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I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied. — John Masefield We are travelling, wandering, meandering, getting lost, returning, changing our mind, turning back, trying again, and again……….. Sixteen hours after leaving Wales we arrived
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And just like that January was here and then gone, leaving behind hints of hope and whispers of possibility. Imbolc ushered in February, promising renewal and rebirth. Catkins, snowdrops and celandines emerging from winter dormancy, budding trees and budding plans. Bird song, Spring song, Sea song. And already I see March on the horizon, heralded
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The pause that was the still point of the turning wheel has come to an end. The light is returning and the days are lengthening. Sometimes after a pause it can be a slow return to finding a rhythm again. As usual it is a time for patience. Working in a journal. Slow steps, a
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Have you ever watched a heron on a river bank or shoreline? Poised and balanced on reed thin legs, elegant and still as a statue, eyes bright and focused, waiting for the flicker that may mean dinner. A heron will wait for what feels like an age before suddenly striking the water to grab its
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Wandering and noticing and gathering from sea and sky and land Nature’s gifts Moments of stillness in a chaotic world. Hold these moments. Keep them close. I contemplate the growing series of small pieces I am calling held. They are made of recycled cardboard, various papers, paint, charcoal and ink, fabric and thread. They are
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For a few weeks we have been living on dry land in a borrowed camper van whilst we carried out some maintenance on our boat (wooden boats need a lot of maintenance!). It’s been five weeks of sanding, painting, varnishing, leak investigating and various jobs below the waterline. Last Friday however our boat was lifted
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My beginning is always the same. Fragments. Every journal page and piece of art that I make begins with a gathering of fragments- paper, cardboard, fabric, thread and other ephemera – a gathering of bits of life. I love making something new from the fragments of other things. Things that already have a history and
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This afternoon we sailed our boat (also our home) downriver and anchored in a small bay for the night. With a brisk wind to whisk us along we were there in a couple of hours which is fast for us. Sailing an old, heavy, wooden boat is a slow process and quite the antithesis of
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Layers and textures, ragged edges, tattered pages, fabric and threads and random stitching. Wabi sabi, imperfection, unexpected connections. Making stuff that is soft, melancholic, hopeful, peaceful, simple, quiet (not all revolutions are loud). Sometimes I keep my words hidden for fear of rejection but other times they spill out, refusing to be
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Holding a filled journal in my hands provokes a wide range of emotions – relief, joy, sadness, release, hopefulness and peace. The feeling of peace is an interesting one I think and even though I know that it doesn’t mean I’m at peace with myself, it is the effect of an unburdening. Through the process
bridget martin 