Rainy Days and Mondays

I can’t believe it’s been over a year since I last blogged. I guess I’ve been bogged down with other things and just didn’t think of it. This morning opening the book I use to write my morning pages in, which is dark blue with the words ‘make a mark’ embossed so gently I can hardly make them out under the energy efficient lamp above my bed, I started to write about Rainy days and Mondays. It is raining and it is Monday. The song by the Carpenters that I sang along to in my teens has a chorus ‘Rainy days and Mondays always get me down’. They don’t always get me down but lately I’ve been thinking about feelings. Carpenter sings about sadness, the kind of sadness for no reason also called the ‘Blues’. Tragically Karen died from Anorexia aged just 32 and there’s so much more support and understanding for sufferers now.

I’ve been listening to a book by Susan Cain called Bittersweet, I wanted to buy it but a good friend who recommended it, suggested I listen to it. It is soothing, stimulating and fascinating. I’ve been needing acknowledgment that how I feel is a normal. Even though I know this inside out I still need reminding because feelings can be so powerful they can shock us when they happen. I know I’m sensitive, I always have been. I can’t watch a theatre encore without crying, or a concert, music and art often make me cry as does human suffering which is everywhere. Interestingly I’m very good at acting in a calmer, more analytic way when working with people professionally; I never cry when they do or struggle when they share painful thoughts, it makes me feel more respect and love for them as humans. My friends rarely see this side of me and I am sure they’re incredulous that clients ever get a word in edgeways, but they do, they really do.

My main challenge this past year has been navigating transitions, husband retiring, youngest leaving for university, puppy in the home, a month long residency, leaving a mentorship programme, parental accidents, daughter preparing to get married. Going through everything in our home and organising what is precious or necessary and culling what isn’t has also been emotionally charged. I’ve not painted since I came back from Cyprus. I have drawn though; strange shape scapes I can’t quite make sense of. I am making marks and thinking about larger work.

Today I plan to make a start back to painting but to be honest it feels so much harder than plunging myself into cold water, I’m too tentative yet I have everything I need. The painter Philip Guston says “When you’re in the studio painting, there are a lot of people in there with you - your teachers, friends, painters from history, critics…and one by one if you’re really painting they walk out. And if you’re really painting YOU walk out.” So i’m hoping to walk in and quickly walk out again whilst staying there.

I went to view a studio a short way from home last Monday, I was excited at the prospect of going back to work outside. It wasn’t to be. Affordable space for artists are really hard to come by but it was a distraction, I have somewhere I can paint and something will come up eventually I hope, maybe somewhere bigger.

As I write this my mobile pings, a comment on social media from one of my past mentors, another nudge to get back to it. I have so much rich material to read through again, that’s the beauty of Turps Banana Correspondence Course . It was a game changer for me but the game still needs more change.

It’s still raining, I would recommend Bittersweet though and if you want to listen to Karen here she is Rainy Days and Mondays .

One of my recent sketchbook pages.

How do you do the blues?

It’s been a while since I blogged, I seem to have missed August and the middle of the month is when I usually feel like writing something in between newsletters, just because.

I write most days, for an hour at least and it’s part of my process. I miss it if I miss it! I write about all kinds of things, swimming, painting. Yesterday I picked up my paintbrushes at 5pm having spent the day in a quandary, flitting from one thing to another, all essential though and with no regrets; catching up with admin, chatting with my son who goes back to uni soon, walking the pup, messaging friends, the laundry. Yesterday I filled 2 bin liners with clothes I feel no affinity with now. Such a good metaphor; clearing out one’s wardrobe.

So many people I know seem blue in one way or the other lately, or anxious, some have had serious operations with ongoing treatment and it’s left me feeling a bit perturbed. I’m more aware of the fragility of life, not even including what’s in the news. I had a stronger faith once upon a time, or rather a different faith, one that didn’t encourage me to feel feelings, but to claim my joy and celebrate. Although I still describe myself as a person of faith, I describe it as more liminal and liberal these days. I have no regrets about this either because having trained hard to manage uncertainty and learning to think on my feet, on the spot, it’s ok. But I do feel the need for something to ground me, like an anchor for my little boat that sometimes gets tossed by the gentlest of ripples. I know that the people in my life are all there for a reason and the connections I’ve made are magical at times, call it synchronicity or whatever, I know I am on some kind of path that’s positive even with all the challenges. I bought a book called Art and Faith recommended by a friend who I feel can read and understand my page. Maybe I’ll find it helps me to integrate the two.

People talk about feeling blue, singing the blues, psychologists cite that blue lighting in a restaurant is optimum for customer wellbeing and that they’ll linger longer and hopefully eat and drink more. This strikes me that the negatives can elicit positives, the expression of distress can turn things around. Music is so powerful and lately I’ve been rediscovering music I listened to when I was 20 as my son is making a collection of vinyl. I was thinking yesterday about how good for us it is to acknowledge where we are. Listening to Matt Haig on the Elizabeth Day’s How to Fail podcast confirmed to me that to be honest with ourselves is important, but to find the things that help and do them as much as we can. I can push myself too hard at times so today was a get out of bed when I’m ready day. I am gutted I missed swimming in the rain though, that’s such fun! As a child I was a bit precious and fragile, couldn’t swim, winced during netball and hockey at school. Now I love a bit of extreme; so funny.

