When Thor Heyerdahl took his balsa wood raft  Kon Tiki across the Pacific  in 1947, he did it to show that in theory the Polynesian islanders could have originated from mainland South America.   There’s nothing quite like a bit of practical archaeology; personally, I’d have paid more attention to history lessons at school if they had explained the part trade winds and ocean currents played in deciding the course of human history.

When early seafarers set off in search of new lands to conquer, trade, treasure, knowledge, personal glory, or to escape from a crappy life on shore, they faced hazards and took risks that we can only imagine.  No weather forecasts, no accurate charts, no gps, no real idea of how long their journey might be.  But there’s one thing they didn’t have to face – waste.  Even in Thor Heyerdahl’s time, the oceans were still mostly pristine, but the problem of plastic waste in the oceans is a big enough issue now.  How big exactly?  The Great Pacific Garbage Patch, a collection of non-soluble waste gathered together by the relentless motion of the ocean currents, is now almost as big as Europe,  a mess that can be seen from space as a shameful witness to human carelessness.  And there’s one gathering in the Atlantic too.

So what does this have to do with Kon Tiki?  Well, wherever there’s bad news there’s usually hope, and it manifests in many ways.  A handful of American campaigners are taking the lead (after all, the Great Pacific Garbage Patch is off their west coast, and the USA gets through 1500 plastic bottles every second) and one of the latest schemes is the Plastiki expedition – a 60 boat made not  from balsa wood but from 12000 plastic bottles.  Plastiki recently set off from San Francisco to Sydney, by way of the Garbage Patch, to raise awareness of the problem.  The website is www.plastiki.com – it’s a bit mad, with great graphics and a day to day account of the trip, but not much in the way of background information on the reason for the voyage, though there’s a fairly sensible statement on their facebook page.  I’m not sure I’d trust my life to plastic bottles any more than to balsa wood – though at least anything made of plastic will outlast us all.  Good luck to the crew of Plastiki and her mission.  I’m going to give it a mention in my current book, which is gradually taking over my life, brain and studio, and is the reason why I’ve become so focussed on all things marine and ecological lately.  I’m still only on the first chapter there are six more to go; drawing board and table are already piled high with books, sketches, abandoned first drafts and assorted bits of paper.  Family are getting used to me babbling about plankton and ocean trenches instead of having normal conversation over the dinner table.  I will emerge blinking in the sunlight at the beginning of July and talk about something else, that’s a promise!

I haven’t drawn a picture of Plastiki yet, so in the meantime, here’s a krill..  one of the smallest creatures in the ocean that makes a tasty snack for the largest creature on the planet  – the blue whale, who chomps through an impressive 4 tons of these every day.

“A painting”, said a visitor to my studio as he pondered which picture to buy, “is a conversation”.  He chose the one, I guess, that spoke to him most eloquently, and I hope the dialogue is still continuing whenever he looks at it.  It’s true that the most effective paintings are those which leave something for the viewer to do, or leave something to the imagination; one brushstroke is worth a thousand – if it’s the right brushstroke.

I don’t mean that detailed paintings are always dull.  I used to paint ridiculously detailed miniatures after all, and I think they evoked a different kind of dialogue, drawing viewers into another world.  But however well a painting engages the viewer, it’s nothing compared to the Victorian view of art.  I went to a NADFAS lecture on Victorian Narrative Painting by Lizzie Darbyshire, a brilliant revelation on how to ‘read’ Victorian art, paintings which were designed in every detail to reflect and reinforce the values of the day.   Art was big business, and viewers expected to be able to read a painting like a book. 

