Two posts in one day is ridiculous I know, but there’s a lot going on here. Last night we had the opening of Fabrik. Today, on the eve of the equinox, there is something else to reveal.
Let me tell you how it came about. While choosing a palette Atlantic from Deep Deep Light that would reflect the seasons of mists and golden fields and ripe apples and cool swims in the for the participants in the upcoming retreat in Bretagne I found myself carried away by a virtual wander through their catalogue, lightheartedly created a palette I called ‘tidewanderings’ and sent it to them with a little story just for their amusement.
It was rather a delightful surprise when an email came back suggesting they could put the palette together and offer it on their website.
You may wonder why someone whose life work has revolved around making prints on cloth from leaves would need watercolours. I will explain.
The thing is that when I am sewing or making dye bundles or managing a cauldron or walking somewhere to gather leaves, my neurodivergent brain races around much like a Border Collie, considering possibilities and turning over ideas and wondering ‘what if’ and then exploring that. The little grey cells get a lot of exercise most of the time. I’ve tried meditating in order to attempt to give my mind a rest but so far I have not been able to make it work for me. The only time things seem to calm between my ears is when I pick up a paintbrush.
I was introduced to watercolour as a child, and since then have always had small collections of them about me. Discovering Deep Deep Light through the exquisite work of Jackie Morris (to whom I was led by author Robert Macfarlane) was a veritable revelation. Their colours are magical, and dance with each other in interesting ways. Some granulate. They have a gentle scent redolent of a forest near a river that is flowing to the sea. I love them.
I like drawing flowers, making puddles on pages and adding colour to the words I scribble in my notebooks; but what I find most calming and satisfying (other than actual tidewandering along a coast somewhere) is drawing imaginary or remembered shorelines and losing myself in them with pools of watery paint. In these moments everything that has been churning in my head seems to fall quiet, and I’m able to simply watch the colours conversing on the page. Half an hour of quiet painting, whether actually by the ocean (or simply there in my imagination) makes me a much nicer person to be around.
I’ve had the joy of testing these lovely colours on half a dozen different paper types, ranging from ‘proper’ watercolour, to tiny hand-formed Japanese cards, to recycled books. They are delicious on all of them.
‘tidewanderings’
a palette that sings a quiet story of
being on the edge of the land
cooling your toes where a river meets the sea and
the dark water from the forests slips
into the welcoming embrace of the blues
where tiny shells gleam underfoot
sea glass pearls wink between perfectly polished pebbles
driftwood asks to be gathered and maybe
a fragment of amber dreams of being found
by a gentle wanderer strolling a sandy shore
colours that will conjure the sounds of the ocean
whether you are standing on the sands or
sailing your armchair, the wind in your hair
the smell of salt and spices on the breeze
selkie-songs on the tip of
your tongue
Here they are, being blessed by the Baltic.
I will be unwrapping my set in France at the end of the coming week…they are patiently waiting for me there.
Awaken your watercolours with a drop or a spritz of water. Lift them to your nose to smell their lovely scent, and then dip your brush in to be transported.
I know you will love them as much as I do.
When I am at home, I save the water from rinsing my brushes and let the granules of colour settle to the bottom, before pouring off the clear part from the top (it can take a few days), then I’ll often begin a new painting using a wash of whatever colour remains on the floor of the jar.
See that coppery shimmer on the top of the water? That tells us there is real indigo in those blues…
What’s in it for India? is a question you may reasonably be asking at this point. Just as with my collaborations with Maiwa, no money changes hands, but I do benefit from being gifted a set of these exquisite colours (and I receive lovely samples from Maiwa), while my students in paid classes at the School of Nomad Arts benefit from a 10% discount from both businesses (and from Beautiful Silks)…and I have the deep satisfaction of being connected with kindred spirits through our shared passions.
If you’ve paid for a subscription here, friends, you’ll find the discount code below.