'I called today, Peter, and you were away.
I look out over Botallack and over Ding
Dong and Levant and over the jasper sea.

Find me a thermal to speak and soar to you from
Over Lanyon Quoit and the circling stones standing
High on the moor over Gurnard’s Head where some

Time three foxglove summers ago, you came.
The days are shortening over Little Parc Owles.
The poet or painter steers his life to maim

Himself somehow for the job. His job is Love
Imagined into words or paint...'

– WS Graham, opening lines of The Thermal Stair (in memory of Peter Lanyon)

I'll be heading back here through the wild winds, thinking of Sydney pretending to be a storm, roaring through the door, Nessie singing... later in February as Artist of the Month throughout March.

... 'Approaching The Gurnard's Head' felting with stitching, inspired by W.S.Graham. Sold.

The whole poem...❤️

I called today, Peter, and you were away.
I look out over Botallack and over Ding
Dong and Levant and over the jasper sea.

Find me a thermal to speak and soar to you from
Over Lanyon Quoit and the circling stones standing
High on the moor over Gurnard’s Head where some

Time three foxglove summers ago, you came.
The days are shortening over Little Parc Owles.
The poet or painter steers his life to maim

Himself somehow for the job. His job is Love
Imagined into words or paint to make
An object that will stand and will not move.

Peter, I called and you were away, speaking
Only through what you made and at your best.
Look, there above Botallack, the buzzard riding

The salt updraught slides off the broken air
And out of sight to quarter a new place.
The Celtic sea, the Methodist sea is there.

You said once in the Engine
House below Morvah
That words make their world
In the same way as the painter’s
Mark surprises him
Into seeing new.
Sit here on the sparstone
In this ruin where
Once the early beam
Engine pounded and broke
The air with industry.

Now the chuck of daws
And the listening sea.

‘Shall we go down’ you said
‘Before the light goes
And stand under the old
Tinworkings around
Morvah and St Just?’
You said ‘Here is the sea
Made by alfred wallis
Or any poet or painter’s
Eye it encountered.
Or is it better made
By all those vesselled men
Sometime it maintained?
We all make it again.’

Give me your hand, Peter,
To steady me on the word.

Seventy-two by sixty,
Italy hangs on the wall.
A woman stands with a drink
In some polite place
And looks at SARACINESCO
And turns to mention space.
That one if she could
Would ride Artistically
The thermals you once rode.

Peter, the phallic boys
Begin to wink their lights.
Godrevy and the Wolf
Are calling Opening Time.
We’ll take the quickest way
The tin singers made.
Climb here where the hand
Will not grasp on air.
And that dark-suited man
Has set the dominoes out
On the Queen’s table.
Peter, we’ll sit and drink
And go in the sea’s roar
To Labrador with wallis
Or rise on Lanyon’s stair.
​
Uneasy, lovable man, give me your painting
Hand to steady me taking the word-road home.
Lanyon, why is it you’re earlier away?
Remember me wherever you listen from.
Lanyon, dingdong dingdong from carn to carn.
It seems tonight all Closing bells are tolling
Across the Duchy shire wherever I turn.
#wsgraham #poetry #felting

'so world is a leaf so a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now '

- e e cummings


I was going to make another Jackdaw sister (for her Sold 8 siblings!) but a different bird appeared... and my female blackbird burbled (a beautiful deep red-brown joyous, contented sound) outside my window as i worked... and as I'd seen three female blackbirds together whilst driving home from Zennor recently... it just had to be her x

And the beautiful, exciting, spiritual, musical, painterful, playful, joyous, gentle e e cummings, whom I've loved, I feel, forever.