One example, ‘The London Visitors’, by Tissot, shows a well dressed couple standing on the steps of a London landmark.  So far, so dull.  But the critics of the day were shocked.  The lady, it seemed, was not as ladylike as her appearance suggested. Why?  Because her eyes are staring out of the picture at the viewer, rather than cast down demurely and attending to the guide book her husband is browsing.  Ladies, apparently, did not make eye contact with men.  Her reputation is further tarnished by a small detail in the corner of the painting which we didn’t notice until it was pointed out – a cigar, lit, partly smoked and then thrown down on the step.  This, according to the Victorian mind map, meant only one thing; the lady had been flirting with a stranger.  This is a huge mental leap for us, but perfectly logical for the customs of the times, which dictated that a gentleman does not make approaches to a lady with a cigar in his hand.  Search for ‘London Visitors’ on google images if you want to see for yourself.

Enough of the history lesson, but it’s interesting to see how our visual shorthand has changed over a century.  These days we are as familiar with the icons used on computer screens as the Victorians were with their visual moral messages.  My own paintings usually have to tell a story – book illustrations for one, and cartoons for another.  The style couldn’t be more different from the classical style of Tissot, but I think that our pleasure in a good cartoon is because we can read it like a comedy sketch.  Here’s one I did for Practical Boat Owner a while ago (I can’t show you the latest one because it’s not out yet!)

I can’t remember the caption for this one… and you’d need to read the Dave Selby article it was attached to, but hopefully you get the drift!  Here’s another, more recent, to go with a hilarious article about crossing an ocean with a parsimonious skipper.  I think the caption for this one was ‘Dave would have plenty of time to regret eating that third weetabix’.

I’m so glad I’m not a Victorian artist.  Apart from the inconvenience of all those corsets and dresses, I don’t think I could do ‘demure and laydlike’, and I would so much prefer to make people laugh, or at least smile, than preach moral messages!

February on Planet Claudia has good and bad qualities.  On the one hand it’s still cold enough to wear three layers plus mittens, along with the cloud of guilt permanently hovering at not having started any work on the boat yet, let alone tidying up the garden.  On the plus side, this is the month for my two day singing workshop with Maddy Prior and Abbie Lathe at the fabulous Rhosygilwen concert hall near Cardigan.  At the risk of repeating the content of last year’s blog, there’s something truly inspirational about harmony singing.  Knowing little (well, nothing) about music theory, it’s a mystery to me how three or four parts of a song can come together and produce something that’s bigger and better than all the individual pieces.   

Now I’m as guilty as anyone of watching  tv talent shows occasionally, but they do reinforce the myth that people are either extremely talented or completely hopeless.  In other words, if you’re not Somebody, you’re Nobody.  No wonder the cult of celebrity has young people mesmerised; nobody wants to be themselves anymore, they want to be somebody else.  Somebody prettier, thinner, richer, famous.   Most of us are hungry for song, but few will sing for pleasure; we’d rather stay silent and plug in the ipod.   Whilst nothing beats the joy of listening to professional musicians singing live or on cd, that’s only the part of what music is for.  It’s a revelation to find that everyone’s voice can be coaxed out and improved, with technique and a bit of work.  Even mine.   According to Abbie, it’s about supporting your own voice, silencing the inner critic, and trying to be the best you can be, rather than giving up because you can’t sing like somebody else.  In singing as in life, nobody else can make a success of being you except you.

Oops, that wasn’t meant to be a lecture. 

Learning and teaching are both satisfying experiences.  As well as the regular Wednesday watercolour classes this week, I also helped Chris Stephens deliver a one day workshop to schoolteachers.  It’s not often my skills as artist and maritime historian are both required at the same time, but the content of the workshop was about weaving Welsh culture and heritage into the school curriculum in as many learning styles as possible.  It was a hugely enjoyable day; my main input was a session teaching the teachers about the Tenby lugger by learning how to paint one in watercolour.  Much hilarity followed, but everyone acquitted themselves well, even those unfamiliar with watercolour techniques. 

Why a Tenby lugger?  For one thing, they’re easier to draw than a larger ship such as a schooner or brig, and it’s topical in that the ever valiant and resourceful West Wales Maritime Heritage Society is about to begin restoring the last remaining example of a Tenby lugger in Pembroke Dock.  Have a look at their website www.wwmhs.org.uk to find out more, especially if you have any ideas for fundraising. 