So it’ll get back to those paintings that I went all indigo on yesterday, but today is a printmaking day and they usually turn out blue too. The darks and lights of life, the sharpness and the blurs. The stories we remember in all their complexity.

So how do you do the Blues, and what’s in your wardrobe that you need to pass on?

‘Blue Wardrobe’ Oil on Linen board 40cm x 40cm

A Feather and a Leaf

On Saturday I went swimming at 6am, well 6.11 to be precise.  I was talking to one of my cold water swimmer Artist friends recently, about the compulsion for cold water. Few people I know really understand, I almost wonder if it’s a form of self-harm or masochism but as it makes me feel better in such a sustained way, I think not.

 A few years ago, I fell into the habit of collecting leaves from the bottom of the pool. They fascinated me, the delicacy of their skeletal shapes, so fragile, undissolving in the chlorinated water. I made a series of cyanotypes for a while, hoping to make a whole project. The idea didn’t quite stick and I let the leaves go. I have this tension between collecting and discarding, all the time I seem to be gleaning ‘things’ stones, leaves, ephemera; both physically and in photos, saving them up for paintings that I don’t always paint.

 Today I found a leaf on the bottom of the pool, heart or tear shaped, with a broken stem. I liked the colour; it reminded me of the tv ad for hand cream, I watched as a child, where a smiling woman massages cream into a dried crinkled leaf, leaving it supple, shiny and springy in her hand. Then, I noticed something black, floating within my sight line on the water, almost menacing like a huge dead spider, legless. It was a feather, as long as my forefinger but wider. I’m no ornithologist but I think it came from a crow or a raven, the huge black birds that perch up high, their blackness foreboding. These associations of ephemera hold my thoughts, make me write and make Art. I am not sure why, it is as compelling as plunging my stiff body into cold water most mornings at 6am.

 Today I felt cold before I swam, and a little hungry; ludicrous  as we ate after 9pm last night. I bought a small flask to hold a hot drink; this made the morning almost perfect. I ordered the flask after much pondering, desiring a plain minimal one, settling on one with a blue bird and plants on, they reminded me of Matisse’s collages and the flask matches my water bottle. Matching is very important to me and the reason why I am currently so fixated on getting rid of clothes, the ones that don’t fit within my capsule wardrobe fantasy. I think I must be finding life a bit too challenging to be hankering after blankness. Knowing oneself can be a constant work in progress, how to settle on who you are, what to worry about and what not to. I have left some groups too, unsubscribed from some emails, this week I want to decide which objects I no longer value enough to keep. This is hard. The stuff of life holds memories but sometimes it feels too much like a cacophony. I remember reading a book by Jenny Diski years ago called ‘Skating to Antarctica’, she didn’t skate there but the book was partly about her desire to experience the vast whiteness.

So the feather and the leaf. Last week I made a trip to London to meet a friend, one of my cold swimming Artist friends, it was her birthday and we visited at least 4 exhibitions. I was struck by the work of Eileen Agar, how diverse it was; she made paintings, prints, collages, sculptures, took photographs and her work was truly hers, despite being executed in a variety of ways. My four favourites were three collages and a painting; two with a woman lying underneath a leaf, one with a dog, her dog I imagine, a cheerful collage of a mask with a black leaf stuck on and a painting of the sea.

 I wonder if hadn’t seen those pictures the day before, I would have taken such an interest in the leaf and the feather. This fascinates me, as though I am joining up the dots of my days in visual associations. Art ignites our curiosity in our everyday lives as much as in the Art. I often think of a spiders web, how it holds itself together with such strength and delicacy. A bit like how our lives do.

I’ll make something with the leaf and the feather soon.

All the Artworks by Eileen Agar can be seen at https://www.whitecapelgallery.org until Aug 29 2021

Sometimes it's cool to be in the slow lane

Tooting Lido at 6:45am ready for the next group of swimmers, this was my lane today.

This morning I went swimming. I was thinking on the way home about when it first became important to me. Being up at 5:30am to arrive at the pool in time for the 6am session reminded me of student days and early morning swimming, cycling and cleaning in the big Tesco before Art college in the late 1980s. My friend Marc would call for me and we would cycle into town to work. The feeling of accomplishment at having ‘done a days work’ before 9am was satisfying. Although I remember getting very tired and cranky and needing to go to bed the same time as when I was 9.