To Love, pure Consciousness, Isness...and female blackbirds, within and as and of all of this :)
​

'if everything happens that can't be done' by e e cummings
 ❤️
if everything happens that can't be done
(and anything's righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there's nothing as something as one

one hasn't a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don't grow)
one's anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we come who)
one's everyanything so

so world is a leaf so a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now

now i love you and you love me
(and books are shuter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there's somebody calling who's we

we're anything brighter than even the sun
(we're everything greater
than books
might mean)
we're everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one
.............................................................................
Needlepunch sketch, superfine wool, 29 x 20 cm

❤️ 'What if a much of a which of a wind...' x

​'What it taught me before, I keep. It’s air
ceaseless wind, water and sand.'

- Pablo Neruda

A beautiful windy walk with a friend today... and a view to Portheras Cove - a special place for me as I lived close by when my son was born and often walked with him here ...and to the Lighthouse and Boat Cove.

- and from the astoundingly beautiful poems 'On The Blue Shore Of Silence' by Pablo Neruda:

The Sea

I need the sea because it teaches me.
I don’t know if I learn music or awareness,
if it’s a single wave or its vast existence,
or only its harsh voice or its shining
suggestion of fishes and ships.
The fact is that until I fall asleep,
in some magnetic way I move in
the university of the waves.

It’s not simply the shells crunched
as if some shivering planet
were giving signs of its gradual death;
no, I reconstruct the day out of a fragment,
the stalactite from the sliver of salt,
and the great god out of a spoonful.

What it taught me before, I keep. It’s air
ceaseless wind, water and sand.

It seems a small thing for a young man,
to have come here to live with his own fire;
nevertheless, the pulse that rose
and fell in its abyss,
the crackling of the blue cold,
the gradual wearing away of the star,
the soft unfolding of the wave
squandering snow with its foam,
the quiet power out there, sure
as a stone shrine in the depths,
replaced my world in which were growing
stubborn sorrow, gathering oblivion,
and my life changed suddenly:
as I became part of its pure movement.
.............................................................
This felting, Sold, was inspired by windy walk to Portheras Cove a while ago ...music and awareness...
✨
Felting - using merino, Shetland, Exmoor, tussah silks, wool nepps, bamboo fibre, stitching (36 x 32 cms)
#neruda #poetry #felting #cornwall
​

​Creating a felting inspired by a poem by Nessie Dunsmuir has been a process full of developing greater understanding and inspiration.

W.S.Graham is a fascinating poet, writing profound and exciting poetry and letters and his partner, Nessie Dunsmuir has a presence that is woven lovingly throughout his life and work. I’ve wondered about her, a quiet, supporting strength to WSG and resolved to find out a little more about her, in her own words.

I’d discovered that a slim volume of her poetry had been published, but couldn’t find a copy until I thought of The Hypatia Trust  which collects, and makes available, published and personal documentation about the achievements of women in every aspect of their lives. I contacted them in Penzance, Cornwall and they have a copy in their poetry collection! housed in the beautiful Victorian mansion that is Morrab Library.
​
It was emotional and sensitive and I felt like I was meeting her at last, Nessie in her own words. 
​

​Reading the poem 'By the Window' created such strong visuals for me and I just had to create a felting!
​
By the Window
by Nessie Dunsmuir
 
Here by the window blackthorn and elder tree
sharpen my sight to love. The shadows of
small birds descend and raise,
clearer than print on page,
deeply forgotten colours of my stumbling days.
 
The Easter fields of children turn again
the legend’s wheel. The painted eggs begin
to roll our death away.
In the cold April day
each child is blessed and lies with Spring within.
 
Here by my head blackbird and beaded tree
borrow me back from Easter’s cross and kiss.
Bracken fronds hand me light.
My own beginning eyes
load at the sill the buds breaking to white.
 
                                                                          (1945)

I love the themes of newness, beginning, Spring, peace, love, light, reminiscence, looking onto a brighter, more hopeful world -individually to universally and the cycle of life…
I loved the imagery of Easter, children, painted eggs, a cold April day, a blackthorn, buds and flowering, the elder tree, the flying birds in the scene falling and rising and the image of the printed page…their shadows, marks and meaning… and the blackbird had to be Nessie, a female blackbird, looking out, observing….

