it's been a while
Good things come to those that wait. I have waited and waited, sometimes patiently sometimes not.
I had always hoped and dreamed that I would live one day in a house with a view of the sea. It was that childhood notion that never left, I just had to believe I could make it happen.
That day arrived, seemingly quickly despite the 40+ years wait and now here I sit staring at the Atlantic Ocean and a sky that is in constant flux.
I can hear the waves, the seals, the birds, the wind and I know we are home.
We arrived on Westray tired to the bone after 3 horrible years in the city, inhaled the clean air and exhaled the detrius of all that had gone before.
My new studio is complete and I’m easing myself back into daily practice. Finding my new routines and rituals. How many cups of tea I can drink before actually getting on with work for the day. I’ve settled in with stitch, making myself warm overalls and bits for the house. My comfort zone, the place that I can control, the one thing I could do with closed eyes and know that it will be fine. Although I have the knowledge now that my neurodiverse brain can be a tricky sucker I still have to navigate the massive crashes in confidence that the learning curve takes you on and still with clay even though I've a few years under my belt, an MA in the bag, I’m a newbie, but with cloth, with thread I am safe.
Island life is interesting. Working out how things tick here takes time, getting supplies to the island hasn’t been as difficult as imagined although it does take some extra work to find those suppliers that will bend over backwards to accommodate and those that just quote ridiculously stupid carriage costs because they just can’t be bothered with the effort. Everything is slow nothing is rushed. That suits.
One of the major factors that brought us here to Westray other than the ebb and flow of the tides is the light. The light on Orkney is captivating, ever changing, moody, grim, gentle but dramatic.
If it were possible just to sit and watch the sky and do nothing else there would never be a dull moment.
Of course we are yet to survive our first winter, there have been many dire warnings about how tough it gets, how the days are short and the winds are strong. Living in the shadow of a mountain with very cold, very blustery, very damp winters for 20 years has given me a resilience that I hope will serve us well here. The pantry is filling up nicely, I'm getting grips with freezer management again and I even managed to plant a few late vegetables.
Most importantly my studio has a pot belly stove. I am not sure if it will suffice for the long winter but it’s got a chance to prove itself before being retired. Unless it rusts to pieces first.
So there it is...there is much to do, new work needs making. More to come about how and when I am going to sell my beautiful bowls and not hoard them all. There are many of you that have been waiting patiently, very patiently for quite some time. I haven't forgotten who you are.
First task is to set up a mailing list for those who want early access and to keep up with progress.
On that note I will round up this post and thank you kindly for making it this far.