After the Event

Well, the exhibition opening has come and gone. I was calm and in control right up to the end. I worked methodically through everything I had to do like a well-oiled machine. On the night the timing was perfect. I had time for a nice refreshing and cleansing shower beforehand and then had an hour and a half to prepare the tapas, which I did with three minutes to spare! I enjoyed it. I had to just do it. There was no time to stop and think too much, although at the same time I was making up certain recipes and mixtures of flavours. It was creative and hugely satisfying and relaxing. I even had enough time to wipe down the counters and stack the dirty boards, knives and mixing bowls for a wash-up later on.

I can’t believe how relaxed I was when I arrived at the Casa de la Cultura and calmly started opening bottles of wine and stacking up the plastic cups and organizing the hospitality table in general.

And then the people started arriving. Most were friends but there were also various interested people who I had never met before and there were visiting dignitaries invited by the powers that be. The gallery wasn’t thronged, but I was more than happy with the turnout. It was interesting to see the people who did support me and those that did not. Of course people have their own reasons for not coming on the night and so I prefer to dwell on the surprise of certain people who did come.

It was an enjoyable night for me. Of course I must have been a little bit nervous and in fact I know now that I must have been quite wired over the past couple of weeks of intense work and planning because for the last two days (after the event) I feel about a hundred years old and am having the greatest difficulty dragging my aching bones out of the bed in the morning. Still I forced myself out this morning and went up to my beloved forest. It was a struggle, especially as the weather last night was wet and very windy and it looked cold this morning, so I put on a fleece and was glad of it, although by the time I got to the forest I was sweating gently.

And there I was surrounded by the damp and earthy smells. There was a lovely blue tinge in the air where there was a slight morning mist hanging just suspended by invisible hands. I saw two different types of mushrooms. I was told yesterday by someone who knows about these things that there are mushrooms to be had up there so I was on the look out. It is frustrating that I have not yet learned which ones are edible though. I have the fear of God in me about picking poisonous ones and so hesitate. It is so hard to identify them from books and there is always a margin of error.

My attempts at jogging this morning were pretty hopeless I will admit, but I forced myself to do just a little bit of stop-start stuff. My legs felt like lead and felt quite stiff down the backs of my calves as well. Still I did a bit and perhaps will be fresher tomorrow and I will try again. All the same I managed to free my mind from all the work of the past few weeks and two new ideas just popped into my head. I have now jotted down notes on them and this afternoon I will do a couple of little sketches in my sketchbook to keep them there until I have time to carry them out properly.

Today it is still windy although in the main there is good sunshine. It is a holiday tomorrow for All Soul’s Day (or is it all Saint’s – I always get the two confused and really think that only the very devout know for sure) so there have been a few firecrackers and rockets going off today. I am sure there will be some marching and drumming tomorrow too. It starts to fascinate me, this heartbeat of the land. I often hear drumming practice going on at various times. It is a country of rhythm and slowly but surely I start to slip into that rhythm. The heartbeat starts to control all the residents unless they strongly resist. I have no problem with being sucked in. I like the warmth of the country and of the people that I am meeting here slowly or ‘poco a poco’. I am in no great rush. I have the rest of my life.

Just a Quickie

I am a bit busy trying to get everything ready for my exhibition - opening on the 29th of October.

Things like my Blog have slid a little bit, but I will return all guns blazing after the opening which is always a little bit stressful!

I hope you will tune back in again afterwards and I apologise for not Blogging conscientiously.

Mary x

After the Rain

Well, I think I have jinxed the Costa del Sol. It used to be sunny here before I came to live here and now it seems to have turned on its head and become the Costa del lluvia. It rained all last night it would seem – I don’t know exactly as I slept through most of it. There must be a medal in there somewhere – something about Global Warming and all my wishes and hopes for the safe destiny of the Earth and the human race.

I woke this morning to the continuing sound of rain on the roof and on the street outside – always a little bit worrying as we need to get our roof seen to after the rains of last winter – it took a bit of a beating and will sadly have to be replaced to make it secure.

But on the upside – apart from the roof – I actually like rain! I know it sounds mad, but I did move to Ireland in the first place – nearly 30 years ago because I thought the climate would suit me and I was right back then. But everyone is permitted to change and have different wants and requirements at different stages of their lives and now I really crave the warmth on my bones which is why I came here – well one of the reasons. For me the climate seems perfect now as it is though as I do like the seasons and like to see the world turning. The day coming and going, the weeks passing and Summer turning into Autumn and then Winter, and as the earth revolves the Spring returns to warm the ground.

