeted in deep purple heather but that only really happens for a few weeks in August. I prefer November, with  shades of brown and gold; from rufous bracken to bright yellow ochre larches, shedding drifts of needles,the smell of wood fires and approaching snow in the air. I’m enjoying the guilty pleasures of being at home, some seasonal introspection and preparing my nest for winter, yearning for a way to live even more simply.

The first snow came yesterday but didn’t last long, in fact it rained heavily the same night and yet again the tap water has turned muddy and grim, like taking a bath in a mug of stewed tea. It would be good if it worked like a kind of tanning bath but there’s always the fear that it’s been filtered through a dead pheasant or two…. yum.                                                                                                                               And so this week I’ve been catching up with chores neglected when I was out at work all day and trying not to panic about what I’ve done. It’s hard to panic properly when I still get butterflies of excitement looking out of the window in the morning and thinking how lucky I am to live here… but butterflies are silly ephemeral things and no use at all for paying the rent; stop fluttering about and make some sensible plans Kim!

So, yesterday I went to an interesting “Creative Conference” organised by Chrysalis Arts. I gave a lift to Jo from the gallery and it was actually so nice to chat and feel reassured that my name wasn’t entirely made of mud! The talk by artist and print maker Mark Hearld was hugely inspiring and I loved the fact that he had printing ink on his fingers and many tales of lucky breaks and fruitful collaborations. There were also workshops on crowd funding and online selling which left Jo and I full of ideas…I kept forgetting I didn’t work there anymore and need to apply those ideas to my future.

Since last week I feel like I’ve done so much and stretched time out … many doodles and scribbles, two blog posts, visits with friends I had almost lost touch with and a brief trip to the Lakes where my shoes leaked and I was moody …until the beauty of it all and the drizzle soaked into me and I snapped out of it. There was a moment in the guest house where I thought I was going to come to a sticky end… sneaking out of the bathroom with a stolen loo roll up my jumper (times are hard but don’t worry I haven’t turned to crime in general), I missed a step hidden in the vile psychedelic carpet and staggered about on the landing like John Cleese in Fawlty Towers, nearly falling headfirst down the stairs to land guiltily,  at the feet of the landlady. There is something unsettling about getting a mad attack of the giggles when you’re alone…especially with a loo roll up your jumper.
Anyway, the colours and the mist and the mountains and time to draw. Simple pleasures. Ostrich stance.

Meanwhile in the world of ART and CULTURE, I listened to Radio 3, Night Waves for the first time this week and enjoyed it very much…particularly the title “William Tillyer, Dr.Who and the Gettysburg Address” which sounds like a book I may try to write one day! Listening, I couldn’t help but wonder if I hadn’t inherited the stubborn desire to be a hermit ” in control of one’s own time” if not the artistic genius; I also wondered if I would soon be enjoying espresso and fine wine and feeling grown up now that I had taken the momentous step of turning the dial to 3. No, not yet,I will be back for Night Waves but I am now re-tuned to 6 Music and cursing the day I put my 1983 Bowie T-shirt in the charity shop bag as it’s “wear your old band t-shirt to work” day tomorrow and I’ve just seen one on  eBay for almost £100, drat!
Now I must leave you and attempt to keep to sensible hours and resist the urge to drink coffee at midnight.

Listening to:- “Swimming Against The Tide Of Reason – BBC Session 07/05/1986” by Len Bright Combo

The Silver Bear & A Heart of Gold

Winter sunlight is sparkling through the glass and crystal on the windowsill,  shedding rainbows around the kitchen, where I sit pondering my next move in the game of life. It’s Thursday and I feel elated … terror may soon kick in once the adrenaline rush of making rash decisions subsides. I have left the gallery and I’m either heading out of the dark woods or in to them! Either brave or stupid.

Last weekend I took some time to escape the North and head “home” to London where I resisted the urge to visit old haunts and explored places I’d never been before. My parents lived in Notting Hill before I was born, before it was famous and hip, the vintage postcards I used in some of my work came from the market on Portabello Road in the 1960’s  but for some reason I’d never been, preferring the well worn route to Camden and Brick Lane. I had such a good time, though the rain made my fur (fake) coat drip like a wet bear and I was poked in the eye at least 5 times by badly driven umbrellas. Sheltering from the deluge in The Cloth Shop I wanted to take everything home and make treasure or just enjoy the colours and textures. In the end I bought a meter of deep red, sari silk edging and left with directions to “the best coffee in West London” ( The Coffee Plant) . Oh the bliss of  good coffee, visual feasts and time to think.

shop window, Notting Hill

The Cloth Shop, Portabello Road

Pizza shop, Notting Hill

Peter Jones Christmas window

Anthropology

The Cloth Shop

Portabello Road in the rain

The Cloth Shop

I saw many bears on my travels , including those in the windows of Peter Jones and the polar bear rug in Anthropologie ( save me from temptation now that I am poor again!)

