Showing posts with label dartmoor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dartmoor. Show all posts

Friday, 7 December 2018

New Births on the Edge of Winter


GREETINGS to you all, should you still be here on this quietest of blogs!
This is a small note to you from the depths of my busy creative, mothering days as we descend into another wintering. As you might be able to see in the photo above, taken by Tom recently, I am pregnant with our second child! We await their arrival any day with tender and jubilant expectation. As this year turns into next, we will be four!

Here, I am standing with our son inside a Bronze Age hut circle on Dartmoor, marvelling at the thousands of years that have passed in that place, and wondering about the people who made their hearths inside those stones, who raised their children there on the high moor, who went in and out of those doorways and whose house walls still stand, even in these strange days at the furthest end of now.

And this brings me to tell you about something that I have been thinking on for some time, and which now seems timely to share with you. As you may have noticed, my painting and blogging and general artistic output have been very quiet for the past three or so years since my son was born. I am still wrestling with the challenges and gifts of trying to be an artist and a mother, and this second child coming has caused me to think on this more urgently, and finally to boldly ask for support. In a world where we are connected to community across the world in such a uniquely creative way, and at a point in my artistic life where I feel that in order to keep making work I must call upon the energies of those who have loved what I do for years, I have launched a Patreon, which I invite you to go and read ~ it tells my tale and explains my request.

https://www.patreon.com/rimastaines

As I write over there on my Patreon page, the hope with asking for this kind of support is that I will be able to create a regular financial stability underneath my work at a time when it's particularly and uniquely hard to be able to devote focused time to my artwork. If you have enjoyed and been nourished by this blog, my posts, paintings, writing and thoughts over the years, I would be massively grateful if you would consider signing up to be a member of my Patreon community. You will be adding rich black compost on these art-seeds I am planting. This is the place I will be sharing my works in progress, artworks and writing from now on. Those who have signed up will be able to see these, as well as choosing from a variety of other delicious offerings...

I do have a new blog, too, as well as a newsletter, if you'd like to sign up to receive those.

Portrait of Tom and me on Dartmoor, pregnant with our son in 2015 by Ishka Michocka.

And there I leave you, with warmest appreciation for your continued interest in my work and wishes for your wintering to be both restful and enchanted. I shall likely be quiet for a time over these dark hibernatory days while we welcome our newest one into our family, but I hope that with the coming of the new year and a renewed strength grown from this Patreon community, I will be creating more paintings and wonders to share with you, wherever you are...
  

Wednesday, 15 November 2017

A basketful of treasure at Hibernation Time


HUGE SKIES full of light and dark and wintering and wondering crown the granite tors of Dartmoor this November, as the mists creep in; and I return here, nearly a year on from my last post, with apologies again for this quiet, and some small pieces of artwork and news for you.
Much has happened this past year, and in time I may craft some reflections from it all. Our family is well, and our beautiful boy grows and roves and laughs through his third year on earth, stretching our hearts bigger by the day. Soon, I hope to be blogging again, in a fresh new space, but for now - here's tell of the things in my basket at the moment:

The Storyteller - Advent Calendar by Rima Staines - available here

Firstly, here's The Storyteller Advent Calendar - a new creation of mine in watercolour. She - wise old witchwoman, tatooed and furred, sits in a snowbound place, beside a fire, her words and hands weaving magics in the cold air as folk and creatures gather round to hear. What are the stories she is telling? Well, behind the doors, as you open them throughout advent, you'll find objects from many of our favourite folktales. If you can guess all the stories, you could win an A3 signed giclée print of this painting (without the numbers). Here's where you can buy a calendar for yourself - we're very proud of this, and I don't think you'll find an advent calendar like it anywhere else in the world! 
The painting is also available as a print here.

