Artistic people have the knack of making ordinary things beautiful.  Last week I went to a concert in Goodwick, at a church overlooking the bay.  It was an overcast evening, grey light on a grey sea and the breakwater cutting across the centre of the bay.  There was half an hour before the concert started and Elizabeth Haines (www.elizabethhaines.co.uk) was sketching the view.  Through her eyes and hand, the dull expanse of bay came alive in a swirling pencil sketch of subtle tones.  Half an hour later and the same alchemy was happening through the voice of baritone Richard Parry (www.dramaticsongrecital.co.uk) as he acted and sang his way through the cleverly composed musical drama ‘An Act of Piracy’.  Wonderful – he could have sung a shopping list and it would have sounded good.  It’s always a challenge to try and sketch moving figures, especially when they’re singing and acting,  but it’s fun to try – after all, I need the practice!  With apologies to Richard who is much better looking in the flesh that he is in my sketchbook.

Meanwhile, back in the studio:

Some people have bad hair days.  Illustrators have bad pencil days.  Sometimes I forget how to draw, which is rather inconvenient.  I looked at yesterday’s drawings and two, possibly three of them needed doing again.  There’s no excuse; sometimes you just know that pencil, hand and eye haven’t quite made the connection.  When this happens I doggedly finish the drawing, ignoring the voice in my head telling me not to bother as it’s going to end up in the bin.  This was the version I tried to persuade myself would do:

It won’t, of course.  You’ll have spotted that the arms are too long for a start and it just lacks a certain something.  In the bin it went, and I returned to the original reference sketch (drawn from a photo of James modelling for me, somewhat reluctantly).   Second attempt – that’s better.    In case you were wondering, the illustration is for a page about marine scientists conducting research.  Caption is: ‘Right, now the next question…..’

 Ah well, life’s a journey.  On my headstone I want the words “Bother, I was just getting the hang of it!”

It’s hard not to take weather personally.  I know it’s pure coincidence that June’s hot spell lasted long enough to get ‘Torhilda’ painted, varnished and slipped gently back into the wet stuff at Llanion boatyard.  She had just settled prettily on her new mooring when the first low pressure system of the summer revved up over the Atlantic and swooped, wet and windy, accompanied by all its gale-infested little friends.  Trip to North Cornwall – cancelled.  Charts and tide tables put to one side.  Perhaps August will be brighter, we say, ever hopeful.   Why do we have a hobby that takes all our available cash and time and that we hardly ever get to do?  That’s a rhetorical question, as any boat owner will tell you. 

Living in a house looking at the forecast on the internet makes you cautious, but if your boat is also your home, you take the weather in your stride.  In the days when I lived on board my 24′ gaff cutter, it was a lot easier to get on with in and not spend too much time fretting over isobars.  I recall a windy trip up channel in ‘Kitty’ one year, coming back from the festival of sail in Brest and setting off from Weymouth, more or less happily, with a force 9 blowing.  Not as mad as it sounds, as the wind was behind us, it was a short coastal hop and the gale was due to ease by the time we got into the shelter of the Solent.    Dealing with rough weather when you’ve already got your sealegs is much easier than sitting indoors with the wind rattling the windows and deciding that you can’t possibly sail today because the ironing needs doing. 

Which is why I’m always fascinated and impressed by that rare breed of sailors who deliberately put themselves in the worst conditions that the oceans can throw at them – offshore racing, especially singlehanded, is as tough as sailing gets and a stark contrast to the gin and tonic pottering about that most of us do.  Sailors like Mike Golding find the extreme conditions of the southern ocean as beautiful and compelling as they are challenging.  My current book (the one everyone wishes I’d get on and finish so I stop going on about it) features a double page spread of Mike’s views on the southern ocean, a humbling and valuable perspective on one of the last true wild places on earth.  I wanted to do a picture of ‘Ecover’, Mike’s Open 60, romping over the waves, albatross in attendance.  It took a few attempts but I got there in the end. 

Back to my world of reading, drawing, researching, writing, singing and dreaming about the sea in all its forms.  Perhaps I should throw buckets of cold water over my head for more authenticity… or go sailing more often, perhaps.   I’ll work on it.

My studio table and floor is disappearing under pieces of paper and chapter five is well under way.  Writing and illustrating a book has its own pace and momentum; you have to keep a part of your brain connected to it or it’s hard to pick up the threads again.  On the other hand, twelve hours at the drawing board (including umpteen cups of tea, hanging out washing, raids on the kitchen and periodic dips into facebook of course) are about as much as I can manage.  As well as being immersed in all things to do with rivers, lakes and reservoirs, the first few chapters are now coming back from the typesetters for editing.  I have an ambiguous view of seeing the proofs, my haphazard layouts transformed into professional looking pages.  Just don’t ask me if it’s any good or not, I haven’t a clue!  Encouraging phrases from publisher and consulting editor ping into my inbox from time to time, so I’m assuming I’m on the right lines. 

