Scribbling for January

Strong seams.

This post is about drawing, specifically about Wendy MacNaughton’s ‘Draw Together - Grown Ups Table’, or GUT as she refers to it, which reminds me to eat more sauerkraut, so extra bonus there. It’s a January drawing challenge which about two and half thousand people plus me have joined from all around the world. We spend 10 minutes a day, sometimes more if we cheat, following a prompt from Wendy or one her art aunties. It is a joy to flex these muscles again, I even like some of my own work which is not usual, being my own worst critic of course.

We started with doodles, promoted by looking at various artist’s work, my favourite being Hiroyuki Doi’s tiny circles creating tiny universes. We went on to drawing things that delight us - no surprises for anyone who knows me that tea cups feature heavily in mine. Then there was a blind contour challenge which I loved - draw the contours of something without looking at the page at all - harder than you might think.

Today’s subject is clothes that delight. Right now I don’t have anything that truly delights me, apart from a little woolly tank top I bought recently. Everything I have seems to be ganging up to show case my expanding tummy so they can all stay in the drawer. Then I remembered this glorious garment that my mother gave me some years back when I was doing an oil painting course.

My mother is an extraordinary woman, now 96. She is a theologian, a feminist, an author, an artist, a mother, a crusader for justice and creator of vegetable gardens. The third image above is a wood cut she did for her book ‘Gifts in the Ruins - Rediscovering What Matters Most’ (she loves a subtitle my mum) which is a lovely, accessible (a lot her work isn’t especially easy to read) little book on hope and joy.

When she gave me this smock I was incredibly moved and slightly daunted - I still haven’t worn it to paint in. It was given to her when she was at the Slade I think, by a nun (there have been lots of nuns in my mum’s life). It is hand made, and while it’s worn and spattered by decades of paint it has no holes and the seams are strong. As usual with my mum she downplayed any significance but I think it was clear there a baton being handed on here because she had more or less stopped painting by then. I cannot claim to have my mother’s talents, in any areas really, but she and I will always share this love of drawing and painting, at least for a while longer.

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I originally had a rant lined up for this post. Or a recipe for gnocchi (it’s coming, I promise). But once I downloaded the rant onto the key board it felt less important to share, rage dissipating into resignation. It’s just about the inevitable disappointment of every single online purchase, especially those that involve self assembly, and the rage that soon follows as each part of each item fails in its own particular way. There are so many more imports things to be enraged by, but somehow this absolute lack of care in production of modern goods leaves me very depressed.

The gnocchi is coming. I was going to make some tonight but my brother Barny is here and making something delicious with fish and coconut so it will have to wait. Again.