On Monday, the beginning of this week I arrived at 6:58am to a sorry we are closed sign. I never got the email but due to a technical fault the lido was closed. So, desperate for a swim I googled pools nearby and went to the leisure centre for a swim inside in warm water. It really was not the same and seeming smaller, I found it hard to find the right lane. It’s a bit like driving on the motorway in my car. It isn’t a sports car but it’s not a wreck either but often I try and drive it too fast and going up hills it just doesn’t cope as well as my tailgaters.

So which lane did I settle into on Monday. The slow lane because I wasn’t fast enough for the fast lane and was too quick for the medium lane. The slow lane was much wider and less populated so with some amiable overtaking here and there I found my place.

Today I felt less keen on broaching the cold lido water, although 20C today (I’ve swam in 11) I felt reticent, probably because the sun wasn’t shining so brightly and I felt tired already. So much of my life is about intention, which helps me navigate the parts I have less control over, so I swam. I started in the first lane then moved into the second as they increase incrementally in speed; made it into the third then after being overtaken a few times went back to the second, probably classed as the slow lane again, but it’s fine. I’m no olympian and I swim as a form of meditation as well as exercise. When I swam at the lake last year the power swimmers never noticed the huge fish in a small school near the waters edge, or the baby birds swimming with their mother. It feels quite sentimental to be making cute references to nature but since we brought our puppy home I’ve fallen in love with slowness and nature all over again. I notice things more. I suspect Mila is teaching me more about myself than I am training her. I am more patient, less irritable, I don’t need to talk so much although of course I am finding my inner puppy again which is essential for providing the fun and engagement she needs.

So all in all today is a good day and it’s only 8:50am. If you haven’t tried swimming outdoors, or ever had a dog, I’d thoroughly recommend, as well as writing and painting and all the other things I do to keep me sane.

Thanks to Elly from Writer’s Hour with The London Writer’s Salon this morning for taking an interest in my blog idea; an incentive to beat my speed record in writing!

Now it’s time for coffee :)

Never Mind the Weather

Shoreham Beach West Sussex 16.05.2021 10am 10.4 degrees C

Yesterday I travelled down to my home town of Shoreham-by-sea to swim and catch up with friends and family. My friend and Artist Katie Sollohub is working on an ongoing project called ‘Immersed’. I think I was number 44 of the participants she has swum with. Once dry and clothed on the beach, sat with for conversation, she paints a small watercolour portrait. The conversation recorded and a photo taken of the swimmer holding the portrait, small enough to fit in the palm of their hand but held facing outwards, not to be seen until the project is collated. Participants receive a small sketchbook (again palm sized and a nice pencil for drawing, writing or both). Once home swimmers get an email with some prompts to write about the experience.

So despite the torrential rain the day before including hail and temperature, I went for it. I hadn’t even checked the forecast. On the way down in the car it started to rain heavily, but having the event in my diary I wanted to stick to plan. I know others check the forecast and maybe it’s sensible but I never have. I remember times when I have walked, cycled and swum in the rain. As a child I didn’t learn to swim until I was a teenager and recall the reticence to get messy, muddy or wet growing up, but now I find the discomfort exhilarating.

I had some reservations having not swum in cold water since last autumn and initially it took my breath away, but the feeling of the water on my skin was incredible, it always is. Katie took my hand when I stumbled a few times going in and out which made me think about my independence and previous reticence to ask for or receive help, how I am better at that now. Visually the sky was darker than the sea at times and the rain and hail came whilst we sat on the beach afterwards.

If you would like to take part in Katie’s project ‘Immersed’ you can contact her via her website https://www.katiesollohub.co.uk

So what about the weather? I think for me it’s a metaphor for navigating the things we have no control over. If the weather is ‘bad’ as in cold, rainy or even stormy we can choose to stay inside but we can also adapt, find what we need and go for it. In my case it was neoprene booties, gloves and a thermal hat, not forgetting the actual costume of course! A good friend who is also an Artist made an observation about my work being about looking outside from inside, observations of the skies from inside my studio or inside my mind. She’s right because to a greater extent than I would like, I find travel difficult, I can’t sit much at all without discomfort and my condition (Tarlov Cyst Disease) is something I take wherever I go. I remember a radio programme I heard years ago about holiday’s and the myth of ‘Getting Away from it all’ ; how wherever we go we take ourselves with us, there really is no escape. So being at peace for me is about accepting what I have to and challenging what I don’t. Also that it can still be ok and not ok at the same time, and the storms can be weathered if we hold on.

Writing this, I remembered a song I used to listen to a lot, ‘Weather With You’ by Crowded House, I listened to this over and over, years ago when I was going through a really difficult time. I love the way the song has elements of cheeriness in addressing what can be difficult. Often I engage with the melodies of songs and only realise the pertinence of the lyrics much later, like a kind of therapeutic dance between my thoughts and the words; something about them connects at a less than conscious level. l also love the way songs, poetry, writing all inform my own Art and Writing. These are my favourite lines:

Well there’s a small boat made of china

it’s going nowhere on the mantlepiece

Well, do I lie like a loungeroom lizard

Or do I sing like a bird released

Every where you go, always take the weather with you

So yesterday I was glad I swam and glad I visited some special people. The skies are dull and grey today but that really is ok, in fact I still feel glad.