Finally, we’re off to the RYA Volvo Dinghy Show next weekend, so the house is filling up with boxes of  ’stuff’ to take.  It’s an enjoyable show, with a great atmosphere, and we’re looking forward to catching up with everyone.   New for this year will be more jewellery, the new log books and sketch books and of course a new fridge magnet or two!

Mill Bay looking southeast out of the haven

I went to Mill Bay last weekend, a pleasant half hour stroll along the coast path from the car park on St Ann’s Head.  It’s the first cove on the left as you sail into Milford Haven.  The path dips down to the cove where a small valley tips a stream onto a rocky foreshore.  You could land a small boat there, but I’d only attempt it in a very flat calm; negotiating the rocks and finding a flat piece of sand to beach would be tricky.  Perhaps there was more sand in Mill Bay in the 15th century.  Perhaps there was a stone pier.  But it’s still an odd choice, as another half an hour’s sail brings you to the glorious sheltered bay of Dale, which is about as perfect as an anchorage and sheltered landing place could be, and would have saved the would-be monarch from an hour’s tramp along the cliffs.  Apparently he sent some of his ships round to Dale, but he preferred to be put ashore at Mill Bay.  I bet he got his feet wet.

Even more sensible than Dale would have been to save another day’s march and take the tide further upriver, to his birthplace at Pembroke perhaps, or to Milford.  Even if the wind was unfavourable, the tide would have carried the fleet upriver very efficiently.  Perhaps he had a girlfriend on St Ann’s Head.  Perhaps he’d had enough of being afloat and was desperate to get ashore.  Perhaps nobody knows, but if you do, please let me know.  It’s always interesting to look at history from a seafarer’s point of view.

St Anne's Head - design for a postcard of Dale (not quite finished!)

If Henry’s ship’s log was still around, I’d love to see it.  And talking of log books (ouch, what a contrived link!) and with a leap of imagination back into the 21st century, my newly designed Log Books for Little Ships are back from the printers – have a look at www.starfishbooks.co.uk for the details.  When I say the books are back from the printers, what I actually mean is that my studio floor has disappeared under several dozen boxes of pages and covers, so there’s just the small business of collating and binding them.   In the meantime I’m stepping over boxes to get to my drawing board.  Ho hum…

 

and then the most clever bit of all, mixing three bright primaries together and ending up with the softest dappled grey…..

Careful with the red.  Red is a bit of a bully and a little goes a long way.  The secret to a dappled colour is to let the paint mix on the page, don’t stir it into a homogenised gloop on the palette.  Where damp colours touch they’ll do their own thing.  Here’s a one minute seascape…..

How’s that for a very potted colour theory lesson!  Blended greys are so much nicer than tube greys.  If you want to mix some gorgeous dark greys and blacks, try cadmium red plus winsor blue or burnt sienna plus ultramarine.  Too brown?  Add more blue.  Too grey?  Add more red.

Good things about being snowed in…… the village is muffled in silence and beautiful.  The path through the woods looks like a scene from The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe.    Strangers out for walks are chattier than usual.  Can’t go very far so getting plenty of work done.

Bad things about being snowed in…… trying to type or draw with gloves on.  Not being able to drive anywhere.  Remembering what sailing in the sunshine is like – but only just.  Wondering if I’m going to make it to the introductory session of my watercolour classes in Haverfordwest tomorrow – probably not unless there’s a sudden thaw. 

just don't expect me to drive anywhere...!

Nice things about Christmas:  Being able to have a glass of wine at lunchtime without feeling guilty.  Jigsaws and mince pies and walks on the beach.  Listening to sublime singing in a tiny church by candlelight (ancient Welsh carols sung unaccompanied by a raven haired young vicaress, but that’s another story….).  Things I don’t like about Christmas:  Too much chocolate.  Icy weather.  Feeling guilty because for the first time ever I didn’t send Christmas cards this year.  Trying to get back into work mode again afterwards.  I’m easing back into it again gently by sorting out paperwork and filing today, which always leaves me with a table full of bits of paper that don’t fit anywhere, books of raffle tickets I never got round to buying and  letters I never replied to.