Wolfmother by Rima Staines - available here

Another new piece created on scratchboard this year - Wolfmother - shows a wintery scene of a huge mother wolf nurturing a village, and singing Russian lullabies in the snow...
Баю-баюшки-баю,
Не ложися на краю.
Придёт серенький волчок,
Он ухватит за бочок
И утащит во лесок
Под ракитовый кусток.
Bayu-bayushki-bayu,
Ne lozhisya na krayu.
Pridyot serenkiy volchok,
On ukhvatit za bochok
I utashchit vo lesok
Pod rakitovy kustok.
Baby, baby, rock-a-bye
On the edge you mustn't lie
Or the little grey wolf will come
And will nip you on the tum,
Tug you off into the wood
Underneath the willow-root.

This is available as a 7"x5" print in our Hedgespoken Press emporium, in fact all my prints are now available over there instead of etsy. This should make ordering our books, mp3s, posters and advent calendars alongside prints much easier, as well as saving you a bit on postage and packing. (DO go and see the other delights we have there - Tom's widely travelled and loved poem Sometimes A Wild God with illustrations by me is available as a book, a poster and an mp3. And as a thank you to you all for supporting us, you can enter the code WELCOME-TO-HEDGESPOKEN to get 10% off your order until Sunday November 19th 2017! 


And Tatterdemalion - this wondrous collaborative creation of Sylvia Linsteadt's and mine, which you've surely heard about by now is also available there - in the special or trade editions. I urge you to read it if you have not yet - it will change you, undo and redo you; inside it you will root and shatter, mourning and enchanted, wholly othered.

Pages from Sanctum

Sylvia and I have collaborated again recently - in the margins of the latest publication from The Dark Mountain Project. Sanctum is an exquisitely beautiful book about ideas of sacredness from many perspectives. All the artwork has been made on vellum parchment created from the skin of roadkill deer. Sylvia writes about the creation of our marginal earthen-voiced sibylline interjection here


And last but not least, there are two opportunities to see my work this winter - firstly in a joint exhibition at Lowton Farm in mid Devon - CURIO - where I will be sharing a beautiful timber framed barn-gallery space with five other amazing artists. There will be automata from Fi Henshall, ceramic sculpture from Claerwen Gillespie, Printmaking and drawing from Sarah Coomer, metal and wood creations from EC Osborne, and wonders in wood and bark and light and water from Jack Oakley. Do come along if you can. It's on for a week from November 18-26, open every day from 10-3, there's ample parking, and there'll be plenty of tea and homemade cake!

And then at the start of December I'll be joining my old comrades at the Chagford Winter Artisan Fayre - which is always a very lovely event.


I can't believe how the wheel of the turning years finds me here again at this potent dark time, trying to weave together all the threads of my life as we step out on our road - travelling, homing, creating, learning, mothering, partnering, living, loving, changed and yet the same.
Blessings of this hearth-season on you all, too, wherever your roads lead you...


Tuesday, 2 February 2016

Tatterdemalion


OVER THE YEARS OF BEING AN ARTIST, I have come to think of and describe my paintings as Waymarkers to the Otherworlds, as gateways, portals, signposts to take you through to those Other places, those worlds just beyond this one: behind, or beside or underneath our every day. There are many ways through, of course, and many different destinations, too, which all depend on the traveller and their particular way of reading the sign. 


As the signmaker, I don't usually have any idea (or control over) where my paintings take people, or what happens when they get there. But four years ago, one traveller to these otherworlds followed my painted signposts and came back with her story. 

Sylvia Linsteadt, as many of you know, is a writer of great talent, who has an incredible ability to conjure the beautiful and uncanny and barely-seen wild worlds which shiver at the periphery of our perception. Four years ago she began writing the stories of the worlds my paintings took her to, and when she sent them to me, I was blown away. Her work is lyrical and profound, folkloric and unique, and for me, these stories were so moving to read - so familiar and yet so new. We knew we had to make a book.