Finding out more about the symbolism of the elder and blackthorn was fascinating, too, I’ve always known these twisted, gnarled branches as witchery fingers and that they are associated with the dark side of the year and quite sinister, however the Celts observed that this tree produced some of the sweetest berries among the sacred tribe of trees, at their most succulent and sweetest after a hard frost… the blessing comes after the challenge.

The elder too, as the Goddess tree, the Elder Mother, The Queen of Herbs, full of magical, sacred properties; a tree of beginnings and endings, of birth and death, a spirit of transformation and the crossing of thresholds…

I've been reading the wonderful 'A Year with Rilke' translated and edited by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows; these are daily readings which bring together many of Rilke's beautiful works, and for the 3rd of January is the poem 'Entering', from 'Book of Images' - just right for the year's beginning:

'Entering' by Rainer Maria Rilke

Whoever you may be: step into the evening.
Step out of the room where everything is known.
Whoever you are,
your house is the last before the far-off.
With your eyes, which are almost too tired
to free themselves from the familiar,
you slowly take one black tree
and set it against the sky: slender, alone.
And you have made a world.
It is big
and like a word, still ripening in silence.
And though your mind would fabricate its meaning,
your eyes tenderly let go of what they see.


Rilke's poetry often explores beginnings and departures, seeing and creating anew, being on the verge of the undiscovered... and stillness - evoking a presence beyond words and concepts. I always see strong visuals and colours when I read his work and love the creating and letting go in this poem...

Do you find this too? That when reading poetry or any form of writing, you experience colours and visuals?... I'd love to know whether reading inspires you to paint and create.

I was so happy to take part in a charity art auction this month, for Cornwall Hospice Care at The Exchange gallery, part of 'Newlyn Art Gallery and The Exchange' in Penzance.  The event raised much needed funds for this important charity and was attended by many.

It was an honour for me to show my work alongside many well-known and inspiring local artists and it's wonderful to know that my felting, inspired by a line in a poem by the local poet W.S. Graham has found a happy home.
​

Two years ago, in a very dark place, I started a course, after weeks of researching and reading many books and articles and ultimately finding out more about Narcissism, and not the everyday ‘oh they love themselves’ breezy definition but full-blown NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder), an illness which has shattering effects on others - it is insidious, destructive, suffocating, controlling and manipulative. Throughout my research, things started to fit together, so much resonated with my own experiences - then I came across these articles and videos… and soon after, I signed up to ‘The No to Narcissist Programme for HSPs’.
​
This was not a course which focused on the Narcissist, a blessed relief after so many years, or which looked at ‘blaming’, but on liberating myself from a lifetime of (mostly) unconscious patterns and in understanding how these entrenched patterns of my own behaviour meant - and there was struggle with this at first - I had to recognise my own responsibility in the types of personal relationship I’d had as an adult. Most importantly, with growing knowledge and understanding, things slotted into place, made sense; I woke up and felt the strength I had, in that I had the capacity to change this, and so started the intense inner work and stopped participating in the nightmarish ‘key and lock’ dance. Rather than trying to heal/ sacrifice yourself to the Narcissist (impossible black hole) you can heal yourself.

Patterns of codependency, in the form of wanting to please, fix, help, care for, show infinite compassion for, along with having a gentle and sensitive nature, can attract/draw us towards those intensely needy of attention and care, to those who lack empathy, who can never get enough, who are takers, ‘you’ are never enough, to those who can be demanding, controlling, easily enraged, with a sense of entitlement... Over years, for the codependent, this leads to a debilitating lack of self-compassion, self-respect, self-care, feelings of inadequacy, never being ‘good enough’ and feeling completely disassociated from who you are – even your emotions are not your own; you are, in effect, written by the other and then erased, repeatedly. ‘Love’ is utterly conditional on pleasing them.