The next task is to give some thought to teaching, with two new classes starting next week at Haverfordwest.  My family are working towards getting me to do some video demonstrations to put on the website.  Hey, I’m only just getting my head round keeping a blog, but I’ll give it a go.  Soon.  If we can get the technology right.  One thing I like to do in teaching is debunk the myth that talent is all.   You may have it or you may not, but without hard work and technique, you’ll get nowhere.    Talent is the cherry on the cake, but without the hard work, there’s no cake.  Quick-result talent shows on tv fascinate us because they seem to imply that it’s all about talent, and there’s no need to do the hard work.  We don’t really want to be reminded that there’s a long road to travel when we’re so focussed on the destination!

Finally…. I’m going ahead with the sketch book idea talked about many blogs ago…. here’s the revised front cover:

A5 spiral bound sketch book – with drawing tips!  Available March

I’m not very good at winters.  From September onwards I wear so many layers of clothes that getting dressed in the morning takes ages, but I’m still permanently cold.  Bracing walks after a day at the drawing board are out of the question because it’s gone dark by then – and is usually raining too.  And I’m one of those grumpy people who hates any mention of  Christmas before December and I shout at the radio when they wheel out the cheesy Christmas pop songs.  I’m either turning into a grumpy old woman or I’m just a bit short of sunlight and vitamin D!

But now it’s mid December I’ll admit it, Christmas is imminent.  I can tell because I spend most of the time doing a wide variety of bits and pieces instead of getting stuck in to one big project.   There are Christmas commissions (this week including a wooden name plaque for a boat, a portrait of a Dunkirk Little Ship, and a sketch of a pilot cutter), as well as stocking up galleries and helping Perry sort out online orders.  Talking of  Christmas galleries, here’s a reminder to all you east coast dwellers to visit that unique emporium of all things nautical, Salty Dogs, brainchild of the inimitable Den Phillips.  This year it’s at 57 High Street Maldon so pop in if you get a chance; it just gets better each year.  Another east coast gallery I’m topping up for Christmas is the delightful Sea Pictures Gallery in Clare, Suffolk – not near the sea but that means all the more reason to buy seascapes!  Meanwhile, back here on the west coast I nipped over to Cardigan today to drop some work in at Frame byFrame, run by the inspirational Chloe and Emma. 

After new year I’ll change hats and be an illustrator again, but for the moment it’s good to make more space in the studio and get stuff out there.  Actually, in January I’ll also have my tutor’s hat back on as I’ve a full two classes of keen students waiting for me on a wednesday in Haverfordwest.  Great fun.

The image  above is called  ‘Silent Night’ and it’s one of the Christmas cards I designed for the Nancy Blackett Trust (www.nancyblackett.org).  Unsurprisingly, I don’t do winter sailing, but I know there are those that do!  Which reminds me, good luck to Geoff Holt setting off on his Atlantic Challenge today.  The lengths some people will go to to get some sunshine….. (www.geoffholt.com)

Now here’s a thing – I’ve never knitted and never will, having no affinity at all with anything that requires needles, whether knitting or sewing.  At school I was thrown out of the domestic science sewing class because I was so hopeless, and sent to do Latin instead.  Believe me, Latin was a doddle by comparison. But I do admire the colours and fabrics and textures of all sorts of wearable art, and love the idea of it.  A knitter called Brenda Dayne came to my studio exhibition last week and I discovered that she’s also a very skilled journalist and broadcaster.  She interviewed me and also fellow artist Linda Norris about our approach to art, to include in her series of podcasts on the theme of events and people within a 20 mile radius of her home.  Have a listen on www.cast-on.com – I don’t think it’s compulsory to be knitting whilst you listen!

I thought it was interesting that knitters cast on to begin their journey and sailors cast off.  All is connected….