ghost ships

after a thin sliver of a new moon
cradled bright within a perfect faint circle of light
bold stars of the sky dancing in formal constellations
grey rain-veiled day -  the blurred vision of peering through muslin
a wide expanse of watery sand laid bare by the low spring tide
not a soul
the tiniest heart urchin salt and sand-filled bobbing in a shallow pool
the same tiny urchin buried safe inside a hard crusted bread roll
no lunch - hungry
shy stars of the sea revealed in the gloom
star ascidian and small plump cushion stars
starfish orange and starfish purple scattered
large spiny starfish hidden in the tightest crevice
awkwardly crannied crabs wave a claw in warning
cowies and bowed down kelp
wet legs - wet camera
ghost ships
up on rosemullion two rain washed people
ghost friend
 

gifts from the january sea

cuttlefish, by-the-wind sailors, mermaid's purses and mussel shells

crinkly edge of nursehound egg case

fresh from the sea - beautiful colours

love the greeny greys

same egg case - three stages of drying

the sky through a dried by-the-wind sailor skeleton

my friend found an oyster in a mussel shell!

by-the-wind sailors arrive on new years day

the year has started here in cornwall with tens of thousands of tiny sailed vessels floating in to our shores. beaches from sennen to longrock to poldu and many on the north coast have been covered in stranded by-the-wind sailors (velella velella - a pelagic hydroid).

found at longrock bay january 1st - photo by elaine brennan

these amazing little creatures (which are actually not a single organism but a colony of hydroids) live on the open ocean. they have either a left handed or a right handed diagonal sail which determines which side of the wind they travel. it is made of chitin which is the same type of material as insect wings. most that wash up on cornish shores have a sail that twists to the left.

probably some of the same fleet at trenow cove 4th jan

i love the deep indigo blue of their jellyfish-like base. they use these blue pigments to screen themselves from the sun's radiation. their predators include sea slugs and violet sea snails (janthina janthina) which are born male and develop into females over time.

a couple of years ago i had an idea for a piece of work i wanted to make using the dried skeletons. these become opaque and papery as they shrink and dry. i've still not been in the right place at the right time to find more than a few handfuls but gradually i will collect enough to work with.

i was hoping it might be possible to extract the blue pigment but like other experiments i've done drying jellyfish it just turns into a dark smelly sticky mess and the pigment turns brown. some do keep a purpley hue when dried whole.

so i laid them out in rows and as they began to dry i undressed them to remove their skeleton. 

this was so much fun that it was virtually impossible to leave the house to go to something i really wanted to go to. when i returned home i eagerly continued until midnight.

once they are dry there is a beautiful veined texture like a finger print. and their de-hydrated skins also leave their mark upon the paper.

for further information about velella velalla there is a nice little youtube film - 'the secret life of the velella: adrift with the by-the-wind sailor" here.

outside the box

the lorry stops in the road calling the traffic to a halt. a massive steel arm cranks upwards and outwards. it swings across to the pavement and a giant crab claw lowers a huge white woven bag to the ground. half a tonne of lime mortar has arrived.

i'm re-pointing my wall. hours and hours of digging and scraping with increasingly smaller and sharper implements has whiled away many days. it's felt like something between giant dentistry and cleaning the mud out of a horses hoof - many horses, many times over.

i hammer up bricks and pack nooks and crannies with 'gallets' or 'pinnings'. i ease mortar deep into the gaps until they are flush and filled. 5 hours, one bag of mortar down, at least 20 more bags to go..... it's slow but satisfying. this is something new. i've not done it before. it reminds me of working with soft clay and the tools are similar to those i've used in pottery and sculpture. and i'm mulling thoughts over in my head.

i'm feeling very angry after reading an article where education secretary nicky morgan has warned young people that choosing to study arts subjects could "hold them back for the rest of their lives". coupled with falmouth university's recent decision to close its contemporary crafts BA, art and environment and theatre courses, i'm feeling disillusioned. but i'm also feeling more determined and sure of my future plans.

it's incredibly sad that our education establishments have become big businesses where the drive for profit comes at the expense of learning. initially i thought it was about money. that contemporary crafts was too costly a course to run. that felt disappointing. but i quickly realised that if falmouth university were really concerned about the course, they would be campaigning to save it themselves. so, yes it's about money, but it's also about value and that is more dispiriting.

i could write so much about the value and benefits of craft - the exercising of logic and problem solving; body/brain co-ordination and manual dexterity; the deepening of our connection with ourselves, our past, our heritage and our environment; our vastly disregarded need for aesthetic beauty, spiritual and emotional/mental well being; and yes, in our current system - economical benefit (especially in rural areas like cornwall). and all of this seems to be enormously undervalued, yet i regard it as being of vital importance in a very fundamental human way.

to cut these courses seems incredibly short-sighted. at a time where there are floating islands of plastic choking our marine life, loss of species, habitats, wild places through the exploitation and exhaustion of natural resources, surely 'art and environment' is one of the most forward-thinking, progressive courses? especially being based here in falmouth with it's rich maritime history and natural beauty. and that's just the environmental crisis. looking at social issues with pressure on food and housing for an increasing population - surely many of the skills learnt on crafts courses are transferable creating independence to do such things as repair homes, bake bread etc. why not create courses that are unique to falmouth - that reflect and celebrate cornwall and it's unique heritage and landscape? courses that fulfil a deep human need that is timeless and sustainable - surely that is a better investment?

