Creative space & seasonal shifts

A new feel to my creative space

Welcome to my wee corner of Substack. I am a seasonal artist living on the Isle of Arran, off the west coast of Scotland. I am the custodian of approximately two acres of land that includes a woodland, a meadow and my wee garden. I offer a seasonal book arts project for paid subscribers if you are interested and you can read more about that HERE. Grab a cuppa and lets delve into our relationship with the shifting seasons…

In so many ways the seasonal ritual of changing my creative space is as important as breathing in and out. I do, in fact, exhale fully once I have shifted the space to reflect the coming season. I write about seasonal rituals a fair bit on this platform as a way of preparing the mind for creative change. Sometimes the change in my space takes minutes, sometimes hours but it is always worth it. I am a huge fan of a cup of tea AFTER something that has shifted me. It is another ritual that gives me space to look and see what I have done. I move fairly intuitively resisting any chance to over think. This seasonal shift focused on the scroll book I made with some of you in our first book arts project in my paid subscription. I love all the books I make but this one has a very special place in my heart. It was the first on a new journey that has proved to be important but it also took me back to a time before me when scrolls were the first books produced. I loved the simplicity of this design and I loved the way it reveals itself through time.

So that was my starting point and then it is a matter of wandering around my home gathering. I will be adding to this new space with flowers as they appear in the garden but for now I included some dried rose petals from last year. The fabric snippet roll was completed a few years ago but speaks well to the rest, I feel. It was only when drinking my tea that I realised what I had done. I had curated a space that spoke of ‘slowing down’ as many of the creative elements such as weaving, flower pressing and stitching can only be done slowly. Even my late grandfather’s handmade solitare is a slow activity for me and one that I do often as I find it helps to organise my thinking.

Some might wonder why slowing down is atuned to summer for me rather than, for example, winter. I am one of those folk that struggles in the heat of the summer finding that it saps my energy so, over the years, I have learnt to pace my summer. That pace is slow and mindful and cool and so I instinctively reached for things that would support that outcome.

I also felt that there was a rose theme coming through and this spoke to me from work I have previously done during the summer months. I work a lot with rose petals in my Etsy store and I grow a lot as a result. I plant a rose when I lose someone dear to me… With my Patreon community we are spending the summer connecting with our inner artist to bring out a sense of celebration. We are creating our inner artist seeds in a zoom class this weekend and guess what is in my seed…..a rose. So, when sipping my tea all these things start to make perfect sense to me and I am armed with a strong sense of the next seasonal work. As the season unfolds it will, no doubt, take me off in other directions but a sense of ‘blooming’ remains my core direction. In my book arts paid subscription here on Substack we will be bearing witness to a local hedgerow blooming, recording it and then printing from it.

I over use a phrase ‘getting my ducks in a row’ but it is important to have a sense of purpose and direction but, at the same time, be open to shifts in our creative work. It is the balance between the two that helps me keep my work and teaching fresh while maintaining a sense of progression. All this begins with clearing a space, getting a duster out and off I go. It is to be recommended.

Until next time,

Fiona xx

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