What if ? Learning to beat self doubt.

Feelings of  'not being good enough', and self doubt run very deep. They've plagued me my whole life.  I constantly seek approval and validation from other people. Does this sound familiar? I'm guessing from many conversations I've had that it rings a bell with a lot of you. 

Those of us who are artists and artisans are putting a little bit of ourselves out there every time we share our work, and that can be incredibly hard.  Others long to be creative, but don't feel they can because, 'I can't (draw, paint, sew, sculpt, write, etc... ) that's for other people'.  I've lost count of the times I've heard his from people who come to my classes. Honestly, I get such a buzz when they find out that they can! Supporting and encouraging other people is pure joy. Supporting and encouraging myself, however, is not! 

 Over the years I've made so many half-hearted attempts to 'do something ' about my own nagging self doubt.  I've read so many self help books, visited dozens of websites and listened to more podcasts than you can count!   I get confident for a while but then something happens which knocks me back and makes me feel that 'I can't'.  It could be something as simple as my post not getting what I have deemed 'enough' 'likes' on social media, in order to make me feel like a worthwhile human being! Crazy, but true!

It's our real fear of  'the bad things',  (duh , duh, duh) that we might face rejection, disapproval,  not being liked, etc,  that holds us back.

Let's get this in perspective - I might face 'the bad things', but I might not. If I did, what would be the worst that could happen? If someone disapproves, or decides they don't like me or what I do, that's their right.  However much I  may wish it wasn't so, not everybody is going to like me, or my art. Actually, though, I only want to share my creative world with people who 'get' me, like and appreciate what I do, so is it really any loss? 

If I'm rejected, I can see it as a learning opportunity and try a different direction or approach.  Again, what I do won't not appeal to everyone, and that's  okay. I'm still going to freak out sometimes, because I'm human, but that's fine too. 

If any of this this resonates with you, whether as an artist,  a creative, (or just personally, in terms of life the universe, and everything)  then I invite you join me on my journey.

I'm beginning the year spending some time looking back over the last one.  If you think this might be helpful for you,  then please take some time to think about what you achieved - and what you wanted to do, but didn't, because you were afraid to.

I'm going to  look at:

How and why I reacted to my new situation in the way I did.   
What I can learn from my achievements  - what worked and why was it successful? 
What things didn't pan out as I hoped?  Why did that happen and how could I have done things differently?    

It's time to try to make the most of future opportunities, instead of hiding under the table,  and  changing  'I can't' to -

'What if '?  

I know I'm not alone. 

What do you want to achieve?  It can be anything at all,  but, if it's a lack of faith in yourself and your capabilities which is stopping you, let's talk about it. Or, if you've managed to conquer your fear, what's helped you deal with it?

We can work on self doubt and give 'the bad things' a good bashing. Let 2018 be the year you say  'What if'? Then try! 

I wish you all  good things in this New Year!

Nature journaling - on a former landfill site!

Almost 10 years ago I had to move from a tranquil spot in the Gloucestershire countryside to live on the outer edge of a city. Culture shock was immediate, traffic, people everywhere - and so much noise! Accustomed to roaming through fields, bluebell filled woodland and past gentle streams,  I felt bereft. Desperate to find green space, I had to explore!

We live on the floodplain of the River Severn. Behind our home appeared to be an area of waste ground, close to the industrial site of Avonmouth, and adjacent to a roaring stretch of the M5 motorway.  I was told the area was a landfill site until 1988! Despite this not being the most appealing idea, my natural nosiness got the better of me.  I followed the decommissioned tarmacked road,  past fly tipped rubbish, and found, to my delight, a wealth of nature. 

This site, (now renamed Saltmarsh Drive Open Space) is indeed, old salt marsh. It's crossed by drainage ditches called rhines (pronounced rheen). Some of these watercourses date back to the medieval period. The Merebank Rhine, is actually a Scheduled Ancient Monument!

A few quick sketches managed this week!

The watercourses, and the scrub land surrounding them are a magnet for wildlife, and the soil of the former landfill site has allowed a unique diversity of plant life to emerge, including  stunning wild orchids.

This is one of the few places in Bristol which is home to the delightful water vole. 'Ratty' from The Wind in the Willows. A common sight in my childhood, spotting one is now rare - and a thrill. Otters have also been observed using the rhines.


Small groups of our shy native roe deer frequent the scrub, and  kingfisher and heron are regular visitors to the waterways. There's a wealth of bird life, ruled over by the resident buzzards, who soar above like miniature golden eagles.

