It finally came




A Wednesday as snug as a bug spent drawing maps, making soups, and  being on weather watch, the perfect preparation for todays wild hill walking. Waking with an intent to climb, to explore the bay in the the blizzards, I enshrouded myself in silk thermals, a hand knitted balaclava, dried mangos in my pocket, senses heightened.  I saw  shetland pony siblings, oystercatcher foot prints, hidden islands, unexpected lochs. A crucial day, the kindling of a new love for an exceptional place. I could have walked forever. It gets dark behind me while I warm my bones through, thawing out with hot tea. These are the days I'll savour. 

submerged in books (awaiting snow)



'As I walked out one midsummer morning', Laurie Lee. Completed on the train from Manchester to Aberdeen, (provided a conversation point and memory lane trip). 
'The Old man and the sea', Ernest Hemingway. Devoured on the crossing from Aberdeen to Lerwick (provided vivid dreams of talking marlins and lone sailors, a sleepless sleep).
'A book of Silence', Sara Maitland. Immersed in the detailed search for sublime silence, (a nigh time companion, high in rafters, listening to the weather).
No book binding, just book submersion. 6 friends left while the sky is too cold for snow or exploration.

Shetland light



Acres of petrol blue sky lay before me, dot to dot bays scatter the coastline. I stumble. laden with sizable paper rolls, to the nesting booth in Scalloway. A sea legged desire for silence, solitude, simplicity. Sleeping to the sounds of the waves lapping at the wall while waking to the suns glistening reflection. The day cuts through  order, routine, habit. I bathe in moonlight and watch the boats slip away and back to the harbor, soundlessly through liquid mercury. 

City sleep over



To Aberdeen the granite city. Over seven hours watching the sun rise over the eastern coastline, my city wanderings in the bitter winds were far from picturesque. The icey air bit my fingers, carried me to the harbour and catapulted me a board the good ship Hjaltland. Grey days, slipping in and out of sleep, the kindness of strangers and a hotel room upgrade soothed me for an expectedly  choppy Sunday sea crossing.

A Tea party send off

Friday tea time saw a flurry of homebaked cakes and the best Bon Voyage I could have wished for. Date & Walnut cake, cherry buns, German marble cake, cream  sponge, banoffie pie, choux pastry, chocolate chip biscuits, marmalade and mix tapes. A late night sugar rush, a quick bag pack, a  short dream  and a 4am wake up call, I began on my northerly journey, just before the snow came.

Dark day

Dragging heels. Submersion for hour long bathing periods. Clinging to the cold side of the tub, a bare back/a hair stroke/a  hand squeeze to alleviate head long confusion and aches. A long way from departure yet a close encounter with suffering. Everyone  struggles in the January bleak. Memories wreak havoc on the frequency bar and need not become habitual comforts. Meditating through the trapeze act with only a few more catches to make.  

January Casualty

A little robin flew into the bedroom window of my dads house in Lincolnshire. I felt the need to give it  a small memorial. Thanks to my dad for sending me his portrait.

Wrapping up two zero zero eight




Farewell Last, Welcome New Year. A fortnight away, spent on two coastlines was the remedy for a clearing of the decks, a reassessment of needs/must. Frosty crisp midnight skies signal a homecoming, a return to form. Letters of thanks, coated in paper-lined envelopes, decorated with out-seasoned stamps line the correspondence table awaiting an expedition to the out post. An un-thumbed journal encourages  list composing to order thoughts, dreams and most importantly, desires. Counting down to simplicity, 23 days before my 24 hour journey, keeping head above water.

Christmas Dinners

Twelve days of Christmas have brought me Figgy Pudding, Hazelnut-topped-chocolate-dipped-shortbread, Lemon curd cake, Mint crisp wafers, Banana bread, Pecan brownies, Aphrodisiac-passion-fruit moose, Love-baked-biscuits. Dragging home an ugly tree, dressing it with crows and golden bells, dancing the kitchen Charltston in denial of gift shopping duties.

Seasonal Dreams


Several weekend exhibition commitments have lulled me into long, deep, mid-week sleeps. Dreaming remanents preoccupy the waking hours, blanketed moments, afternoon naps and feather down. Maurice-Sendak-induced-fantasies of sleepy children flying through the night air, seeking solace in conversation with woodland animals. By the new year a revised schedule of sleeping pattern will emerge and sleeping through the cold days while working long into the night will no doubt influence my day-dreams.

