slowly slowly a studio is emerging.....

a little like the waking tortoiseshells in my previous post things are slowly coming together with my new studio space. they had to get a lot worse before they could get better. in january water started to come up through the floor and having chipped up most of the lino tiles and stripped everything back to a bare shell i could begin to see the source of the problems - always a risk when you delve deep behind years of remedial bodging - that you will discover things you didn't want to find!

february has been a crash course in damp. i've spoken to lots of people about damp, read all about damp, picked my way through many conflicting opinions and sought out a couple of damp experts. my biggest hurdle has been knowing whose advice to follow. i now understand a lot about traditional building materials, techniques, breathability and ventilation. i also understand the basic principles of modern building. the problem is when the two collide and there is a bit of both. i have a traditional granite wall but a thin and badly cast floor of concrete laid on bare earth. under the window bays i dug out sack after sack of damp earth and on one side hit concrete. the other side i just continued to dig and realised there had once been floorboards laid onto bare earth! they crumbled to dust as i tried to pull them up. now i have an indoor garden!

i have also realised that i do not find most builders very helpful. i have an idea of what i want to achieve and run it by a builder and am hit by a wall of nos, 'oh no you can't do that..... NO..... this is what you want to do'. and when i ask why not i'm told that that's just not how it's done. full stop. but slowly i'm weeding out my type of builder. that is a builder/artist. someone who knows about materials and how they work. someone who can think beyond the bounds and conventions of the building trade. i've been fortunate enough to meet a brilliant guy who is a builder but studied fine art sculpture. he was apprenticed to a builder (his dad) at 16 and went on to cast full size people (mostly himself) using building materials - concrete, bricks and resin in his work. i ran lots of my ideas by him and he said YES..... of course you can do that if you want to. at last i had found someone i could trust to chop out and rebuild the bottom section of my wall where the timbers had also been laid onto bare earth. this was a job i didn't want to do as it involved acro-props and maintaining the structural integrity of the building. fortunately it transpired that the wall everyone had told me was load bearing (after i'd already sawn out a big section !!) actually wasn't taking much weight after all (phew!)

daylight under the wall!

a structural engineer's nightmare

i've also had great advice from a friend who is a timber framer. he favours traditional methods and natural materials and has a sculptor's approach to building. like me, he doesn't like plastic and chemicals  or thinks that it's necessary to use them. another friend is a lime plasterer and artist. he has introduced me to the cornish lime company who are passionate about reviving lime as a building material and dedicated to informing people about its benefits. they provide clear information on the different types and uses of lime, natural paint and finishes and much more.

i am committed to using sustainable, natural and recycled materials. i only want to give my money to companies who are not causing environmental damage. i do not want to fill my space with products that leach chemicals into the atmosphere. this mean putting a little more thought and research into things. and everything takes a little longer. but it's totally worth it.

so now with enthusiastic advice from the builder/sculptor i've started to take the ceiling down. this involves getting filthy - years of dust and soot and soil - MORE soil!! just how does that much soil get above a ceiling?! when i unblocked the fire place i ended up with a huge pile of granite and 55 sacks of sooty soil. i weighed one bag and estimated over a tonne of soil. the granite was claimed on free-cycle. the small and medium pieces went to a woman who is building a little wall around her pond. the large and extra large-too-heavy-for-me-to-lift-off-the-ground pieces have found a new home with an archeologist who is building a fire pit in his garden. it must be a big one!

so, onwards with the ceiling. the small joy of embarking upon this task is the knowledge that, within the main area, when this is done there really is nothing else i can possibly take out without demolishing the building itself! and amidst the dust and grime there are funny moments. balanced on the top rung of the ladder i levered a big piece of plasterboard off on three sides, closed my eyes as the layers of dust and soil slid past my head. i looked up thinking there was still more to come and was actually hit on the head by a porn magazine! that must have been stashed away beneath the floorboor boards for a few years. do i mention it to the neighbour i wonder?

a touch of sunshine amidst storms

i swim and jump and ride in on the waves. the sea does not feel so cold. i dry in the sun against the warmth of a granite wall. the couple next to us pull a large cafetiere filled with steaming coffee out of a wicker picnic basket. breakfast on the beach.

sun pours in through the studio window. a hare speeds past my feet. i try to see its eyes but so fast - it's gone.




two waking butterflies have found my indoor garden. they unfurl stiff wings. opening and closing and shaking over and over. one flies to the window. i rest a finger beneath it and it perches there, wings outstretched. i stand in the doorway and hold my hand to the sky. an ascending spiral of orange against an intense blue.




soaking in the sun after hibernation.






yesterday i planted crocuses. i dug a bulb sized hole and unearthed an inkwell. today i run it under the tap and see it still contains a dried pool of ink. buried under my floor for many many years. the glass is iridescent and shimmers with a rainbow in this february sun.

found in pools of sunlight

13 cowries and part of a pincer oh so turquoise

of flamingos

yesterday a surprise package turned up from walvis bay in namibia. it was covered in so many stamps.  a slightly squashed little tea box contained individually wrapped treasures from the beach. it was a bit like opening a christmas stocking - lots of intriguing shapes - all very exciting. 

i laid out a selection of objects foreign to my eyes - seed pods, shells and a beautiful coral pink flamingo feather.

only last week i chatting to two artist friends who are preparing for their exhibition. they both have a thing about flamingos. i said i'd never really thought about flamingos before. they told me that from now on i'd see them everywhere. i didn't think any more about it. but maybe this is just the start.....

my friend is a marine biologist researching and working to protect whales, dolphins and other marine life in namibia and beyond. to find out more about her projects you can visit her blog 'west african cetaceans' here.

porthleven findings

the colour of pigeons

of the sea not of the sand

i'm walking along the strand line. i'm searching for driftwood but after these storms and wild seas there isn't much left. of anything. sea walls lie scattered like children's building blocks and sand has been devoured by ravenous waves revealing a barren rocky landscape. 

further down the coast more sand remains and i follow a vast bank of rotting kelp, uprooted like trees. dusk is approaching and i've walked 6 miles. i see black feathers which shimmer with dark green as my eyes wander and take in this dead bird at my feet. it's a shag and it has a striking golden yellow line along its beak. it's snaked neck lies limp in the curves of the sand. a few more paces and i come upon a guillemot, a deep intense velvety brown and white. a little further, a razorbill. it's beautiful beak is broad and feathered right down to it's shiny curved end. compared to the guillemot it looks like a little penguin sleeping softly on the sand. i have a strange feeling of anticipation about what type of bird i might find next but i don't want to find another bird. it is so sad. and with that thought i step around another shag. i decide i'm not going to look anymore. it's getting dark and i make my way towards the glow of the town in the distance.

only the day before we found a little auk. so tiny. so delicate. i've never seen one before. at first glance we thought it was something like a starling. but i fanned out it's teeny black webbed feet and saw it belonged to the sea.