The patterns reach back to childhood and a subtle, often unconscious 'training' by the parent. A certain level of influence happens with all parenting to some extent, of course, but with a narcissistic parent who allows for no boundaries between them and you (you are, in their world, an extension of themselves, a little like an ‘object’ they own) it can take such a damaging/all-embracing form that patterns can be set up for a life-time. Many who have grown up with this will go on to have relationships with narcissists, who have similar behavioural traits to the parent, thereby continuing the abusive dynamic with which they are so familiar.

This often means the caring, giving partner easily dismisses the abuse (oh, they’re wonderful really, they don’t mean it, if only you really knew them like I do, it’s my job to ensure they are happy, it was my fault, they need me’ etc etc) taking on board and internalising, over and over again, the subtle insults (which grow less and less subtle over time), the dishonestly, hurtfulness, blatant lying, rage attacks, shaming, blaming, dumping of their own black crap onto you, violence, tantrums, gas-lighting, disrespect of any boundaries, projection and telling you ‘you’re ill’, stonewalling, use of ‘double-binds’ (conflicting messages creating a ‘no win’ situation, causing confusion and anxiety), using children as emotional pawns and crutches, claiming their alcoholism, addictions, issues, their rage etc etc as ‘Your’ fault…and ‘Can’t you Fucking SEE that!!!!??’ and this can lead to the response, ‘Oh I’m so sorry that I’ve upset you, I’ll make amends… I know you love me really... you do...don’t you?’, on the floor, desperately searching for crumbs of affection.

Quite often the ‘charm’ – a manipulative tool – and show of adoration in the beginning sweeps you off your feet and is as false as the tears they shed when they sob ‘no-one understands me’ which makes you feel empathy and sympathise… and keeps you stuck….and so the dance continues… Others wonder why you don’t leave, change, but you are blinded by this limited lens, cut off, manipulated so well in this painful drama, which often isn’t seen on the outside by others, and is so hard to explain.

And not only that, but there’s the quashing and sometimes ridiculing of your natural light, your beauty, warmth, joy, positivity, empathy for others, curiosity, creativity and love as ‘idiotic’, ‘wrong’ and not important, or it can be ‘claimed’ by the other, so that it is not, and never was, your own (they just cannot seem to experience these things for themselves) to the point where you curl up and your light is hidden, unconsciously, and at times consciously, for gentle protection, nurtured, just a tiny free glimmer in its own space, behind years of layers of coping, traumatic experiences and events.

My relationships were like this and it finally took an abusive marriage to wake me up, for which, in the most heart-wrenching, painful, difficult – but understandable way now – I am hugely grateful…however strange that might sound.

I love this quote from the poet Mary Oliver:

‘Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.’
 
This isn’t to condone abuse, ever, but over the last few years, looking into this darkness has helped to shed so much light and has subsequently guided me so beautifully well in my life. I’ve learnt so much, felt so much, met many inspirational people and deeply cherished friends, and have spent time on practices brimming full of self-compassion and self-respect, focusing on love and consciousness, a celebration and unfolding of life, exploring, experimenting, letting go of old limiting beliefs and patterns, establishing new joyous, life-affirming healthy ones and becoming a positive and loving role-model for my son …and so ending the generational legacy of such abusive relationships.
 
The 6 month course, ‘No to Narcissists’ by Caroline Van Kimmenade from The Happy Sensitive appeared, as a gift from grace at exactly the right time and I was hungry and ready for it. I couldn’t believe the perfect timing. And it was a delicious, nutritious, at times necessarily extremely chewy, bitter, sweet and sour, nutty :-), juicy, satisfying, comforting, reassuring, inspiring, surprising, energy restoring - and giving - packed full of wisdom and variety …healthy bar! (If it were a bar :-) I’m surprised at how that analogy began!) And not a snack (although you could focus on little pieces) but a full-to-bursting menu of the most wonderful restorative and insightful information, practices, processes and support that you can imagine.