Tracey Elizabeth Downing

Sometimes it snows in April

‘Clouds’ Acrylic and mixed media of deep cradled panel board. 15cm x 15cm x 5cm

Available on my website https://traceyelizabethdowning.com

Today it’s snowing, it softly falls, and I am thinking about what it means to me, today. I am not scientist or weather specialist but the snow in April reminded me today that all seems a bit off kilter in the world, but also that the seasons and the weather can evoke so much within us.

 Snow where I live, is a novelty, I just posted a tiny film called a REEL on my Instagram grid and even found a song by Prince called ‘Sometimes it Snows in April’. I don’t know the whole song, but he mentions sadness. Snow is cold but also quite beautiful and it made me think about the hard things that fall softly over time, losses and memories that seep into us and what we can do to ‘weather’ the various storms, gentle or strong, sudden or pervasive that happen upon us.

This weekend was a series of mini rollercoasters for me, from elation to disappointment with a mixture of suspense and suspicion.

 Having been living in an isolated kind of online party for the last year, growing increasingly busy with half real-life connections has sharpened my senses in a way and although I am, like so many, looking forward to meeting people ‘In real life’ again, even as an extrovert I feel, to be honest, quite nervous.

 So, what can be an answer to all these questions? I don’t know about you, but for me routine, having some ‘same things’ that happen the same way at the same time every day is a must. I let my nurturing daily yoga practice slide for a week, I missed logging in to writer’s hour with The London Writer’s Salon and just those two things that have re-started my day today; feel SO helpful now that I am back to them!

 I have made some plans to meet dear friends outside soon.  Sending WhatsApp voice messages and doing some LIVES on Instagram have weirdly helped me keep hold of my voice. I don’t live alone, but gosh that must feel even more surreal. If I did, I am sure I would be making best friends with the post person etc.

 So today, I hope the snow doesn’t feel too cold for you. In my paintings and drawings, the theme of clouds and rain/tears crops up time and time again, I go with it. Snow has a different kind of falling, both light and substantial at the same time, leaving a visible coating to remind us where it fell. I think I’ll make some snowy pictures today and think about it some more.

 By the way, I’ve just been listening to the full song by Prince and it’s about someone called Tracey that he lost! Spooky synchronicity strikes again… and now I find myself thinking about my own Father who I barely knew and barely knew me either, I’ve honestly not really considered what he might have felt about losing me, which in a way he did.

 Anyway, the snow has melted now, and the sun is breaking through the clouds and I can see some blue sky. I hope today is kind to you. x

Back in the Ring

Yesterday was my first full day working in my garden studio since moving my art practice back home. When I’ve had a break from painting I often get anxious about starting again, almost like being frozen in time, not knowing how to start. This may sound surprising? Painting isn’t a new activity to me; I’ve been making marks on paper with various materials for most of my life but the worry about the results can be pervasive.

 Each weekday morning for the last 2 weeks I’ve been joining Writer’s Hour with London Writer’s Salon. It proves to me that sometimes, I function best in a pseudo communal space, a bit like being in a classroom but getting on quietly, all together. I have been really productive during these times; I’ve written morning pages, poetry, worked on content for my newsletter, all things that I would often put off and today I started this blog post. It’s so fascinating how a community of strangers via zoom can be so helpful. I think it’s the shared intention and commitment to make full use of the hour, which might, like other portions of time, seep away.

 This morning my computer was saying no! Wifi issue or something but I still joined in late and asked to see the Words of Wisdom that are shared daily at the beginning, I love this quote; I am familiar with the writing of Gilbert and Solnit, both have helped me along my creative path.

We don’t have time for perfect. In any event, perfection is unachievable: It’s a myth and a trap 
and a hamster wheel that will run you to death. The writer Rebecca Solnit puts it well: “So many of us believe in perfection, which ruins everything else, because the perfect is not only the enemy of the good, it’s also the enemy of the realistic, the possible, and the fun.”
– Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear (quoting American writer 
Rebecca Solnit)


Yesterday an Artist friend of over 30 years who lives in Oxford suggest we work together via WhatsApp video chat. Chatting and working in my sketchbook was just what I needed. I spoke about how hard it has felt for me to get back to painting and how the last few weeks I’ve had been busy in my sketch books but now I wanted to paint. She told me how she does a kind of dance when she gets ready to paint, I imagined the nimble prancing of a boxer in the ring, steadying and readying for the first punch or blow! This surprised me a bit because although Ali is a runner (I saw her run under the bridge I was standing on for the last London Marathon, which was very special and emotional.. I don’t run and never will) she has long legs and a calm languid gait, at least that’s my observation.

 I thought about this after we said goodbye and having been absorbed in making drawings of my surroundings while we chatted I thought I’d take on an idea she shared about painting on cardboard and letting go of precious precision.