And now the story to inspire and encourage, to give you hope in a dark hour. I  stood at the till serving customers in the cafe when Lauren brought in the post… a catalogue for catering equipment, a wholesale credit note and a small brown box with a line of floral washi tape. A sample of coffee perhaps? Opening the parcel I discovered that some people have a generosity of spirit and kind thoughtfulness that I do believe is the essence of what makes life worth living.       Charlotte Bezzant makes the most beautiful jewellery and the stories behind each piece, such as the cast silver twig brought back from the Arctic, make them even more special. Her note said, ” I read your blog and hope this will brighten your day, it won’t always be scones” ; I felt a lump in my throat and suddenly the world seemed a better place. The twist being that Charlotte, who I’ve never met, was having  a tough time herself and yet took the time to make such a kind gesture to a stranger. Thank you Charlotte, not only a talented artist but a beautiful person. Thank you also to all of you out there who have supported this mixed up, passionate, confrontational, idealist over the years … it’s going to snow soon and it’s good to know you’re there.

Now it is time for coffee, a small comforting ritual before reality bites and I begin my search for a new way to make a living!

This week a small selection of my cards will be for sale at the Joe Cornish Gallery with all proceeds going to ShelterBox‘s Appeal to help victims of the disaster in the Philippines. If I thought I could help I’d be there now.

Reading:- “Landlocked- In pursuit of the wild” by Richard Mabey

 

ART with big letters…and some owls.

It’s been hard not to walk around glowing with pride, wishing I had made a t-shirt with “William Tillyer is my daddy” emblazoned across the front, because last week was the long awaited opening of the exhibition at Mima. It was such a special day with so many wonderful people turning out … lovely to see our small family all together in one place and so many of my parent’s friends from their college days in Middlesbrough in the 50’s ( the artist Peter Hicks and former student, Len Tabner amongst them). The mayor, Ray Mallon gave a moving speech as did another college friend Peter Murray OBE ( Director of the Yorkshire Sculpture Park), it felt like a real celebration. Later in the week we travelled to Gateshead’s beautiful  Sage building, where daddy was interviewed by the lovely Sharuna Sagar as part of Radio 3’s “Free Thinking Festival” …I confess I was nervous; seeing your parent performing in front of a crowd is quite odd, particularly when he is known for being ” The Quiet Man of the art world”, hard to separate “Daddy” from “The Artist”.  He was actually pretty good and I can’t wait to hear it when it’s broadcast on November 14th ( I think).

Away from the glamour and excitement of the Art World I have been working hard at the cafe thing, attempting to express my frustrated creativity through the medium of cakes and pumpkin lanterns. I’ve been so busy that I still haven’t had a chance to look around the gallery to see the new exhibitions but tomorrow I’m going to leave the scones to their own devices for a moment while I visit the Lake District by way of Peter Leeming and Ruth Fairbrother’s new work in the Gallery Within. It’s been wonderful to spend some time outdoors today, it’s so important to get muddy hands and breathe in some Autumn air before the working week begins again. I’m still trying to work out a way to gain some balance in my life so that I have a little more time to do my own work. After all, there is a danger that this could become a blog about baking and the joys of cafe life but that’s not why you’re here. My determination was strengthened by a wonderful day last week when a couple came in and bought TWO of my pictures, including this owl… Days like that compensate for the days when the urge to answer back become almost unbearable…                                                                                                        customer:- ” let me educate you on dairy free baking”                                                 me:- ( in my head) “No thanks, I have a degree in design and have been making cakes since I was 10 so would like you like to please stop being so patronising”     customer:- ” I was going to have a scone but those don’t look very inspiring”          me:- ( in my head) ” They don’t inspire me either but I spent all morning making them and they taste bloody good so bugger off somewhere else if you have to be so rude”. Don’t get me wrong, some days are fun and I’m working on my attitude, honest I am. So, since I last wrote, a terrible thing has happened which is that Guy Garvey’s Finest Hour is now no longer on Sunday nights ( it’s been moved to lunchtime). A little sign post in the week has been turned around leaving me a bit lost, so I have to report that this time I am writing in silence. I could put on a cd I suppose, but I have to be careful; these things have a habit of transporting you back to a certain time or place and the emotional jolt can be a bit much for “over sensitive” types like me! Instead it is time make a pot of tea and watch some Sunday evening comfort tv. about train journeys in Italy… might even have a biscuit. Have a happy week and thank you so much for all your kind comments on my last couple of posts.