it seems that to take away such courses (with the potential for other arts subjects to follow) is to take away our self-expression, self-sufficiency, our playful, free-thinking, creative resourcefulness. without this we are numbed and dumbed and easier to subjugate.

when i studied at art college i became involved in running a food co-op as an alternative to supermarkets. i believed (and still do) that big businesses shouldn't control and profit from our basic need for food and survival. i regard making and creating as another primal need and tantamount for the health and survival of our society. never did i think that one day i may see the necessity to set up independent art courses as an alternative to art college.

today my cousin delivers two old wooden boxes to my studio. one is locked. my grandfather died aged 101 in july. as a young child his woodwork shed was my first introduction to tools and making. he built furniture for our bedrooms and he built boats. i feel privileged to have inherited these tools - works of craftsmanship in their own right. i also feel thankful that i know how to use them. i believe that to cut craft education and facilities in schools, colleges and universities severs a vital link to our past and denies us access to our ancestors and our roots.

why did he stick a bovril label on his mallet? i guess we'll never know!

to show your support please sign this petition to campaign against the proposed closure of contemporary crafts at falmouth university - click here

and to join the very active facebook group you can find the link here 

the falling tide

'the falling tide' is a collection of work, which celebrates my relationship to the sea and shore. particularly inspired by swimming and beachcombing, i seek to capture my emotional response to this part of my life. i use natural pigments, some of which are collected locally and ground down into a fine dust, on boards layered with gesso and edged in reclaimed lead. 

i collect objects imbued with sea-worn beauty: sun-bleached and fragile, their stories untold. i love both the element of discovery and fine details of these finds: the subtlest colours, tiny patterns, fragmented shapes, textures and rhythms. i strive to convey this visual language within my paintings with sensitivity. for me, this is the poetry of the sea.

these same patterns and rhythms are echoed on a larger scale. as the moon pulls the tide every scattered strand line embodies the passing of time. that which lies hidden beneath the salt water is revealed. the boundaries between land and sea constantly shift.

this work is about discovery and exposure, transition and change, cycles and connections; and it's about finding the space for stillness within this movement and change. it's about facing things, finding the courage to be still, to listen to oneself and reflect. i believe it's important to be curious and to explore, to leave no words unspoken, no stone unturned, but to do so with the lightest of touch.


"i'll call you, and we'll light a fire, and drink some wine and recognise each other in the place that is ours. don't wait. don't tell the story later.

life is so short. this stretch of sea and sand, this walk on the shore, before the tide covers everything we have done."

(jeanette winterson - 'lighthouse keeping')

catching thoughts

june has been a month of trusting. not knowing and trusting that not knowing will lead to knowing.

lead from the roof of a crumbling georgian town house built in the countyside - traded for hours of painting window frames. that lead has been scrubbed and hammered and persuaded into position around boards. these bound boards have been layered with chalky gesso and sanded in the heat of the midday sun in a garden. morning and evening sea swims. lots.

this collection of white boards stand like gravestones, unwritten and leaning at angles around the room. they surround me. they daunt me. i gather them together for a group photograph - a large family of differing shapes and sizes. i need to learn them, to get to know them for they are new to me.

thoughts flit and fly and some are caught, pinned down for closer inspection. examination. the river is walked at low tide. procrastination. bones of birds and ribs of boats are found. a rusty orange is dug from the bank and further down an assortment of verdigris nails lie exposed in the mud. two rusty keys and a mermaid's purse but no sign of the mermaid who left these behind. what was lost is found. that which was concealed is revealed.

a single heart urchin hangs on the wall. sunlight shifts and flickers on its bare white shell. symbolic of a love and loss. fragile and delicate it pulses persistently through my mind and paintings. the most beautiful thing. swimmers dive through graphite seas and the corroded disc of a can holds a handful of rust-stained cowries. that's all there is. that and music. a lot of music.

'the falling tide' - notes for my exhibition

-isles of scilly - heart urchins whole - heart urchins broken - rare whole heart urchin broken -  treasures to be found on a spring tide - revealing what's normally under the sea - what's hidden is brought to light - exposure - honesty - truth - peeling back layers of the self - discovery - the unknown - self-discovery - from unconscious to conscious

-looking - seeing - investigating new things for the first time - walking where i normally swim - exposure of the foreshore - land unowned by anyone - freedom

-the edge - where water meets land - physical boundaries - ever-changing - personal boundaries - fine tuning - adjustment - poor mental health most resistant to change - good mental health least resistant - liminal space (jane) - place of transition - not knowing

-the pull of the moon - full moon/spring tide - the changing landscape - reflection - solstice fire - stories -  'fiery skies of far away' - silver sea - night swimming - dreams

-clarity - space - the courage to be still - to listen to oneself - to reflect - the tide of life

"i'll call you, and we'll light a fire, and drink some wine and recognise each other in the place that is ours. don't wait. don't tell the story later.

life is so short. this stretch of sea and sand, this walk on the shore, before the tide covers everything we have done."

(jeanette winterson - lighthouse keeping)

secret beach in may

    (with scratches on a roe deer hoof)