These past years have seen these stories grow and enmesh and they have become what we are calling a post-apocalyptic mosaic folktale. A back-to front book which began with the illustrations, a tale of wheeled and raggedy folk, of edge-dwellers and shape-shifters, itinerants and wild ones, and their imagined futures in a world after the breaking we are currently living through.

 

A perfect meeting of arts and souls, and a book born of it on this day of new beginnings. Sylvia and I met at last in the flesh last October; she came from her native Northern California (where the book is set), to visit us and stomp the tors and woods and Dartmoor's bronze age relics with us, to share our hearth and breathe these winds for a while. It was a wonderful meeting, which seemed to have happened long ago already.

 
And while she was here, our book was taken up by a publisher. Unbound is a publisher very suited to this tale: it is liminal and powered by its readers, it is back to front and supportive of the unusual. Which means that this book cannot be without you! To preorder your copy and find your way to this utterly wonderful, strange and necessary Otherworld - bejewelled and ragged, rooted and sung - click on the image below! 
Bring Tatterdemalion into the world!


https://unbound.co.uk/books/tatterdemalion

Saturday, 19 December 2015

The Wayfarer's Year


This photograph seems to encapsulate how I feel right now. It was taken (by the wondrous Sylvia Linsteadt who came to visit! but more of that another time) in the early autumn sun as I strode across September-coloured Dartmoor with my baby boy on my back. This has been the most treasured and difficult of all the years of my life so far. I have had to learn to be a mother whilst we totally reconfigure our life. Building our Hedgespoken home and travelling theatre has taken all the energy we could muster and then it has kept on taking. And I continue to be stretched in more than three dimensions by the challenges and alchemys and incandescent joys of motherhood. Nevertheless I seem to keep on striding, and my back continues to hold strong enough for the weight it carries.
My creative life burns clear, though its outlets are small and fleeting. I draw when my boy sleeps and gradually have managed to work enough into the (many) dark hours with a biro and my head torch to create a perpetual calendar - The Wayfarer's Year - a kind of wall frieze showing the passing seasons as a traveller's road (the year) winds through them. It is printed on recycled card and folds out to a 12-month art piece. You can buy them for £12.50 in the Hedgespoken shop here, or on etsy here. They'll be good for any year or any time of year, of course!


I have also contributed manually to our truck build - tiling the kitchen with babe on back! This home of ours is being built with great care and craft, and has come on further since this picture was taken. If you'd like to see a little video update (with us looking very tired!) and hear more truck news, do go over to the Hedgespoken blog and look.

  
This little painting is titled Incantation Under a Winter Sun - another small creative achievement in the baby-sleeping moments. It is a prize in our Hedgespoken Winter Raffle, for which tickets are available here - you could own this original painting for just £1!


The sun seems far off now, our days are mud-drenched and rain-splattered and fog-hidden. Each trip to collect water is slippery and my bones ache with tiredness. We are still not in the truck, though another year turns, and expectations and plans must be readjusted. How do you stay positive whilst the challenges of uncoupling from a former life and building a new one mount? The dream must continue to be kindled, which is hard in these damp, dark days. I can't quite believe that my baby is 10 months old (and crawling!), and that Christmas is just days away! From within the fog and the slog of this year, a bright fire still burns, and I carry its embers over the threshold into 2016, a stronger and utterly changed woman from the one I was last year-cusp, and holding in my heart and arms the most golden of all things in my life: my son.

Friday, 3 October 2014

Amulet

photo by Miriam Boy
AROUND MY NECK hangs an amulet - a magic thing wrought by me in metal and stone! 