It changed my life …and, more than anything, the Narcissism issue is secondary for me now, as the course opened up a million more important and fascinating things, on getting to know myself, building confidence, loving my sensitivity for the strength it is, working with vulnerability, Boundaries!! Boundaries, little and big!!  (beautiful and wonderful and full of self-knowledge, self-compassion and respect), meeting wonderful friends from around the world, sharing, listening, speaking, learning… and now I also have a healthy Narcissist radar and can choose interactions from a wiser place.

Also, being introduced to many other thinkers, writers, practitioners has been invaluable – the course is thorough and intense and so much is generously shared that it becomes a springboard for other discoveries too. There are many articles, audios and videos that I still listen to regularly and I love that I have the course materials and access forever, as I enjoy returning to parts and reassessing, ever-learning and there is always relevance to different aspects in my life.

Due to this course, the wonderful support and the changes that occurred within me, I was also able to establish my new creative art business ‘Rowena Scotney Feltings’ which is going from strength to strength and which I could never have done before. At the time it was terrifying, being seen, coming out of hiding, putting my work ‘out there’ but now it is the source of so much pleasure and achievement, a space where I celebrate joy, colour, poetry, nature and life.

Whilst taking the course I wrote copious notes and 100s of desktop post-its, responses, thoughts, ideas, and it was fascinating to revisit these both throughout the duration of the course and over the last few years. I could clearly see how I’d changed, so very much, with growth and new understanding …and I gently care a great deal for the ‘me’ who wrote the first ones :-)

When Caroline Van Kimmenade asked if I’d like my artwork to illustrate a ‘Monthly Calendar and Notes’ booklet to accompany the course, for insights, mood tracking and reminders, I was overjoyed, thankful and honoured. I'm so happy to be associated with this programme, for the journey, the knowledge, the experiential learning and fundamentally for what it stands for, for me: a positive life force celebration, a refusal to be quashed, a wise-ing up and an honouring of the gift of sensitivity for the strength it is - all qualities that I celebrate in my life and creative work and will be exploring further and sharing in the future, with new projects and ideas.

If anything resonates with you here, I'd love to hear... and please do check out The Happy Sensitive for a wealth of wonderful resources.

…And here it is!

Thank you to The Happy Sensitive so amazingly much xx

Ps. I'm happy this post is going out on May Day  - here's to the Spring and the Summer :-) ​
​

Thank you thank you immeasurably Leonard Cohen, I hardly know where to begin, for the light and profound grace, the poetry and music ... the humour too... for the spaces and tones and nuances between the light and dark, their beauty, shapes, playfulness, seriousness, literariness, colour, sparks and excitingly warm possibilities...the spaces I love...  and for helping me for almost 30 years and however many more...

 You are so very present always

To more gentleness and poetry in the world. 

Gentle this soul

'Ahh the crickets are singing
The Vesper bells ringing
​The cat's curled asleep in his chair...

...

She said, "I'll be with you
My shawl wrapped around you
My hand on your head when you go"
And the night comes on
And it's very calm...'


Goodnight Leonard Cohen x
​

                                                                                                
​Leonard Cohen's timeless wisdom on democracy and its redemptions - article by Maria Popova




And...
Pico Iyer on What Leonard Cohen Teaches Us about Presence and the Art of Stillness​

...And on poetry, designing a building...a country and Dylan's 'fading into the parade'. Oh, I love this 10min interview - such beautiful, authentic, aware, wonderful & creative responses...the questions appear to try to label him or box him in, but they stand no chance ...

​'The Guests' with photos by Henri Cartier Bresson...so beautiful
​

Also... another wonderful Leonard interview x

A beautiful sunny Saturday for ​visiting artists' Open Studios - with my son and two borrowed, joyous, energetic dogs! and had a funny, mixed day... with wonderful, inspiring art...

I've been going to the Open Studios for quite a few years, all around Cornwall, and have always loved the diversity of the artists and their work, seeing their processes, working spaces, chatting sometimes -  it's all a privilege and fascinating... and dreaming of maybe taking part one year. Whilst walking around, I was struck again at how such a deep and painful lack of confidence has led me to disregard so much that I've done over the years - including painting, drawing, ceramics, writing, qualifications, teaching, successes...(socialising and speaking were incredibly hard too)... and to feel such a sense of awe for others.