 It made me think about how restrictive it can feel to wear smart white clothes, I rarely wear all white because it’s just too stressful! As a child I’m not sure I was free enough to come home muddy kneed and grubby, I think I was always quite contained (unless dancing which I still love).

Painting is teaching me how to live and let go more and the fresh canvas that is waiting like a wall flower for me to grab and dance with is still there.  I made a painting of it, the back of it as the stark white front still feels inhibiting.

 So here’s what I made before I shut my studio door for the day and honestly? It was the best thing I made all day.

 I’ve called it ‘Shadow Boxing’ I love the way the image is of the back of a canvas and a window too.

 I’m dedicating this one to Ali. You can see her reel on Instagram that inspired our chat and got me painting again here:

https://www.instagram.com/alisonberrettartist/

It never ceases to intrigue me how when we put pen to paper or brush to cardboard or whatever we choose, the images we make speak back to us, whispering suggestions to help us carry on.

 So if you’re feeling stuck as I was, chat to a friend, share your anxiety, look around you, find something you don’t mind messing up and just go for it. Paint the first thing that catches your eye. It really doesn’t matter.

Last but not least many thanks to the team at https://londonwriterssalon.com I’ve loved joining the writer’s hour each morning and it’s really helped with my writing routine. Do have a look if you think you’d like to join.

Here’s the painting I made…it’s just a start but my reticence has left.

‘Shadow Boxing’ 35cm x 75cm Gouache on cardboard.

On Endings and Beginnings

I was struck with a simple truth yesterday whilst painting over the Polyfilla at the studio I leave tomorrow, along with thoughts about community and how important it is to connect with others, in whichever way we can.

As I begin writing, I am joined by 300 others all writing at the same time as me, on Zoom (of course) I am therefore, alone but not alone. I’ve had a quick look at the list of names and can see some of the faces on my screen, one person I know who I was messaging yesterday is here and there’s a name I recognise and am wondering if it’s that person I used to know a few years ago, people from all over the world are here, joining together in shared purpose and intention.

Taking my studio on in December 2019 at Wimbledon Art Studios was a big deal for me, a commitment to time and a financial investment too. Some of my friends and family didn’t seem to understand why I would want to rent a room in a huge building that was cold in the winter and hot in the summer plus a short drive away, when I had a perfectly good space in my garden. Well for me, it was a step further into Art being my professional vocation. It felt more like I was a proper Artist going to work, doing exactly what felt right in a way that I could manage. I set my studio up with some great furniture and made it mine. I made some good Artist friends there and also sold paintings through the Art Fairs which were online due to the Covid-19 pandemic. That was a big disappointment as the big bi-annual Art fairs were part of my rationale for choosing my studio, to increase my visibility and make new contacts. Also, I love meeting new people face to face.

I told myself I would give it a year and see how it went and it has been a great year, I’ve moved forward professionally and creatively and made paintings I’m pleased with.

So why am I moving out now ? Is it a difficult ending ?

Well it’s a combination of reasons, my health, Covid-19, hanging up my Art Therapist Hat.

I made the decision within a few days a few weeks ago; with stipulations that I do what I need to my home space to make it feel more like an Artist’s studio. So in the space of a few weeks I have emptied and cleaned studio 253, repainted my home studio with 3 coats of white emulsion, moved the furniture back in and sorted through so many boxes and folders of art work and materials I felt my brain was falling out. Querulous as to why it has felt SO exhausting, a friend told me yesterday “you’ve been making micro decisions back to back for the last 2 weeks! You’re bound to feel tired” this really helps, and normalises my feelings lest I go down the health anxiety route and suspect there’s something else ‘wrong’ with my body or my mind!

So, can an ending be a beginning?

Surprisingly my leaving Studio 253 hasn’t been nearly as hard as I thought it might be.

I think an ending is a beginning of ‘difference’, a time to evaluate, absorb and process. Endings can be very hard, I know close friends who are negotiating their own unwanted endings and it’s really painful so I hope I’m not trite in what I write.

One thing I was most concerned about in leaving my studio was that I would be closing doors in terms of contact with the outside world both creatively and commercially, but in the space of 48 hours of handing in my notice I was accepted into a group of Artists and Makers where I can show my work and invited to join a new printmaking studio very close to home as a key holder! Both opportunities came my way without me even searching for them so as one door closes two more open! How exciting is that!

I love social media and reading a friend’s post on Instagram made me aware of The London Writer’s Salon which I joined and today is my first day writing with a host of other creatives, so exciting and proof to me that I need some contact with the outside world and accountability.

These words were shared this morning which are so affirming! And confirm to me that it’s going to be ok, I’m ok. I hope you’re ok too, whatever your plans and dreams are.  

