Fund-Free Fun: A Little Inspiration For Creating In Frugal Times!

 

 The pandemic of 2020-2021 may have had its many frightening horrors, but one good thing it brought us was the government furlough scheme, which allowed my husband to stay at home safely with me. We enjoyed that time together so much as we are both naturally antisocial people, passing many hours with him in his garden and me in my studio. Time to play, to take our minds of bigger problems and focus on our own little universe.

    Money was tight as my work dwindled to zero and Glynn's wages took a hit so there was no extra to spend on supplies and little treats. The thing is, that to most artists the leaner days are pretty much a standard affair. Our wishlists may make us look like we're near-terminal hopeful Rockerfellers, but in reality we're usually reduced to that squeeze and scrape activity that is the 'making do' with the almost empty tubes and pots of dribblesome gunk that we've had for years. As my Grandmother would always say, "Necessity is the mother of invention."

    So I thought I'd share a couple of projects here that were good fun when the world stood still - a distraction that proved that art isn't about money or endless supplies, but more about using your own creativity to produce something from ingenuity, a sense of fun and the things you already have around you.

 

    This  here thingy was a thoroughly enjoyable little project that used up odds, ends and scraps. It really had no purpose other than, well...fun! 

    It started off as an old box from my incense sticks, cut, trimmed and prepped with black gesso. One side was to be covered with some designer paper from my [worryingly/satisfyingly substantial] stash, and the other prepped with old saved tissue paper and squidged acrylic painty base:

 

    Messy old fun.....

    Joyous texture - is there anything more satisfying?

    Everything from hereonin was just ...fun. I didn't take pictures of every step, but it wasn't complicated. I used the base as a template to cut three paper pieces which I glued onto the scrappy prepped base, then used the remnants of the acrylic paint to grunge up the edges. I had a fancy to make it look like a prop map from an old adventure movie... I LOVE those things!

    The fastening is just a circle cut from leftover cardboard covered in more leftover paint. It's glued to the top flap and two slots cut into the overlap part allow the ribbon to be threaded through, wrapped round and tied. The ribbon's an old salvaged bit of sari silk.

     I glued a couple of lengths of waxed linen thread under that cardboard disc and ferreted about in my spare beads 'n' bits drawer for some pretty twinklies to thread thereon, because there's no downside to sparkles and shiny things! I glued a couple of my [again - thousands of] hoarded pre-cut embellishments onto the back, all grunged up with increasingly dwindling paintyness that was rapidly drying in the summer heat...

    A few little faceted gems glued on, and a little heart - again made from offcuts and painted - finished things off nicely.

    The inside painting was, well, you can see.....a mermaid. I do love a mermaid! Painting/drawing/making them just makes me happy!

    She's painted with acrylic paints of varying brands.  I didn't plan her or sketch her, I just let the paint find its shape, so she's not perfect but she's fun so I love her.

    Her scales are spotted and splattered metallic shimmer paints and her shading/outline is made using Derwent Inktense pencils and a bit of water. The textured peaks in the basecoat of tissue paper are picked out a little with gilding wax (Treasure Gold) and a little very runny mica shimmer paint.

 

 

 

     Hearts float in bubbles surrounding my mermaid, matching the one she holds close to her chest. They're painted in acrylic again, with Inktense pencil and a white gel pen. 

 

    Looking at this, I think its meaning is open to interpretation - the fun of painting intuitively! I think I chose subconsciously to represent isolation and the loss of so many souls in this piece. I just painted - the mediums chose the outcome, I swear!

    I really enjoyed this project and it cost me absolutely nothing. I like things even better when they cost me nothing....AND upcycle rubbish!  

    I hope you like this and that maybe you might be inspired to have a rummage about your home and workspace and see what you can reuse and repurpose into something colourful and fun. Save your pennies - we're all feeling the cost of living pinch! Have fund-free fun and celebrate creativity for creativity's sake!

    Thank you for visiting - please say hello and if you like this post maybe have a look through the blog and maybe follow me to see upcoming rambles and colourful distractions! Much love - Shroo xxx

An Abstract Foundation

 

 

 

    In pursuing the path back into painting, I'm finding - as I always do - that leaning into the abstract is what calls to me. It's more loose, more free, more visceral. I get to FEEL the paint and the various other mediums that speak to me in the moment, and enjoy the textures and the chance combinations that are never the same twice. 