I've always had a love of ancient talismanic jewellery made from the less precious metals, and often marvelled at the wonders of adornment made by peoples the world over in a book I was given as a youngster by my parents one birthday: The Splendour of Ethnic Jewellery. But I've never had the chance to actually create something in the medium of metal, so this birthday just gone, my Tom arranged as a gift for me to spend a day in the studio with my dear friend Miriam Boy of Silver & Moor, a local silversmith who as well as working on her own beautiful creations for neck and wrist and finger, offers a wonderful Make Your Own Wedding Ring workshop down here in Devon, where couples can book to spend the day under Miriam's expert tutelage and make their own (or each other's) rings for their day of betrothal. Occasionally people ask to make things other than rings with her, as did I. True to my particular creative nature, I spent a long time before the day designing my piece, which was to be an amulet to mark and symbolise certain things very personal to me. I pored over books of symbols and arcana, and learned about the amuletic power in arts and objects, returning often to a favourite book of mine: Amulets: A World of Secret Powers, Charms & Magic by Sheila Paine, which is illustrated lavishly with photographs throughout. Eventually, I had a design I was happy with and arrived on the pre-arranged morning at Miriam's cozy studio over a shop on the village square. 


Miriam has many wonderful works by other local artists on display in her space too, some of which you may recognise!


Through the door is the studio of neighbouring artist of stitch - Angharad Barlow of Atelier Bee (who came in during my creating process at opportune moments to take lovely photos!) 
Miriam's completed pieces are on display in a glass cabinet, though they don't stay there too long, as her jewellery is snapped up almost faster than she can make it!


When I first showed Miriam my design, she did this with her hands, and told me this ambitious creation would take me a lot longer than a day!


But together we mulled over the options and techniques, and talked about the metals and stones I wanted to use, finding ways round complications and feeling like we were setting out on an adventure!


I began by cutting out the shapes of metal I wanted in my design. I used a variety of metals - here I'm sawing the tiny hand motif from sheet bronze with a saw blade so fine that I broke it about 8 times!


I laid out the elements I had so far, building the whole picture. Here you can see the backing of brass, a smaller silver section on top, with the bronze hand and the two stones I had brought to set in my amulet - one, a piece of seaglass, washed into a perfect sphere by the sea, and found by me as a girl, and the other a piece of Dartmoor granite.


Some of the metal could be cut with shears.


Then came the first soldering process - a magic of fire and flux and luck! Here Miriam is making a flux paste by grinding the cone of borax in a little water.


I cut tiny pieces of silver solder, of the hardest grade (there were four grades of solder; we had to make sure that once a piece was soldered it didn't melt again in the heat of another soldering, hence the varying grades of heat required to melt the silver.)

photo by Angharad Barlow

And painted flux over the sanded clean surfaces to be joined.


Then the tiny pieces of solder are laid on


And heat is applied from below


The solder eventually melts and then the whole hot piece is plunged into water for annealing and we discover whether or not it has melded.


More pieces of metal are soldered on - this time, small diamonds of copper


I love how the piece gradually acquires a patina from heating and cooling, from caramelizing flux enamel, and the mere rigours of the process. Next I make the border by cutting and hammering the brass backing over.


This is quite fiddly


And that ends one whole day of work! I leave the evening studio excited for the next days of creating, and invigorated by learning this entirely new craft! Miriam generously let me return to her studio until I had finished the piece, and guided me when I was stuck whilst working on several of her own pieces in the time it took me to make one.


Day two began with making a minute copper dish in which to set the glass sphere. The dish was Miriam's idea - in order to show off the glass's unique spherical shape. This too was very fiddly, and I had to curve the copper by hammering it with domed hammer tools into a concave.


Then for more soldering. This time the hand.


And the attaching of a thin brass strip for part of the border which we thought would be a simple task but in fact proved to be very infuriating indeed, and took many many attempts to get the small piece of brass to attach to the silver.

photo by Miriam Boy
photo by Miriam Boy
photo by Miriam Boy

The more times we heated it under the flame, the more patinas and colours emerged across the metal's surface.


Eventually it stuck!