“I wish I'd known that the hard days, the days when you struggle and the work feels false and frustrating are not signs that you're not up to the task or that you're on the wrong path. 
They're actually just signs that you're trying to do something bigger and more challenging than you've ever done before. Those are the days that matter, not the ones when the words flow and you feel like a genius. But I guess I'd also say that "success" is not something you arrive at. It's a moving target. First you just want to finish a draft, then you want to land an agent, then you want to sell a book, then you pray the book will sell. It goes on and on, and if you're always living for the next milestone, you may forget to look around and appreciate where you are. I had a friend tell me you should mark every bit of good news with a little champagne. Excellent advice.” 



Leigh Bardugo, bestselling novelist 

So, if you’d love to write with others:

https://londonwriterssalon.com/

If you’d love to find out about the group of Artists and Makers I am now part of:

https://7dialsart.com

If you’d like to get my newsletter and a new Moem (my word for poem) on a Monday once a month plus exclusive previews to my new work and promotions:

https://traceyelizabethdowning.com/

Last but not least, if you’re looking for a fab new studio that’s part of a friendly creative community of Artists and Makers, you never know you might just find yourself in Studio 253, let me know and I’ll come and see you!

https://wimbledonartstudios.co.uk

Thanks for reading I hope you’re safe and well,

Tracey xxx

Goodbye Studio 253, hello again Garden Studio, let’s get painting again.

Groundhog Day... again?

So this got me writing a blog this morning…

Today my favourite calendar arrived, a month late because I didn’t order it in time and was wondering whether to have a change this year. Every Christmas for the last few years I’ve bought 2 Rob Ryan Calendars, one for my daughter and one for me. She fell in love with Rob’s work before I did and when she often says I follow her ideas she’s right because she has good taste! Rob’s work is beautiful so if you don’t know it do have a look. You can see the image for February below and if you’re unsure if you were born out of love you’re not alone. I love the humour in this image along with the seriousness. On the calendar part I noticed that today IS the real life Groundhog Day!

Groundhog Day is a popular North American tradition observed in the United States and Canada on February 2nd. It derives from the Pennsylvania Dutch superstition that if a Groundhog emerging from its burrow on this day sees its shadow due to clear weather, it will retreat to its den and winter will persist for six more weeks; but if it does not see its shadow because of cloudiness, spring will arrive early.

It’s also the name of a film in which a cynical TV weatherman finds himself reliving the same day over and over again when he goes on location to the small town of Punxsutawney to film a report about their annual Groundhog Day. His predicament drives him to distraction, until he sees a way of turning the situation to his advantage. It’s an entertaining film.

So a moment ago it was sunny and now it’s cloudy so I’m not sure what that means about Spring coming but the information in the film summary made me think.

Today I started yoga again after a few weeks break, it always makes me feel better yet there’s still resistance within me. Why? Do you have similar blocks that stop you from doing what’s good for you? Lockdown has given me the opportunity to slow down which has been a good thing for me and to a large extent I’ve found comfort in the routine’s we’ve embraced in our home. In fact I’ve become a bit rigid, “no I am NOT doing any laundry today because today is NOT laundry day etc etc”, there’s security in familiarity yet a conflict between regularity and spontaneity. I think it’s all about balance.

So is there a way we can turn these days that feel all the same to some positive end? I think so. I know for many it’s really stressful and exhausting, medics, teachers, all the other essential workers that are oblivious to languid lockdown life. It’s impossible to write about it without acknowledging the disconnect between my life and others. I’ve decided my challenge to myself is to embrace the Groundhogedness and use the time I have to cement a routine that helps me be a person that can be the best in this situation and not just for me. I discovered an organisation called https://www.actionforhappiness.org/ this morning through a post on instagram. There’s a calendar (yes another one) you can download with prompts to be a good friend and make a difference to others called Friendly February. I really like that! So as well as my https://www.yogawithadriene/ (if you need a nurturing yoga boost she is wonderful, you can find her on youtube) calendar and being part of https://www.the100dayproject/ my intention for this month is to keep going back to the same beneficial activities and to share some love too.

Last week in The Connected Artist Group I’m part of we were given a journal prompt to think about what difference our Art makes in the world, I’m still thinking about that and at times I feel it can all sound so hedonistic to spend so much time on myself and my inner world and outer creativity. However, I do know that the more content we are, the more able we are to encourage others. There’s a quote by Sandra D Wilson “Hurt people Hurt people” which is really true. I’m relinquishing my Art Therapy Practice soon but its obvious that hat is on to stay to a large extent as I am still so interested in how we all function together in our lives.

A while ago during my Systemic Family Therapy training I learnt about the power of paradox, a case study was shared with us whereby a couple that were locked into daily arguing were instructed by their Therapist to find a time each day specifically to have their argument! It sounds odd, some therapy really is but guess what?

Paradoxically when they decided to find a time to truly concentrate on their differences it took the power out of their conflicts, renewed their sense of humour and was a real turning point in their relationship.

