Tag Archives: memory

Nostalgia at Christmas: Sketches from Spain

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Last week I was reminded of my sketch trip to Spain in 2019, and I went looking for the sketchbook I’d used at the time. Previous to leaving, I’d joined a travel sketching group, and in preparation we were asked to choose something to sketch from a favourite place we’d visited. So I chose a photo taken twenty years earlier from the cathedral Sagara Família in Barcelona.

I was high in a tower which overlooked the city and focussed on the sculptured doves in front of me. I used water-soluble ink for the foreground. It’s wise not to load the brush with too much water when you pick up the ink pigment. I used a diluted watercolour for the background.

Some Images from the sketching trip to follow

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A memorable read

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Recently I began helping out at a second-hand bookshop, and came across Memoirs of a Geisha, by Arthur Golden. The title was familiar, but after reading the foreword, decided I’d missed reading it somehow. It was published in 1998, three years before I went to live and work in Japan.

I knew little of the country when I arrived, but when It came to time leave, the place and its people were a part of me.

I made close friends, and was invited into their homes, to enjoy meals, attend art classes, and cultural events – such as New Year celebrations and rituals. These memories floated through my thoughts as I read Memoirs of a Geisha.

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Well, there is a little progress

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Original rough, left side of double page spread

Last time I talked about my memoir with pictures, I showed a few pencil sketches of some pages I had nutted out. I have now sketched more pages, attempting to make a storyboard of the tales I wished to tell, or portray. This bit was easy. I love sketching in pencil and plotting scenarios based on my experiences when young, that was no trouble what so ever.

I studied other graphic novels to get a feel with how I wanted mine to look: a mixture of double pages in colour or black and white, and several pages with smaller images, as you might see in a comic, with speech bubbles etc., But then, I decided I should do at least one trial page in full colour as I imagined the larger pages should look. But, what medium to use?

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Back to the memoir in pictures

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You may have thought I’d never get going on this idea of a memoir of me as a youngster. True, I didn’t get far, but there were other things I had to do. But now I have looked through my initial rough sketches, and have decided to show them to you, I feel it is a small start. My plan, from here on in, is to complete a couple of images in colour on good paper, using watercolour and pencil, as a trial for the finished product. Today however, it’s just more pencil roughs. Except for the photo of me, left, taken on a Brownie camera in the 1950’s. Yes, I’m that old.

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A bit of this and that, or a memoir in pictures

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Possible wrap around cover featuring ME!

This week I started in on some pencil roughs intended for the future graphic novel. Everything is guesswork on my part, completely experiential, as it’s the first time I’ve embarked upon this genre. Over the months I have picked up and examined many graphic novels, by women, mostly. This has been such an interesting exercise, as they are so different from each other and all brilliant.

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The things we do

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It’s been a very busy time with family staying (there were many spread over the weeks), and me working on promotional material for my novel throughout to meet the publicist’s deadlines. But there were nice moments, like drinking Prosecco on the patio with family. It was a brother-in-law who spotted the clay forms clumped on the outside table, and said “what are these?” “You may well ask? I replied. “I made them years ago, as part of my teaching degree.” I was a late starter regarding my education, and began this, my first degree, at fifty. And although I had been tutoring art to adult students for years before this, I decided to give academia a go.

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Occasion markers

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Great Stupa at Kathmandu, Nepal

I love the way something you buy, whether travel mementos, or presents received or given, stand as markers in one’s life. Take the ceramic teapot I’ve decided to sketch (below), which was the first present I gave my husband not long after we’d met. It was April 1992, and I had the great fortune to travel to Nepal on a 29 day trek with three other women from New Zealand; such a fantastic experience. (Link above takes you to a post from a few years back). The day I returned to my hometown, I helped out a friend with an exhibition opening at our art gallery, and there Kerry was, also helping out. We chatted for ages before parting ways, thinking maybe we just might get to chat some more – sometime. And, surprise! surprise, by the end of the year we were chatting a lot.

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Pink roses can spell love too

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Roses by JFL Fowlds

If I hadn’t admired a friend’s post last week, where he posted a fine painting of flowers, I may not have thought of writing about the painting I have sitting on my study wall. There is a history to this painting of pink roses in an old-fashioned vase (circa late 1940s), which was possibly done as a study from an image in a book, or calendar. The book may have well been a ‘how to paint’ variety, showing step by step processes. My father clearly studiously emulated the image – whatever its provenance. The sketch, painted in watercolour on a primed piece of cardboard, was admired by those who saw it, including myself and siblings. I was a teen when my father died, and any art of his carries special meaning.

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An ode to a fruit bowl

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Dear bowl, I love you, with or without fruit. That is because you are both a vessel and an artwork. Some years ago I had the good fortune of working weekends at Palmerston North’s regional art gallery, where local artist Fran Dibble was exhibiting large boldly-painted bowls. What was even more special about these objects is that her potter mother had made the bowls for Fran to paint. Another great combination.

The finished sketch

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Visiting the past

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Lyall Bay looking surprisingly calm

The trip to Wellington last week catered for two needs; to see my friend Jayne, and to gather research for the book I am writing. Jayne and I met when I lived in the area many years ago. We had a lovely couple of days together, one of which involved Jayne offering to drive me around the areas I wished to research. So, we headed across town, through the ‘tooting’ tunnel and towards Lyall Bay – one of the places the protagonist of my novel lived in the 1970s. I’ve called her Marjorie and she is based on a very complex woman I used to know well. Back then she liked to be called Mother.

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