So I was happy with the rain last night and when I had got myself up and dressed and had looked up some stuff on the internet it was about half past eight by which time the rain had stopped and the skies had cleared so I set off for my Sunday morning walk and now jog through the forest. I have to say it was breathtaking after the rain. The air was clear and washed. There was none of the usual dust in the atmosphere. The ground underfoot was not packed hard and had a nice softness and give to it. Nice for walking and especially jogging on. I like the colours of the ground too after the rain – all the colours are richer and more defined.

And then I turned to have a look at the view! I don’t think a verbal description can do it justice. But I will try. The mountains looked like they were cut out cleanly against the sky by God’s scissors. The slopes were carved starkly by His carving tools – every crevice and nook and cranny showed up in stark contrast – that is, where you could see them, for the lower parts of the mountains were still swathed in wet washed clouds – white fluffy but ripped – they resembled really fresh washed bed linen, pure white and whipped around the lower part of the mountains. Breathtaking! I say it again with no shame – for that is what I felt as I stood there up on a height after a steady climb, my lungs were working hard at breathing in the clean and quite cold air – the little hairs were standing up on my arms, working hard to keep me warm – but it felt great, really fresh and invigorating and that view! If I did really believe in God He was there on the mountain today busy carving and cutting and whipping.

I wish I had thought to bring my camera with me – but there is only so much you can carry with you on a jog and I had not thought that there would be those sort of spectacular photo opportunities. Still I have the picture etched in my head and for you now described as best I can here. (The photo posted here now was taken after the last rains actually - and is of twigs which were swept into little banks by the heavy rains as they washed along the forest track)

What the clearness also brought to me were visions of some really nice ideas for future works – prints and/or medals. As I walked and jogged and thought I dreamed up four distinct different images – of which I think two are really viable. I noted all of them in my sketchbook on my return and look forward to starting on them as soon as my current exhibition is over. Of course being me I really want to start on them now – but time really being far too short at this stage I will have to concentrate on what I have already started first.

Tie me down!!

A New Leaf - Running up to the Exhibition!

Well who would have thought it little old me has got a date for an exhibition in the Casa de la Cultura right here in Alhaurín el Grande. The 29^th of October – a bit sooner than previously mooted. So now I am quietly going into panic mode. Of course I will get everything done in time – I have got too, haven’t I?

The only trouble is this I have ordered paper and lino from England – So far it has not been possible to get suitable paper here or suitable lino either for that matter. Because of the exorbitant cost, I opted for 7 day delivery – let us hope it is just that and not longer or I will be in serious trouble. I have of course two lino plates cut already and two drawings completed for getting down to work as soon as the lino arrives and then get on to printing. In a well organized campaign I would in the meantime try to complete two additional drawings which could then also be converted into lino on its arrival. However, that is really only part of the problem. The bigger part is getting the plates printed up, time consuming anyway and then comes the worst part. The ink is special slow-drying stuff which takes weeks to dry! I know! and I don’t have weeks so I will be out with the hairdryer I guess and I think that there will be prints going into frames even while they are still wet. I hope they do not get smudged.

Well there is nothing to be done about it.

Actually I have just missed the first attempted delivery now (it is Friday) – so will have to wait until Monday for a second attempt. This time I will be home (which I was) but will leave the front door open and the music off. When I am in my office/studio I do not actually hear sometimes when the doorbell rings downstairs. It is a bit silly actually as the bell is at the front door of course – and low enough for every child in Alhaurín to reach and ring as they walk past! However, the ding-dong bit is just inside the front door, but still outside in the porch and so quite difficult to hear when one is at the back of our incredibly long house. I really do not quite know how it got designed like that – but when I lay my hands on the culprit I will give him Ding-Dong! I think I will disconnect the bell when the intercom bell goes in – the new one will ring deeper inside the house and upstairs to boot so should actually alert me to visitors without my having to sit waiting at the front door, quiet as a mouse. Actually I should ring up the electrician to get the intercom installed, but you know what it is like – these little jobs just get pushed to the back of the pile especially when there other more important things still to be done – like building the rest of the house!

In any event I am not actually in much of a fit state to do anything today as I went to the opening of an exhibition last night and from there out for a few drinks with our friend Steve. Then back to ours for a nightcap. It was late and I had far too much to drink.