     When I was a kid I hated finger painting. Obsessed as I was with cleanliness and neatness, the idea of touching paint or chalk threw me into a very literal panic. All these - way too many - years later, I can hardly believe the pure joy it brings me to fold myself into the paints and powders and feel at one with the piece that I create. I find that I dont even care what it looks like - it's abstract and random, a product of emotion rather than planning. It's just....fun. Layer upon layer, I finish when it FEELS right rather than when it looks right.

 

 

     Once everything's dried and set solid, I can go back and explore it like a landscape. Invariably these cards and canvases become backgrounds for a more defined piece, but that sense of freedom and artistic adventure seems to determine the outcome, removing that feeling of compulsive and debilitating control that leads to artist's block and leaving me free to just...make....play....work...create. 

  

     So - get the foundation right, and the whole process becomes more organic and satisfying. Sounds like a life lesson to me...! 

 

 

     Anyway - I feel like some company, so here's one of my background-scapes with all its peaks and troughs for you to romp through. It's with it's sisters right now, awaiting its final purpose, but in the meantime it's still a glorious happy place for me to visit and bury myself in its layers and random textures

 

Alarming Lumps

When life gives you lumps, make journal pages.

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     Well it makes sense to me... And it's true - there are times when an art journal page can be the best gateway for self expression and catharsis. The awesome thing about art journaling is that there are no rights or wrongs, no judgement and no rules. Grab a piece of paper, card, slow moving child, very tired lion and decorate it with all manner of shiny things until it represents or reflects your mind/heart/dreams/state of being/craving for chocolate/desire to instigate a zombie apocalypse and hey presto! You've taken something abstract and ephemeral and given it form and substance.

     This is my page of cacti....big, pointy, spiky things with lumps. They're not everybody's cup of sneaky Irish coffee, but I love the prickly critters. They may look like angry harbingers of stabby pain, but just when things may be at their worst, as rain pours down from stormy skies, beautiful flowers in the brightest most glorious hues burst forth from the ugly and alarming lumps, turning the darkest day into a carnival and colour - hope and joy from something so intimidating.

     .....When I paint a page like this I have no real idea how or why I choose the direction and the form. I make marks that make me feel better, that provide affirmation and release. Only when the page is complete can I sit back and take stock, view it as a whole and finally find the meaning. It's not a process that suits everyone, I know, but to go with the flow - to allow the process to lead me rather than trying to force my hand to interpret my fluid mind - just works for me.  So, when I paint a page of lumpy cacti the day before I go for an emergency mammogram, having found a lump in my booby-boob, I just have to appreciate how this whole thing works. I painted the flowers.

     Cancer took my family, my pets, my friends. It is my nemesis and I hate it with a vengeance. The feeling that it may have gained a foothold inside my body isn't easily put into words. But I can paint a picture... At face value it means nothing to anyone but me, but isn't that the point? Finishing it last night somehow made me ready to face today, ready for a showdown if one be needed. I had made my mark - a part of me existed outside of myself in defiance of the alien existing unidentified within me. My cacti have big spikes; I see them as a "fuck you" to the possibility of cancer breaching my defenses. I have felt small and afraid, but I am strong and spiky, and I bloom brightly in the harshest of environments.

     I do NOT have cancer. My lump is benign - a zombie in my chest, but one that's likely harmless. I have more check-ups, but cancer can't touch me right now. My spiky defenses are in place and holding and my colours aren't dimmed....not for an instant. Fuck you, cancer.

     I have a vegan zombie boob. Hurrah for vegan zombie boobs! I may paint a version, I may not....knowing me I will actually paint my actual boobs - something that I assure you will most definitely NOT be appearing on a blog post! Art is self-expression as much as it is skill, style and technique. Long live every page, every graffiti-adorned majestic lion, every be-glittered toddler...long live every mark we make....we give them worth, they give us meaning. May we bloom like a cactus. May our strength be our beauty. Kick arse, we're awesome.

Lord Of The Shrews

The early days of this new year bring chills, frosts, windy gusts and now and then, a perfect still and pristine night. Stars glitter in diamond scatters on a velvet sky, the sound of nocturnal wildlife carries for miles echoing eerily in the night. 

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     Husband has decided to have the first bonfire of the year. The incinerator is expertly stacked with combustibles in well organised layers, the ground cleared and finally the fire is ignited....a flash - a spark - then the first crackle of tinder accompanies the flickering firelight, illuminating the blackness with a primordial glow.