Over the last two years I've started to show some of my feltings, which was  terrifying at first– but alongside other leaps in new, personal understanding, little by little it became easier and the self-admonishment of ‘daring to speak’/having a voice at all has become less and less. At (college) work last week, I thought about how I often dismiss what I do when I say to others, ‘Oh it’s nothing really, just some feltings, some ideas...’, when people ask and especially around ‘real’ artists (as I’ve always thought them, and they are, of course!).

Why do I (still) do this? I am belittling something I care deeply about – my work that is starting to develop and do so well, giving pleasure to others, too, is not 'nothing, really'. My joy is also in the process and in expressing myself with poetry that I’ve always loved and how this has been a continued light for me through some dark times. It needs nurturing, encouragement, belief, respect, kindness and continued curiosity towards new avenues and openings to let it flow and unfold – always a celebration! - and funnily it happens in a space where 'I', the 'conditioned' Rowena am not ... liberating! :-). I feel small and sad when I speak negatively about it, it's like a betrayal, and a shifting of the critical voices from myself to my work, a side-swipe back to me, as ultimately the work just 'is' and happy in itself!  I decided last week that I would not speak negatively about it anymore, but I found today, just days later, that the old instant response jumped in again when an artist was complimentary towards my work.

I have so many ideas to explore and these curl away, grey, unhappy, when I put them down. I felt so sad this afternoon, listening to myself when speaking dismissively...but am aware and so no more! 

And the beautiful dogs...after a few studios and pulling back and fluster - poor Plum and Milo! - they had lots of hugs, tickles and pinecones :-) and then they ran free and happy across the open fields, no constraint, just endless bounding and discovering! Wonderful teachers!

I was wondering whether this resonates with you at all and also, perhaps, how you've learned to overcome it, or work alongside it?...maybe using these feelings and transforming them into a new strength in your work, art, career... life! Please do leave any comments :-) 

I also thought about a recent Radio 4 series and this (really entertaining) episode in particular - Oliver Burkeman on feeling a fraud and how this can constrict you - amongst other things!

​... I also thought about 'The Opening of the Field' - a collection of poetry by Robert Duncan ...and the first poem:


Often I Am Permitted to Return to a Meadow

as if it were a scene made-up by the mind,   
that is not mine, but is a made place,

that is mine, it is so near to the heart,   
an eternal pasture folded in all thought   
so that there is a hall therein

that is a made place, created by light   
wherefrom the shadows that are forms fall.

Wherefrom fall all architectures I am
I say are likenesses of the First Beloved   
whose flowers are flames lit to the Lady.

She it is Queen Under The Hill
whose hosts are a disturbance of words within words   
that is a field folded.

It is only a dream of the grass blowing   
east against the source of the sun
in an hour before the sun’s going down

whose secret we see in a children’s game   
of ring a round of roses told.

Often I am permitted to return to a meadow   
as if it were a given property of the mind   
that certain bounds hold against chaos,

that is a place of first permission,   
everlasting omen of what is.


Robert Duncan, “Often I Am Permitted to Return to a Meadow” from The Opening of the Field. Copyright © 1960 by Robert Duncan. 
Source: Selected Poems (New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1993)

Currently in The Blue Bramble Gallery, St Ives
​

 Inspired by the poem from R.S.Thomas

The Cat and the Sea​
​
It is a matter of a black cat 
On a bare cliff top in March 
Whose eyes anticipate 
The gorse petals; 

The formal equation of 
A domestic purr 
With the cold interiors 
Of the sea's mirror.

Even though I thought of this poem at the time, the felting was of a Summer scene (and featured my Silver cat) and so i made a note, that I need to return in March and try to capture the formal equation :-) ... featuring Archy, a beloved black cat ...