Moleskine Pages- The Heat

The heat did funny things to their memories. Some melted clean away, while she struggled to put the fires out. Others inched towards the arctic region of her brain. The rest slumbered obliviously in photo albums unaware of the carnage going on.

Setchbook Pages - Lactation

Every time he lays on a couch, memories flooded his feeble brain. It forced her to lactate on demand.

Moleskine Pages- Red Biscuit Tin

We had some unused wishes in a light- weight, red biscuit tin. It felt good to know that...secure...

Fresh Air Doesn't Guarantee Breathing - Moleskine Art

One of my gifts for my fourth birthday was a Wade wall plaque of a cat's face. My mother thought I'd like it as I was animal crazy. She hung it over my bed lovingly. Now this was the meanest looking cat I'd ever seen.

 To my childish eyes it looked as if it had been skinned, it's rictus grin never faltering. If I saw that cat's head now I'd probably find it quite sweet and charming, but in my head it has taken on mythical powers of evil. I'd fantasize that it was spying on me, that it was colluding with my mother to thwart my every independent move, that says more about my relationship with my mother than anything else. My brother and sisters still remember that head with a shudder so it wasn't all in my mind.I have found the offending article online, so you can see for yourself.

Seaside Suicide - Moleskine Art

When I was very young, a highlight of the summer was the Sunday school outing. Usually at a tiny old fashioned play park called Wannock Gardens. We'd have a picnic lunch, play on the rides, visit the resident water otter,  and spend our pocket money on cheap crap in the gift shop. My mother for some unknown reason told us we could no longer go there as it had fallen into the sea, now it was close to the sea but I didn't think it was that close. I often thought of that magical little place and wished it was still around for my children to see. I discovered recently that it didn't in fact fall into the sea it had just closed down because the owners couldn't maintain it. On the way back from this visit we'd stop near Beachy head, a famous suicide spot that boasts it's own resident counsellor who tries to talk people out of ending it all. I'd look over the edge and shiver as a child not really knowing why, but sensing that this was a very sad place. Over the years the idea of suicide and my Sunday school outings became intertwined as I'd picture The entire play park committing suicide. Thanks mum, yet another unnecessary lie that screwed me up!

Moleskine Diary pages

It is widely believed among the old wives of Arabia that a bite by a rabid dog results in the human giving birth to a litter of puppies. My Arabic grandmother was convinced of this, and knowing our English obsession with dogs, would warn us of this on a regular basis. This only acted as an incentive as far as I could see, to find a rabid dog to bite me. I was going to get a litter of puppies one way or another.

Moleskine pages, yet more old stuff!

In order to not overwhelm the viewer I am adding some old pages in small doses, I hope you appreciate my kind consideration!

More Moleskine pages (older ones)

I have a backlog of over 36 completed Moleskine sketchbooks thus far, and they are the only part of my work that is not for sale. Too much time , blood, sweat..blah blah goes into them and it makes it impossible to put a price on them. I do enjoy looking through them now and again, and I am always surprised by how completely I forget what I've done. It's as if they were someone Else's work and words. I did say I'd post some older pages and this is what this  is about.

Certain events in my life messed with my head and forced me to question the fundamentals of good and evil, right and wrong. It also turned me away from rigid inflexible dogma that allows people to set themselves up as judge and jury. To decide who lives and who dies and why.

This depicts some complex feelings about being a girl child in a place that favoured little princes. Of having to steal enough of the spotlight to see me through. Apparently the lack of a penis rendered me unworthy. Funny that!

These images touch on some very deep emotional subjects about my life. There are complex back-stories to each of them. I'd be happy to answer any questions you may have.

A new Moleskine began Jan 16th 2011

As I reach the end of a sketch book the temptation to rush and finish it can be very hard to resist! But I have learnt to enjoy slowing down and savouring the last couple of pages and making sure they are just as interesting (to me) as the first page. I do set myself a target of 8 weeks per book give or take a few days. At times, like Christmas when I am quite busy I'll stretch that to 10 weeks, but I don't feel happy about it. My challenge to myself is a minimum of one two page spread per day, so no sleep till I have achieved at least that! I put little clues on eventful days so when I look back through the book I have clear memories of what I was doing on hat day.  Having said that, once a few months (or years) have passed I can look through a book and have no recollection of any of it!
Over time I have collected a large stash of finished books that sit in the corner of my studio daring me to do something with them. I did break one of my most fundamental rules by selling one of the books to the the Aldrich Collection. I feel pretty ambivalent about that as I am not particularly attached to my books in fact I am strangely detached from them. I do though see the need of keeping them together simply as a sequence, every book represents a chunk of my life.

There is one volume that is more precious to me than the others, and it was the book that saw me through the awful last weeks of my pregnancy in 2003, the birth and then the death of my beautiful, perfect 7.5 lbs baby boy Cyrus five days later. It was that book that kept me sane. Some of the images and words are still very raw and I find it very difficult to look at them. One day I may summon the courage to publish some of the pages but I don't see the point of involving innocent bystanders in my own personal tragedy. I don't know I am writing this, it isn't something I have ever talked about to anyone other than my doctor and family , but heyho it's out there now.
Once a book is finished it joins it's predecessors on the shelf and I can pick a new one from my new pile. The feel, smell, and hope that com with a new book are one of my life's little pleasures. I'm excited, enthusiastic and full of ideas. So my new book on January !6th and I'm already 4 pages in. The book still looks and feels new , so I am still treating it with a stupid reverence that will shortly wear off ( thankfully).