Creatively for me there’s a fine line between conscious and unconscious intention; yesterday I was joking with a friend about my 100dayproject #ephemerallymine (you can follow the hashtag on instagram). My project is concerned with responding creatively to the banal details I notice each day and suddenly what came naturally to me before, felt like a formulaic effort! Something else to challenge me. The best paintings I make are when I lose myself in the process. Maggie Hambling the Artist talks about how paintings paint themselves and how the artist is the vehicle of channel. For me the challenge lies in not getting in the way of myself, (I feel like I’ve written this before but it might just be deja vu, it totally resonates with me anyway).

So many interesting things to think about, thanks for reading. I’d love to hear your responses and find out how you’v been managing the Groundhog Days.

If you’d like to get my monthly newsletter and A Moem a Month on a Monday (a new poem by me) please sign up via my website https://www.traceyelizabethdowning.com and if you’d like a Rob Ryan Calendar of you own you can get one via the organisation that sends all things everywhere. I’d love to buy a real print but for now my purse can only stretch to a calendar.

Tracey x

February 2021 image from Rob Ryan’s Calendar

January Thoughts

It’s the first day of the New Year and last night was quieter than usual for us at home as I’m sure it has been for other families in Tier 4 lockdown in the UK. I’m grateful that so far we have remained well and the quieter days have enabled me to reassess the year that’s gone and plan ahead.

We ate around the fire pit we bought for our Christmas present to ourselves and enjoyed burning more of the paperwork accumulated during ‘project sort the house out’!

For those of you who follow me on social media you’ll have seen my #tendayproject posts with photos and Art from way back when. it’s been fascinating going through folders I found in the loft and noticing the similarities and differences between my creative practice from then to now, spanning over 30 years.

Noticing is a big part of my process and something that caught my attention recently became the basis of new paintings and a Moem which I wrote in response to the painting. Something about the image resonated with me and how I was feeling at the time. The whole mixture of feelings that culminate when we are challenged and life has to be different.

I hope you find a way to cultivate creativity and curiosity ( 3 words beginning with C that add positivity to life ) and that 2021 brings you health and happiness even with the bumps along the way.

This year I am looking forward to developing my painting and writing and am grateful I can do what I love. Here’s my Moem, the painting and the ‘noticing’ that sparked it. I have a whole book of ‘Noticings’ which form the basis of much of my work. I’ve titled the painting ‘I’m a little bit happy I’m a little bit sad’.

I’m a little bit happy  

I’m a little bit sad 

Some days are good 

And some are bad 

Whether yellow or mellow 

Quite often I’m blue  

On the days of no hellos 

When I’m  thinking of you  

It’s fab that  you’re  fine 

That’s the best best part  

I’ll get used to the time 

That we are apart  

I’m a little bit happy  

I’m a little bit sad 

But mostly I’m happy  

For the times we’ve had  

Tracey Elizabeth Downing

On not watching you watching me.

Such strange days these are. I’ve been updating my website in time for the Wimbledon Online Art Fair and still tweaking as I go. I’ve realised a website is a lot like a painting and takes time to create. This surprised me as I hadn’t anticipated the organic nature that it could assume ; hence here I am on the last day of the Fair still making changes. In fact thinking there may be people I’ve never met before looking at my work whilst this writing is going on in the background is curious. I’m writing some reflections on what the experience has been like for me and am interested to hear your thoughts as we’ve become more accustomed to connecting in the virtual space and may well be moving back to some kind of restrained normality sooner than we thought.

I moved into studio 253 in December 2019 which was a significant move for me having been working at home alone in my garden studio. The May Art Fair was the show I was preparing for and I was looking forward to meeting visitors. Over the last few years my art practice had become an increasing part of my daily life but more in terms of my Art Therapy connections. Last year marked the transition to becoming an almost full-time Artist; I took part in two open studio events elsewhere and really enjoyed engaging with the visitors I met. I was both excited and nervous in preparation for this years May Art Fair as I know how hard the team work to market the event, that it’s well established and attracts 100o’s of visitors. Going online has still been a way of showing my work but in a much more digital way which had me slowly but surely climbing tech mountain with a few experienced climbers to help me from falling backwards.

Being fairly extrovert I wondered how I might facilitate connection with the visitors that might be looking at my work but not seeing me or rather me not seeing them. I wrote a brief hello letter to accompany my 3 paintings on the Art Fair landing page inviting telephone calls or face time chats with any questions about my Art or practice. I got a text message from a lady asking about the size of my paintings as it wasn’t obvious to click on the images to find more information. That was encouraging and the second time someone has commented that they’d like a much larger painting of mine. Cue for me to go large then! Other than that it’s been a quiet weekend, I’ve tinkered with my website, taken onboard some style advice and wondered about how I priced my work, too high? too low? I just don’t know. The whole experience has reminded me of the parallel process of how we shop for essential items in Covid-19 days, like a slowed down spaced out version of supermarket sweep but with face masks ; limited engagement with strangers and suspicious shifts out of each other’s way 2 metres apart of course. No smiles either.