Here’s my take on how salmon are able to find their way home from the Atlantic to their home river:  Caption is ‘Right, what’s our postcode?’

Meanwhile, my Wednesday art class has a few weeks to go until the end of term so we’re spending time drawing outdoors for the last few lessons.  This week a good time was had by all in Sandy Haven.  Everyone says they find sketching from life daunting, but the results were so much fresher than labouring to copy a photo, in spite of challenges like the strong breeze and bright sunlight.  Mike had an unusual obstacle to overcome whilst sitting sketching a bank of wild daisies.  A family of six came and sat between him and his scene, laid out a rug and had a picnic, obscuring his view without appearing to notice he was there.  That’s a marvel in itself; Mike is a tall and imposing presence and had never experienced total invisibility before.  Challenges aside, a good time was had by all -  call me single minded but you can never do enough drawing.   Sketching, after all, is just thinking with a pencil.

That’s enough – brain is not firing on all cylinders tonight, must have used up today’s store of wit and creativity in silly salmon cartoons and duck jokes.  Glass of wine, anyone?

‘Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain’.

Many blogs ago I mentioned our friend Ken Roberts who was setting off on a solo round the world cycle ride.  We’re still following Ken’s progress on www.acrosscontinents.org and his blogs are becoming more perceptive and fascinating all the time.  At the moment, on the brink of entering China, he has been visiting countries that most of us have never heard of or, if we have heard of them, have no idea where they are.   Many of them are torn apart by political corruption or civil unrest; none of them feature in holiday brochures, and most of them end in ’stan.  Through the middle of all of this pedals a lone Englishman, wrestling with visas and bureaucracy, unreadable roadsigns, unkept roads and extreme temperatures.  What it most striking, though, is not the expected obstacles that he faces, but the kindness of strangers.  Wherever he goes people feed him and ask no payment, help him out, offer hospitality.  Ken talks in his blog about the ‘many individual acts of generosity, the extent unimaginable in supposedly more developed nations ‘.  It gives you faith that humanity, one to one, has a connection and warmth that goes beyond nationality or language and belies the world view that the newspapers would have us believe, that the world outside our garden gate is a dodgy place.    Perhaps it confirms the view that life is a mirror to your attitudes; if you expect strangers to be friendly, they will be.  If you expect fear and hostility, that’s what you’ll get. 

Anyway, the blog is worth a look.  It also makes me realise how quickly we have come to take worldwide internet connection for granted; a few years ago we’d have had to make do with the occasional postcard.  It will be interesting to see how far the regular updates continue once Ken is in deepest China.

I think I become more interested in other people’s travels when my own adventures are mental rather than physical.  Yes, I’m still totally immersed in my RYA marine conservation book, which for a butterfly brain like mine is a major struggle.  More than halfway through now, just finished the chapter on coasts and beaches, so next up is rivers and lakes.  Apologies to all my facebook friends who have to put up with my regular rants when I get stuck and need to let off steam.  The next month or so will see the bulk of the work done, after which I am looking forward to a few days’ sailing, if the weather lets us and if I can remember how!   I did enjoy researching rockpools, though.  New knowledge makes you look at everything with fresh and more appreciative eyes.

Several days of thinking ‘must update my blog’ usually pass before I get round to it.  The plan is always to sit down in the evening with a clear head and a glass of wine and get inspired.  This rarely happens.  The glass of wine always happens, but not the clear head, or even the inspiration.  Today I’ve been wrestling with the current page of my book about the oceans; trying to find a fun way to put across the problems of over-fishing and the environmental impact is taxing to say the least.  I did do a sketch of a fish in a tutu – the fairy cod-mother – well, it’s a start. 

I also had a slight diversion from the task in hand which was rather enjoyable, in the form of a phone call from Julia Jones in Essex, skipper and owner of Arthur Ransome’s original ‘Peter Duck’ ketch amongst many other talents.  Would I be interested in producing an image for the cover of her forthcoming novel ‘The Salt Stained Book’?    I do love a commission that’s just up my creek!  First of course I needed to read the book – this was no hardship as it’s a great story, a modern and quite edgy version of ‘Swallows and Amazons’.  I’m still working on the design, but there’s more about Julia and her various doings on www.golden-duck.co.uk.

More distraction from the business of getting Chapter Two done came my way on Friday as I was booked for an afternoon drawing lesson with the U3A group in Neyland.  It’s always great fun teaching at U3A; everyone speaks their mind and is very up front about what they want to learn. Usually my prepared lesson descends into happy chaos and I just go with the flow.  This was no exception and turned into a bit of a rant about the reason for wanting to draw in the first place – as a means of connecting to somewhere special, spending time, taking the trouble to look properly.  Contrary to what the tv would have us believe, not everthing in life is a competition; we would always like to improve the way we do things, but sketching is a personal process not open to criticism.  Do enough of it and it will get better all by itself.  Life is too short to be frozen into inactivity by the fear of not being good enough!