 My journaling has changed  a lot in the last 3 years!

No one visits here much. There is litter from the motorway, and strange items which pop up from the landfill. Dog mess, ignored by careless owners, is a hazard; and tuning out the noise from the busy motorway, (and sometimes off road motor cyclists) is a necessity.

Nature, however, ignores these minor irritations; she goes about her work, making this unlikely spot a very special place indeed.

Nature's memories

What's your earliest memory?
Most of my vivid childhood memories have a strong connection to the natural world.

The first thing I clearly remember, aged almost 2, was toddling up to our front door and seeing a huge, dark shadow on the glass window. We were snowed in. I remember being lifted up to see the white world outside, and being not scared, but excited, at how the world had changed.

And  I remember from childhood:

Watching the blue tits pecking the milk bottle tops to feast on cream!
Feeding the hedgehogs who visited our garden.
Excitedly looking for the first golden cowslips which bloomed in the field next door each spring.
Walking along (the beautifully named) 'Frog Furlong Lane' with mum and the 'helicopters' on the sycamore trees.
Looking for 'Walter' wagtail , who loved to catch insects in our yard.
Hearing the cuckoo calling.
Writing on laurel leaves with a rose thorn.
Hanging up a piece of seaweed outside after a trip to the coast, to tell what the weather would be!
The taste of ripe blackberries.
The wonderful scent of the sweet peas mum planted every year.
Being absolutely terrified that tigers would leap out from the shadows and eat me, as dad drove us along narrow, shadowy, wooded lanes on our family outings (thanks, big brother John! I never, ever told mum and dad though .... )

These very ordinary things had a huge impact on my life, and how I view the world. I  really hope that  the newest generation will enjoy similar memories.

The trouble with lichen....

There isn't any.  I just love the title of that book.

They're strange, beautiful, fascinating fungi. A couple of weeks ago my friend Liane and I braved the February squelching and met up with a party of other Lichen lovers on Bristol's famous Downs. You would never imagine there being so much laughter from a group of thoroughly wet, cold people. Lichen seems to attract  rather jolly people!

I  finally managed to document the fallen samples I found in my nature journal ( they'll now be returned to their natural habitat!)  There was  endless aggravation  fun, trying to draw them whilst focusing through  my new hand lens. I won't be trying that again, but it is amazing to get such a wonderful visual perspective.

These are just my interpretations, (sans hand lens) of some stunning forms and textures; and here's a few photos of these little beauties.

Thanks to Avon Wildlife Trust  members, who arranged this event, and local expert Sheila Quin, who led the walk. I learnt a lot and it was worth getting wet feet!  We followed The Downs Lichen Trail.

But how do you keep a Nature Journal in Britain, in the winter?

Now, I'm a very seasonal person. Following and recording the natural cycle of the year, and its changes, is a joy.  Britain, though, through winter, can be a challenge.  Sometimes, as I stand battling the wind and drizzle, with my boots squelching merrily in the mud,  I can understand why more people don't  journal outdoors! The rewards, however are enormous. Winter is a fantastic time for observation.

It pays to be prepared with lots of layers. (Although sometimes you can't move your arms much!) Good boots and socks for dry feet are a must, too. My fab hat and scarf were designed and created for me by my friend, the artist Palma Rea.

Sometimes though, our great British weather defeats me, but there's always something to pick up,  bring home, and draw in the nice warm studio (with a hot cup of tea alongside!)

Or  I can have a comfortable, reference sketching session at Bristol Museum and Art Gallery

Many of my entries are just quick sketches and observation notes, watching the garden wildlife from of our second story window. This week Attila, (our resident marauding grey squirrel) has broken his third feeder in three weeks and cached almost 2 kilos of peanuts! Last seen rolling himself across the grass with a huge grin on his face....

 

If all else fails, there's always use personal photos for reference. Needing a little lift this week, snowdrops from the Kings Weston Estate were called for. 

As much as  I love winter, I won't be sad to see some more bright days over the next few weeks,  and a little less mud!

Exploring nature in 2017

Good Morning 2017!

 'Explore'

This is the word I've chosen to guide me through the year. I've lots of  new avenues to find my way along, and opportunities which seem quite daunting, and not a little terrifying.

This year, I want to delve deeper and look closer into nature, and capture even more beautiful and wonderful things. Like the bark of these wonderful 300 year old yew trees.

 

The Universe must be doing it's stuff; because I've had a beautiful and unexpected gift  from my niecelet - which is a pretty perfect fit.