A chance to catch up



If you're stuck for creative ideas this Christmas, pop along to the East London Design show in Shoreditch Town Hall from Thursday 4th until Sunday 7th December. It showcases many of London's most creative independent designers  and gives you the chance to buy directly from the makers while sipping some festive cheer. I will be showing new work on stand 30 alongside my wonderfully talented sister Alice Eden, whose delectable jewellery appears to  fly off the shelves. Come by and say 'Hi' to me, and bag yourself a treat!

Twin sleeps



Imagination can be a frightening thing. A few treasured moments between friends during a few evenings of fear. Nights spent listening to the Railway Dentist, ears like satellites, warm shoulders of comfort, midnight feasts, 999 calls - an arm of safety, borrowed pajamas, soft-boiled eggs, a P&P box set, a reasoning, a logic. Preparation is key to survive the coming months. The Shetland fantasy treats me well, allows a concentration, a nerve, a desire.  

Notions of home


A bitter weekend took me home to Lincolnshire. Winter creeps through the cracks in the door, long cross country train journeys  are welcomed with warming roast dinners and sweet baby breath. Time ticks on as decisions are made, smiles reappear as tears dry up, tolerance develops and hearts evolve, leaves turn while weekends become memories that refuse to linger. Learning to love is priority, trying to forgive  is essential. November afternoon sun becomes a medicine.

february cemented

To experience the coldest of climates is a desire I've always had, and come February 2009 I will be holding my breath as tightly as my countless hot water bottles. A month at the booth in shetland will see me right for a concentrated effort of reading, writing, looking, drawing, being. Counting the days until I set sail for a voyage of discovery, accompanied only by thermals, red wine  and paper.

work shopping


Every day is filled with workshop thoughts of late, evening schools, weekend master classes, early morning preparations and midnight ideas. The next 3 months are filled to the brim with sharing the love of books with anyone who talks to me for long enough...waxing lyrically on form & content, sequence & narrative, grain direction & Somerset papers, teflon bone folders & gun-metal book cloths, linen thread thicknesses & guillotine pressure, creasing machine maths & foil-blocking temperatures...

thimble editions


October was all about printing, typing, folding, cutting, gluing, pressing, posting. The last 5 copies of 'Thimble of Hope' were finally completed and ready for seasonal stocking to my favourite shops. Another 25 copies of '42' also left the confines of the studio and now reside with good company in the Special Collections of Manchester Metropolitan University library along with lining the private bookshelves of sensitive souls. There's nothing doing in not doing. Making becomes my way through.

this time tomorrow


An exclusive invitation from the first Aberfeldy Book festival took me on a monumental train journey north to the warm, tea drinking Temple gallery for a weekend of windows and workshops. A sea of paper boats were cut, folded and hung by the comfort of the roaring fire, while locals tentatively peered in to see what all the laughing and smiling was about. By Saturday morning word in the town was out that sail boats bobbed in mid-air on Dunkeld Street. A well attended mini book making workshop followed and was received with enthusiasm. By sunset I was racing through the exquisite landscape to seek my own life boat in Edinburgh for a dose of unique hugs and a rice pudding supper.   

Strong armed days

Inky hands, reams of cloth and a fierce determination led to 100 'Feuding angels' being born in time for arrivals to shopkeepers in early Autumn. Silver screen heroines Bette Davis and Joan Crawford sport the figures of angels, designed to be cut out of canvas and carefully sewn together leaving their hemlines open to be elegantly positioned aloft the Christmas tree, keeping watch of your yuletide proceedings. Soon to be available for 'Bauble II' at: www.theshopfloorproject.com 

"I Wish you were here...



..as diagonal sleet sweeps across the landscape". I headed to Hastings for the 'Wish you were here' Costal Currents weekend at Crabbe Palace by the sea. A delicious exhibition of seven artists work responding to the theme of awayness.  We threw a lively opening with gin & tonics, cream cakes, a tombola, a video projection  onto a pub wall, books in suitcases galore, a bibliotherapist and a splendid official opening speech by Iain Sinclair. The show was open over two weekends as part of the Hastings open studio event, 'Costal Currents'. The beautiful Ms L. Crabbe was our curator and hostess for the event which drew a spirited local crowd as well as a dedicated audience from further afield. I left an honesty box for visitors to deposit one British pound in exchange for one 'I wish you were here...' letterpress printed postcard. Twenty sentiments adorned 600 postcards creating a narrative when read in sequence, or hinted sentiments when read individually. I wish you here...' to soothe a primal fear'...'brimful of tingling firecracker thoughts'...'pacing around me like a wary wild thing'...'to provide a brow stroke, a hand squeeze, a sign.'