Here’s my own sketch of a sunlit moment on East Trewent Head on Sunday, when I decided that I’d had enough of writing about the sea and trying to draw it when I hadn ‘t actually been to look at it for months…..

The left side of the page hasn’t scanned as well as the right….. use your imagination!

That’ll do for now… there’s half a glass of wine left and I’m listening to ‘Pentangle’ on cd while the family are involved in something noisy and American on tv in the other room.

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.

As an artist, I would rather draw a face with character than a mask of perfection.  (The fact that I’m not very good at drawing faces is beside the point – this is a philosophical ramble but don’t worry, I’ll keep it brief!)

There was a piece on the radio recently about a new dating agency for beautiful people only.  In fact there are several – one of them has a long list of banned features, including non-symmetrical faces or bodies, big noses, and wearing out of date fashions. So you can be a cold hearted inarticulate bitch with an ego the size of Milton Keynes as long as you have white even teeth and no centre parting.  Hmmm.  Perhaps the word beauty needs redefining.  A shift of emphasis away from the outer to inner beauty would not go amiss.  Years ago I was told a story of a wise man who asked his student what qualities she would like to see more of in the world.  “Respect, courtesy, humanity, warmth, generosity of spirit, that kind of thing”, she said.  “Well then”, came the reply.  “Put them there!”

Enough rambling, back to wrestling with chapter three – all about coastlines, harbours and rockpools.   I wonder if sea squirts think all other sea squirts are beautiful…… I’m sure they do.

I’m finally getting my teeth into the next  RYA book; it always takes a while to find the way in to a new subject, but once I get my brain engaged it tends to take over.  The studio is filling up with piles of books and notes and I’m starting to think about chapter headings in the shower.  But it’s hard to go for total immersion in a subject at this time of year when there are Christmas exhibitions to get ready for and I should be making stuff.  Half finished projects sit  reproachfully in heaps on my studio table.

So what’s the new book about?  It’s about the oceans, ecology, sailing cleanly, wildlife, geography, beachcombing, not polluting rivers and seas…. presented in a way that will grab children’s attention.  Fascinating but challenging.  It’s taking me a while to get the structure of it sorted out in a logical way, with the encouraging and tactful support of Susie Tomson, my editor and the inspiration behind the Green Blue.  Just don’t ask me what the title is – several suggestions are floating round between all concerned so when the dust has settled I’ll let you know.  I’m on version four of the cover design so far and think I’m getting close!

Meanwhile, did you know that the second largest fish in the world is the basking shark – and it can be seen in UK waters?  Or that over a million birds die every year from entanglement or ingestion of rubbish?  Food for thought.

Oh, and the plankton?  They provide 50% of the world’s oxygen, that’s all…….  something to consider next time you swallow a mouthful of seawater!

I didn’t make my long suffering art students draw without looking this week – I took in a series of objects for them to draw and tried to get to to look, really look hard, before committing to paper.  We were also looking at measured drawing, which means that holding your pencil at arm’s length and squinting at an object is not just an arty pose, you’re actually comparing sizes so you can get the drawing in proportion.  There’s a constant questioning going on in your head while you’re drawing

sketch book front cover

; “this part is longer than this bit, which starts about here…. this section is about a third of the size of that bit, and the width is just a bit less than the height……”, that sort of thing.  It’s surprising how easily your eyes are deceived.  If you get a chance, get hold of a book called Incredible Visual Illusions by Al Seckel, which proves how what we think we see may not be what we actually see……. if you get my drift.

What’s on the drawing board at the moment?  I decided to design a sketchbook with fun hints on how to draw.  Well, everyone needs a sketchbook, don’t they.  (yes!)  Here’s the front cover; there’s more of the same on the back…..

I used to think that being an author was very glamorous, involving signing books for a queue of adoring fans.  For most of us, of course, it’s not quite like that.  You can forget the queues of adoring fans, for a start.  If you’re very lucky,  you look up from reading this month’s Practical Boat Owner to find a nine your old gazing intently at you from in front of your table.  “Read these already”, she announces and moves on.  No, the delight of book signing at the London Boat Show is the chance to chat to the other authors (proper ones like Sam Llewellyn and Tom Cunliffe) and enjoy a first class gin and tonic just at the time of day when spirits are beginning to flag.  Then there’s time to stroll around the show catching up with old friends and filling up on lukewarm fizzy wine drunk out of plastic cups.  Nothing like it….. anyway,  I’ll be on the Kelvin Hughes stand at Excel during the first weekend of the boat show if you’re passing that way, so come and say hello.

In the meantime, I’ve been working on my regular PBO cartoon for the  Dave Selby column which is always hilarious.  This time I’m trying to think of a funny connection between tea drinking and small boat rallies…… storm in a teacup perhaps?  Or more typhoo that typhoon……. you’ll have to buy the next issue (or is the one after next?) to find out.

My son tells me I should be including images in this blog not just words, so I’ll try and do better next time.