So I was not going to have anything tonight – it being Saturday now (this blog post seems to be going on interminably), but got wind that the new bar on the Plaza Baja was opening this evening so decided I would go down to lend them a bit of support. It was very enjoyable with lots of people there, free drinks and the chef was taking tapas around all the evening. They had also gone to the trouble of hiring a band, which was very good also. The only downside was that my darling Vic was not with me as he is back in England at the moment. So of course now I have had a few drinks anyway – still I have not overdone it and should be fresh in the morning and so will be able to go for a good walk in the forest methinks – that will start the week well.

So in fact, in spite of what appears to be a bit of a ramble, I have brought the theme through this blog after all – which is new beginnings and openings. My exhibition opening, the opening last night, the launch of the new bar and a new week starting tomorrow. Also you could add to that a new leaf as I will not drink tomorrow in order to renew my liver. I promise.

El Bosque/The Forest - or Home

I have just discovered the forest in Alhaurín. I knew it was there, but it would appear that I have been flirting with it a little bit – or perhaps it has been flirting with me.

In truth I have been a little bit afraid of entering it. Although I was longing for the cool and still of the canopy I held back because I did not know how dark and mysterious it might be. I also did not want to rush it as I plan to be here for a very long time, so why try and find out everything at once? I want to savour each new experience before moving onto the next.

And so I danced around its edges. I began by walking up along the top road in Alhaurín – Calle Blas Infante – which is built up and has its share of shops, cafes and bars. I continued walking this road every day until I learned of a country road parallel to it, but just a bit higher up. This is in itself a much more satisfactory sort of road as it has more grass, wildflowers, trees and fields and no pavement and fewer houses so one has to walk on the road. Country.

But from certain points along this country road I could see the way some of the fincas stretched up as far as the first trees of the forest – their wire fences snaking their way up the incline and disappearing from view as the overgrowth becomes thicker or they meet a cliff face. For in a lot of that stretch, below the forest, on the south side of the pueblo, the slope of the mountain is broken at the base by a sheer drop. It is in this cliff face that you can see the caves. Some are quite large although they do not seem to extend deep within the earth – but the caves will have to be explored at some point in the future – for now it is the forest that holds me enthralled.

From the country road to forest was not a long transition – once I could see the close proximity to the lower level of the mountain I was like a moth fluttering closer and closer to the flame. So one day, not so very many weeks ago now, I walked up to it boldly and entered it.

As I had anticipated it is a place of awe and wonder. It is not a place for earphones, music or Spanish lessons, and I only take my phone in case of emergencies although there are always people walking dogs, jogging or cycling, so in fact you are quite safe, unless of course you leave the track and then you would be on your own – so I take it just to be on the safe side.

Although you do meet people there are not many, so the wonderful sense of isolation and contemplation is all around. The forest is mostly silent. Sounds are muffled but still at times you can hear the church bells from the village, very distant, and also sometimes cries and shouts of people (playing perhaps?) echo up, but it is only in parts. My favourite sound is the sudden cracking of a branch. Obviously there are some birds, still unidentified. Some of them caw like crows, although they are not – I saw one fleetingly yesterday and it had much more colour, some blue beneath and brownish on the back, and I have seen the eagles whirling overhead making their pip pip noise.

Of course if you stop and listen you can hear much more; the creeping of beetles and the rustle of branches in the wind and bees buzzing while they gather nectar.

But mainly as you walk you are overwhelmed by the silence around you, disturbed only by the crunch of your own feet on gravel or twigs

I have taken some photos, obviously, and am delighted at how some of them really capture the essense of the forest – the blackness of the shadow between the trees and the brightness and contrast of a shaft of light as it forces its way through some gap or other in the foliage. There is also a blue haze that permeates parts of the forest, like magic mist.

The trees are mainly pine – although in the later part of my walk – obviously depending which direction you take – these are replaced by olive, some fig, some oak and other species as yet unidentified.

I believe the pine trees to be pinus pinea or Stone or Umbrella Pine – the latter name really appealing to me now and opening all sorts of parallel avenues! If anyone knows different then please email me and correct me of course. The bark is very distinctive with very strong vertical platelets – the colour ranges from various greys to terracotta. Really beautiful. I love the strong texture and the earthy palette. I have also discovered – if my identification is correct – that these have large edible nuts in the cones, so I must watch out for these.

Of course I am keeping my eyes and other senses peeled for signs of mushrooms as the thought of being able to go a-mushrooming in the autumn is a thought which truly gladdens my heart. I don’t think you could ever go hungry if you lived in a forest and you know how I feel about mushrooms!