Then I started thinking back to my Art Psychotherapy training, and the references to mirroring and intersubjectivity. In other terms, how we relate to each other, and are defined by our interactions with others. Infants understand themselves through the mirroring they receive from their carers, or not, and can grow up unsure of their selfhood and identity later in life if this was lacking early on. I looked up Merleau-Ponty, a philosopher who wrote about intersubjectivity and the last book before he died was titled ‘The Visible and the Invisible ‘ (1968) something to read another time but just the title resonated with my feelings about the symbiosis of it all !

Anyway, my point? It’s a question rather than an answer really. How does our Art communicate outside of us? How important is the relationship between the viewer, the article and the maker? Whilst my Art practice is therapeutic for me personally, in as much as it helps me process experiences, it is a communication with myself as much as with others if not more, but not true Art Therapy. Another question: does it matter if it communicates with others too? I hope that it elicits curiosity but maybe it’s good for me to look outwards instead of inwards and think about what it does communicate. Maybe you can tell me how it speaks to you?

So has my first big Art Fair been a success so far? In terms of where I’m now situated with my Art practice, my writing and my journey towards the top of tech mountain; definitely. Have a I pushed myself and learnt more than I thought I would ? YES, am I happy about it? Of course.

These weeks at home have certainly afforded me time I’ve needed to see myself more clearly and to consider how I am seen, even if you’re the invisible reader.

Anyway it’s been nice writing to you even though we’ve not met. Maybe we can converse in some other way.

I hope you stay safe and well and thanks for reading my blog no 2 :)

Here’s a Moem for you (my word for my poems which are moments in time or thought recorded, or on a bad day a cross between a moan and a poem. I’ll need to write one about unlocking lockdown soon, but not too soon I hope, we’ve still a way to go in tackling C-19

Stay at home vacation

There’s a kind of quiet elation

That’s born out of isolation

No more walking to the station

For now

The degrees of separation

In the news to all the nation

Might cause exasperation 

It’s true

Yet I hear the flowers whisper

And colours seem much crisper

And the energy they muster

Feels new

Lots of ands and oughts and shoulds

If we could turn back we would

We’re all looking for the good

Somewhere

It’s a time of pain and sorrow

Lots of worries for tomorrow

Hoping there’s more time to borrow

It’s bleak

There is strangeness in disaster

Waiting doesn’t make things faster

Something we will learn to master

In time

So remember your connections

Who to contact in vexation

For we all feel trepidation

Inside

Let’s let go of hard held feelings

You know the kind that leave us reeling

Now is not the time for screaming

But peace

Oh I could go on forever

But my thoughts I need to tether

And I’m wondering if you’ve fallen

Asleep 

So one more line or three

This is the place we need to be

One day we will be free

There’s hope

Always hope

Tracey Elizabeth Downing May 2020

On Art and my Silver Lining

This is my first ever blog post. I am welcoming myself to this as much as you as to be honest I never thought of myself as a bloggy kind of person before.

 Anyway things do change.

 So I looked up the formal definition of the silver lining idiom, as of late it’s a phrase I use often in relation to my Art practice (note the capital A because it is a capital activity for me).

 Silver Lining

 It is appropriate to use the term silver lining when you want to emphasise the hopeful side of a situation of a situation that might seem gloomy on the surface. The common expression “every cloud has a silver lining” means that even the worst events or situations have some positive aspect.

 Now I don’t believe this in totality, clearly some events have no positive aspects at all so my intention isn’t to negate those, or to be insensitive but to highlight how it applies to me. Maybe you too have experienced your own silver linings?

 Today I am getting ready to meet and greet the public in my locality at my first Artists Open studios art trail. I’m sharing a venue with 6 other local artists and have no idea how the 4 days will go. This time last year I didn’t have a clue I would be doing this, I was working as an Art Psychotherapist with young people, doing all the other normal family things, seeing friends etc.  Anyway ongoing symptoms led to a diagnosis which has given me no choice but to adapt my life. This post is about Art and my life, not a health forum so I’m not going into the details here; I have thought about using my Art for fund raising and awareness for rare diseases but want to concentrate on how amazing Art is here for now.

 I’ve always loved all things creative, Art, music, dancing, singing, a bit of acting. You will usually find me on the dance floor at a party (I can still do this thank goodness!) I still do a touch of grown up ballet with with grown up daughter where we have much fun and laughter in a truly competitive yet supportive kind of way.

 So I suddenly found myself with lots more time. Time to reflect, adapt and importantly make Art! I’m a qualified Art Psychotherapist so In theory in knew all about the benefits of Art making but now I know for myself too.  It’s been truly brilliant (and challenging at times) getting to this point and I’ve only just begun really. I’ve met some amazing people over the last few years who have all contributed to me developing what I love to do most and what makes me feel truly me. It can sound like a cliché but being able to engage with the activities that are close to your heart can be truly life-changing. I really do believe that everyone has a creative side no matter how it’s expressed.

 So short and sweet I hope, but definitely hopeful.

 I’ll let you know how it goes..

 Tracey D xxx