Then (by now, day three!) it was time to solder on the wee copper dish, but before that I had to do some engraving using a fine Dremel and a Steady Hand. I didn't manage to get any photos of this due to my hands being otherwise occupied at the time, but we decided it was best to engrave before soldering on any obstacles.

photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow


photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow


photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow

The amulet was slowly taking shape...

photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow





photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
Next I made a copper bezel for the little piece of granite and soldered that in place too.

photo by Angharad Barlow

And then it was the fourth day! I made the face from copper wire which I hammered flat and bent with pliers. Another great fiddle! The tiny copper balls at the top were made from small scraps of copper heated under the blowtorch until the surface tension in the melting metal causes them to ping into a sphere! It's quite magic to watch.


These tiny pieces all had to be soldered on in one go without them moving about or attaching in the wrong position.

photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
It was really important to apply heat resistant paste to the parts already done so as not to unsolder them!

photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
More ferocious flames and delicate placing of pieces...

photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
And the hiss and steam of hot metal plunged into water

photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow





By now the alchemy was really happening. I was totally absorbed in the process, focussed and determined to keep working though it was hard, hot work, and I had sanded my fingerprints right off!

photo by Angharad Barlow

photo by Angharad Barlow
Day four was stretching into evening and Miriam and I were determined to finish the piece that day, no matter how late we stayed at the studio! We had talked through many subjects and stories and had both learnt a lot about each other and about jewellery making! Now I made a hammered brass attachment for the hanging...


And we spent some more time crouched over hot blow torches (this stage required three torches, and in the middle of it all we ran out of gas, so our multi-talented photographer Angharad had to run out to the shop to buy more!)

photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
It took many attempts to get this piece to attach, as we couldn't risk heating the piece from below where all the precious work was held. 

photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow
Each time we plunged it into the water, we held our breaths to see if the solder had taken.

photo by Angharad Barlow

photo by Angharad Barlow
photo by Angharad Barlow

Sometimes we tried heating the solder before placing the hanging piece on. So many beautiful colours in the flames.


And finally, finally it took!


I thought the back looked almost as beautiful as the front! You can see the small doorway-shaped hole I drilled through the hand at an earlier stage as part of the design.


Now all that remained was to sand and polish some (a lot!) more, and then set the stones, which was for very last.


Though I love a battered and worn patina on things, patient sanding and polishing brought out a wonderful shine and made my eyes sparkle with that innate gem-glee that even us muted-colour-wearing lovers-of-the-old-and-weathered cannot suppress when it takes hold!


Dark had descended outside the studio windows, but inside, magic was happening.


I polished


And the amulet shone


Last of all came the stone setting. A delicate art of pushing and coaxing the thin copper housings round the uneven granite and the sea-smooth glass ball.


photo by Miriam Boy
photo by Miriam Boy
photo by Miriam Boy
photo by Miriam Boy
photo by Miriam Boy
photo by Miriam Boy
photo by Miriam Boy





And then it was done. An amulet of power. A piece of jewellery unlike any other I own, both because of what it is and because I know what went into it. I look at other pieces of jewellery now with a new-found awe! These four days spent with Miriam and the files and hammers and solder and tongs and blowtorches and silver and brass and copper and bronze will stay with me always - an utterly unforgettable experience of forging my own piece of magic with flame and hand. I am so grateful to Miriam for sharing with me her time and space and tools and patience and skill so that I could bring this unique creation to life (and also for making me a lovely copper clasp to join the leather thong on which the amulet hangs).

photo by Miriam Boy
photo by Miriam Boy





photo by Miriam Boy

The amulet hangs round my neck with a never-before-experienced weight that is due to its inherent potency rather than the actual grams of metal. I find my hands and eyes drawn to it constantly. It contains so much more than the sum of its parts, and I love that it might be dug up one day in the peat of Dartmoor, by peoples unimaginable to us here now; perhaps there are trees on the moor again by then, perhaps the people here in that time have found a way to live with the land rather than in spite of it, and perhaps they will wonder at the woman of the past century who made and wore this silvered spell set with signs and stones of land and sea.