And so I explore – so far I have not strayed very far from the forestry pathway, which is large enough to take a car by the way, but bit by bit I know I will venture off road and further up the side of the mountain, but that is not usually recommended to do on your own – in any event it is still a bit too hot, but in another month who knows. For now I am content to continue my flirtation getting to know the curves and nuances and studying the light and magic places in the most traveled part of the forest.

I love the forest and now that I have found it I feel more content and more fulfilled in my choice to move here. I knew it was the right place for me to call ‘Home’

Artist's Block or Clouds and Silver Linings

Did I write about this subject before. If I did, well forgive me, as I am going to write about it again. Why? Because it is an affliction that affects all artists form time to time – some more than others – and it is so frustrating and debilitating. When it happens you procrastinate and procrastinate and then finally sit facing an empty canvas or sheet of paper and realize that it is now or never and so nothing else gets done in the house, as actually everything has been done during the first period of procrastination. No more books may be read either, because that is procrastinating too, although it can be classed as inspiration at times, in which case it may then be allowed, but you have to read something worthy not some easy-read-bodice-ripping-yarn. And then it is Ohmygod! I have to produce something or never again!

I wish I had a job in the library. Then I could pretend that I was not an artist and never was.

When I was little I thought it was great to be an artist. Not because I thought it was a cool profession, in those days things like that never entered my head as I was too busy looking at clouds or umbrellas, but because if you make things – like I did – then you were never lonely or never bored.

How wrong was I!

I get terribly lonely sometimes and when I am facing that empty sheet of paper I can be so bored, because nothing presents itself – then it is little steps. I might draw a leaf. But then that leads to nothing. I try to draw a landscape. Difficult at the best of times. Nothing. A building – I could never draw straight lines anyway. I go through old notebooks and try to haul out ideas from them. I have some good ideas there, but then trying to draw them when I am like this can be impossible. I draw another leaf. Terrible, it doesn’t even look like a leaf. I can’t draw and will never be able to draw again! I get up and pace the floor backwards and forwards, thinking, thinking, what will I draw? What do I want to draw? I go upstairs into the bedroom and look out the window at my pigeons for inspiration. They are not even there – gone out shopping I suppose – I look at an empty drainpipe, well empty except for those dirty plastic bottles which I must remove when I get a long stick. Not much inspiration here.

I go to my artbooks and look through them. Fantastic! All these artists making all this fabulous work and I can’t even draw a blessed leaf! That doesn’t help it only makes me more frustrated and jealous. I wail and gnash my teeth – not that this helps either, but it is involuntary.

I go downstairs again and sit in front of my paper. It is blank.

I go into the kitchen and make a cup of tea – I wander round polishing a bit while the kettle boils. Teabag, stir, squeeze – half a spoon of sugar, stir – good dollop of milk – it is all about ritual. Anything to waste another bit of time without having to stare at that darned piece of paper. The blank piece.

I sit down in front of my blank piece of paper and drink my cup of tea. I finish the tea, the paper is still blank. I go to the kitchen and wash the cup and put it to drain on the draining board.

I sit down in front of my blank piece of paper and pick up my pencil desperately looking around me for inspiration – even my hair is standing up on end with frustration! There is no inspiration at the kitchen table under the stairs.

I get up and go back upstairs, I have had an idea. I get my old source books out – which I made in college and miraculously kept – well it wasn’t really a miracle it was because I remember our tutors saying that when you were blocked – and everyone gets blocked from time to time – get out your old sketchbooks and sourcebooks and look at them. What wise tutors we had in college and how wise I was to listen to them.

I go through the source books and find a picture I like which could work with the theme I wish to explore so I go downstairs again and slowly, very slowly start to copy the picture – just copy it – that is ok, it is still my drawing of the photo in front of me and as such it starts to take on a small life of its own and bit by bit I become absorbed in the process of making lines and drawing wrinkles, I do not want to put in any shading at this point as this is going to be a line drawing for a print – the shading will come with the cutting of the plate. I do not notice the time going until I look up and find it is getting dark in the room where I sit and there are mosquitoes nipping at my ankles, so I get up to close the door.

My body is stiff from being in the same position for a long time and my eyes smart from squinting at the paper and from the tears of frustration that were flowing freely from them earlier that day and for the past few days.

I look at the drawing again and am happy with it. That is a result, although I am not out of the woods yet. Still it is late and my body is tired so I pour a drink and allow myself to sit at the table with a book in my hand and read a bit to take my mind off the terrible day I have put down.

From early morning until late in the evening I have finally produced a tiny little speck of a drawing and I know it is not one of my best, but it is better than the leaves or the other various attempts I made over the past few days.

