The adventure begins...

The joys and perils of drawing outdoors

I never quite know what is going to happen when I go out drawing, and it is partly the uncertainty and unpredictability of venturing out that always makes it feel like an adventure.

Today was one of those days. The forecast suggested the low possibility of a storm later in the afternoon and so I ventured out and nestled down, hidden from view by an old gorse hedge, and set about drawing on old friend, a fallen oak that contorts across the mossy ground like an sleeping dragon.

But no sooner had I started than I spotted this huge and hairy caterpillar of the Fox moth, crawling along by my chair (and I confess I am easily distracted by bugs and creatures.) I feared I might accidentally squash him, so I moved him into the safe arms of the tree and soon became absorbed by drawing again.

I chose a small section of the tree, as I knew time was limited, choosing charcoal and Unison soft pastels, time slipping by as I traced the limbs, covered in lichen and backed by more old gorse.

Wortham Ling, where I often go to draw, is an extraordinary place and only a few minutes away. It is predominantly heathland, close cropped by rabbits, with stunted oaks and hawthorn, and covered in cyclamen heather from August onwards, hence its name “ling,” which means heather. But what I love especially are the ancient, well worn paths that lace the Ling. Formerly common land, the residents of the skirting cottages had the right to cut turf of 10 inches square for fuel ( the craters can still be seen) and gorse too was gathered for firewood. There are also the remains of long abandoned huts and washing line poles and though today the paths are used by dog walkers, there always feels a strong sense of its former residents.

Sarah Bush, carrying home faggots, of Louse Lane, Wortham*

As I sat drawing, I was oblivious of the dark clouds gathering behind me. A sudden clap of thunder woke me up, but assured by the forecast that I had a while longer, I continued. That was a foolish move. Suddenly, the rain fell in stair rods, and I had to quickly gather everything up and run for it. But no matter, I had had my day’s adventure.

Something to help you remember the experience of drawing:

Alongside my drawings, I like to make notes to help remind me of the experience when I return to the studio. I note down the bugs that crawled across my page, the birds that I encounter or hear, even snatches of conversation as dog walkers go past, who are often oblivious to my presence (though the dogs rarely are.) I note down the weather conditions, the scent of the gorse or wild honeysuckle, anything that will help me recollect that day. It need only be a couple of sentences, but I highly recommend it as a way to help hold the memory if you want to develop the sketches at a later date

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Something to listen to:

The Stubborn Light of Things - Melissa Harrison

During lockdown, this podcast was a great solace. Unable to venture out and draw along the lanes and field margins, Melissa Harrison provided the perfect compensation for that sorely felt loss. Based in Suffolk, so close to home, her descriptions of what was happening in the countryside were balm to the soul. Here you can find all of those episodes and a new, recently recorded, bonus episode from the Green Man Festival.

Something to read:

Sarn Helen by Tom Bullough

I bought this on a recent visit to Pembrokeshire, attracted by the beautiful cover painting of a curlew by Jackie Morris. I imagined it to be a travelogue, which indeed it is in part, as Bullough travels along Sarn Helen, the Roman road that runs the length of Wales. But it is much more than this, as each section is intercut with interviews with writers and scientists about the impact of climate change. The focus is on Wales, but the message is for all of us. It is deeply moving and explains the crisis in language that is both accessible and pressing.

Thank you for taking time to read this, and for supporting my work, and I look to seeing you again in a couple of weeks.

*From “The Biography of a Victorian Village, Rev Richard Cobbold’s account of Wortham, Suffolk , 1860”, edited by Ronald Fletcher.