     Husband watches, assessing the furnace with a professional eye. At the perfect moment, he steps back and nods just once, satisfied that all is well, then turns and trudges across freezing earth towards the light from the kitchen door, clapping gloved hands together to recover some warmth until a mug of hot coffee can restore life back to his fingers. The door closes, and Husband and Wife retire together to relax watching tv in the living room.

     All is perfect. All is quiet. All is still. All is......

     .....the sound of drums......ancient sounds of primeval tradition. The sound of paws beating a rhythm on frost-hardened ground brings a wild magic to the night and shadows begin to dance across the lawn, the fences, the hen house, the cracked and painted panels of the old work shed. Some magic is afoot...some enchantment born of ancient rites.... It is the time honoured Roasting Of The Shrews! Spoken of in unlit places.....whispered only by those who know.....

     The cats have joined forces. Their warders are fooled, not noticing the strange draft emanating from behind the the enormous Raquel Welsh poster on the wall, knowing nothing of the tunnel leading to freedom and the dance of destiny which now whirls and spirals around the living flame. Outside, for miles around, shrews cling together, quaking at the sounds that herald inevitable doom. Their days are numbered, for Leonidas of Wickham has been summoned, his power undeniable, his presence overpowering, as he steps forward into the light and utters the awesome words of prophecy:

     "Hellooooo! Are there any sausages?"
 
     Wise old Gizmo sits upon his makeshift throne and watches the Champion with a drifting gaze. Now all he can think about is.... sausages. In the bordering fields, the shrews feel a flicker of hope - a glimmer of opportunity.....escape!  With Missy distracted by the robust rum and catnip punch, only the miniature Sapphira follows the path, the spare chicken coop already lined with plastic sheeting and the tools sharpened and laid out in grim and deadly glinting lines. A feline mincing machine, ecstatic in her enclosed psychosis, nothing can stand in her way! Shrew sausages..... she smiles as the marketing opportunities for organic local produce open up a world of possibilities! An island....a lair.....a shark tank and a laser to write her name on the moon! ALL THE CATNIP IN THE WORLD!!! Now a new sound, high pitched and piercing overrides the ominous drums, making dogs howl and bats drop their moths:

     "Mooowahahahahaaaaa.....MOOOwwaaHHaaaaaahaaaHHAAHAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

*  *  *

Welcoming 2020 with the first kitty pic of the decade. For those who would like to note supplies, I used Winsor and Newton watercolours, Derwent Inktense bars, black Indian ink, pearlescent Cosmic Shimmer watercolour paints, white gel pen and gold Winsor and Newton metalic ink. And yes, I had to include my other old man, Harvey, watching over all us and telepathically ordering his brothers and sisters to gather ALL the blankies  and ALL the cushions and, darlings, order the pate de foie gras and the Chablis with your own fair paws...otherwise it's the prescription nippity bikkies AGAIN!

Harvey's Farewell

      It's in my nature to record life events....usually art is my expressive medium of choice.

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     I worked on this piece on Harvey's last day, while Daddy had to go to his outside job and my little fluffball lay beside me, snuggled in a warm blanket, in between worlds.

     He sits perched on a velvet stool, surrounded by cushions while his brothers and sisters shower him with love. Martini in paw and taffeta bow tie catching the twilight rays of sun, he is a dapper old chap, sounding a little bit Noel Coward, dear boy as he bids farewell to his earthly domain to travel through rainbow clouds where those that went before await his magnificence with open arms. That big sparkly sequin-scattered heart represents my theatrical mother who I know will be his eternal slave, feeding him turkish delight and fine truffles until Pimm's o'clock, when the party always begins.

     This process is cathartic and soothes my spirit. It's a way to move on, not leaving things behind, just finding storage for memories in a safe place accessible any time as I continue on my journey.

     I don't know why, but even the hardest things and the most raw and painful shards of broken emotion draw bright colours from me and I am compelled to reach for sparkles, mica glitter shades of wonder and glistening golds. This illustration was laid down in black Indian ink, Winsor and Newton watercolours, enhanced with Derwent Inktense pencil, cosmic shimmer water soluble mica paints, Golden acrylics, Winsor and Newton gold ink and white gel pen. I'm VERY happy with it. Husband has decreed that it will be framed and go up on our wall of pet tributes and every time I pass I will see all my babies, past and present surrounded by bright happy rainbow light. And it will make me smile.