The house is spotless. All the bedlinen has been washed and the floors have been swept, vacuumed and washed down twice. Window frames have been cleaned and all the little corners of the kitchen have been attended to. I hung a picture and the clock in the kitchen, filed all my documents and receipts – which means I will not be able to find anything. I picked up all the clothes draped on the floor the two bedroom chairs and the end of the bed and folded and put them all away. The ones that needed washing have been washed and folded and put away also. I sorted though my chest of drawers as well for old clothes and these have been washed, folded and bagged for the charity shop. The toilets have been scrubbed, delimescaled and bleached to within and inch of their lives and all the chrome fittings are sparkling.

Letters have been written, blogs have been written, Spanish verbs have been copied and filed for later use (in other words – lost). All the old newspapers have been tossed and I even swept my under-construction-terrace although there is no real need as it really is a work in progress and no matter how many hanging baskets you put on it a cement mixer will always be a cement mixer.

Artist’s block does have its upside I will grant you. But those tears of frustration and the fear of never being able to draw again, not to mention the strain that all the drinking puts on your liver while you have nothing else to do – those are not so good.

People think that being an artist is a jolly life. You get to sit in bars all day and observe people, you are allowed to drink too much and people almost expect you to be wild and behave badly. Some artists do that is true, but most of us just live quietly and try to scrape a living from our work and live from one block to the next with the thought of the next one never far away even when we are working like a maniac.

I remember someone once referring to my art as a ‘hobby’ (I was working as well at that time) that too is not a true perception of what it is to be an artist. It is a compulsion, at least it is for me and part of who I am as a person, my identity, which is why that block is such a threat to me. If I cannot draw or make or whatever, then what am I. At this point in my life I think it unlikely that I will be able to reinvent myself as something else – an engineer for instance – I have been an artist now for 50 year after all and it is somewhat engrained. I was born with this affliction and am certain now that I will die with it. But it is not such an easy ride as people think – I only hope that in time I will also become better at dealing with the block when it comes. But then the house would never get a Spring clean!

Some Like it Hot

Well, now it is HOT!

I am sitting in a pool of sweat – unfortunately not a swimming pool!

I am simply melting, but refuse to be put off. It is still a novelty and after the years and years of incessant rain and cold winds and storms that I have put down in recent times this is definitely preferable.

Let me count the upsides of too much heat:

1. It is dead easy to drink your required eight glasses of water a day!
2. You hardly ever have to go to the toilet for a wee.
3. Like a sauna, it really cleans all the ingrained dirt out of your pores, but there is no snow to roll in after the sauna. Actually the sauna does not end!
4. You don’t have to wear many clothes which saves on washing.
5. You don’t have to wear sunblock because it is too hot to go out
6. But you do manage to keep a nice little brown glow going by very short exposures – to the line and back is sufficient.
7. On that subject – clothes dry really quickly
8. You don’t need to put on the central heating in the evenings or fill a hotwater bottle on your way to bed.
9. You can’t tell when you have a hot flash – because you seem to have one that lasts all day and all night and everybody else is having them too. All of Spain is menopausing!
10. If you forget to close the window before leaving the house for the day you don’t have to worry about the rain blowing in all over all your bits on the windowsill.
11. You never have to take a jacket or a wrap on a late night out, although mosquito repellant is advisable
12. No jumpers
13. No overcoats
14. You can work slowly and no one complains
15. The weeds do not bother to grow so there is no weeding to be done
16. Mind you as we have discovered that our garden is just one great big rock I do not think that weeding is going to be a huge problem over the years – a huge Zen garden springs to mind! So just a bit of gentle raking when I am in the mood
17. You can admit to taking a snooze in the afternoon and you don’t have to call it a power nap anymore.
18. Will I continue?
19. Or are you getting the picture
20. When I finally get my wonderful terrace built out the back of the house I will be able to spend the summer time slopping about making fantastic clay sculptures and not worry about getting covered in water and wet clay – it will be an image from Woodstock or Reading Festival, but perhaps a bit more creative.

I do think I have earned this right to be enjoying my life here – obviously it is not perfect as I have been at pains to point out in previous postings, but as a life choice this has to count as one of my better ones. In fact I am not sure that I actually made any real choices before this one – they sort of happened in a much more organic way and I was reactive rather than proactive. Mind you this one I could probably have thought through a bit more first, but hey! That would go against a whole lifetime of shooting from the hip and being led by my heart.

And both those things have served me pretty well so far.