Tag: Mosaic

Happy New Year 2023!!!

With each new year comes a brand new book with blank pages just waiting to be filled, and I wonder what the new year will bring. In many ways, 2022 has been bursting with creativity, and it has been fun looking back on some of the highlights.

Most recently, it’s been wonderful to see my piece, Desert Flower, exhibited with Art Show International.

I often think that the process of creating my intricate, hand-painted mosaics, is as much a part of the art as the end result, and this one holds particular personal significance, as it was painted while staying with my dad when he was ill. The patience involved in the painstaking process of painting mosaic effect is something I know he would have appreciated. Art is significant, in all its forms. The smallest book can be the greatest gift. A painting can hold a world. Desert Flower was inspired by the deserts of Sudan, which I maintain great fondness for, from when I lived there many years ago. It’s a place that inspired another painting, Tuti Island. Deserts and the life I found there, also find their way into my stories:

‘The line of the horizon transformed into great mountainous peaks, cloaked in shades of orange with the setting of the sun. It was almost dark by the time we reached the first slopes on a path that abruptly grew steep. In the shadow of splintering crags and sheer cliff faces we meandered narrow paths, the soft thumps of the camels’ padded feet, and occasional whip cracks echoing around deep canyons. Like the desert, this was a barren landscape. I thought of the stories I had grown up with, thought of the picture my great grandmother had painted, and imagined a time when people had climbed these same mountain passes on a pilgrimage, imagined their footsteps still echoing where camels now trod.’ Return of the Mantra

My life is also enriched by the creative endeavours of others, in all its artforms, which in turn inspires me to continue finding routes to share my own. My re-kindled passion for poetry saw me invited to be featured poet for the night at a local favourite open mic event, which was great fun.

And of course it has been great to get out and about with my books, Blood Gift Chronicles, either in person, or online (thank you Covid!). And, as is customary, the new year will begin with scheduling for more, so plenty to look forward to.

In contrast, it’s always good to take the time for some R&R and a breath of fresh air. I’ll leave you with some photos of a recent trip to Haldon forest, where scores of real-life Xmas trees live, watched over by a robin or two.

Wishing Everyone a Happy, Healthy & Peaceful New Year…

xxx

Tuti Island

More news from September and this time from my world of art, with my painting, ‘Tuti Island’ appearing in the Menduina Schneider 6th Salon of Painting.

It’s wonderfully inspiring to exhibit alongside such a diverse range of international artists, and this piece, from my hand-painted mosaic collection, holds significance since it tells the personal story of a turtle I once met while living in the Sudan.

To listen to the story, click here for the you tube video. Read on for the extended version:

Happy Reading!

 

Tuti Island

In the shade of a steel truss bridge she stands,

On a not-so-deserted strip of sand,

Red fiery sun akin to warm Sudanese smiles,

At this place of confluence of the Blue and White Nile,

Behind her, Khartoum, a tale of two rivers,

And bustling streets, but her gaze drifts and lingers,

As young lads fish a turtle to torment,

She walks over to barter with intent.

 

Downriver she finds a secluded spot,

A safe place where the turtle won’t be recaught,

The turtle looks on at the water with longing,

But ‘Khawaja’, ‘foreigner’, the boys are calling.

In the mid-day sun, she heads further downstream,

Past crocodile watchers, asleep, so it seems,

Nervous, she casts an eye on the water,

Boys still following, unfazed by danger.

 

Her basket rustling, she heads for home,

Across the White Nile bridge to Omdurman.

Her sink becomes a makeshift pond,

For a turtle, of which she grows so fond.

When its skin begins to flake and dry,

She rubs fish oil into its leathery hide,

Days pass and still no-where to go,

With a turtle who needs a river for home.

 

Bemused smiles from friends sipping mint tea,

To see a turtle burrowing beneath her knees,

After call for prayer customary tales are whispered,

Of friends and neighbours disappeared,

Her heart aches for Aameira, never to return,

Brother and child left with hearts that burn,

Tears shed for the sorrow caused by those holding sway,

With check points and rifles never far away.

 

A maze of souks with brightly coloured tobes,

Great bowls of coffee beans, dates, cinnamon and cloves,

Shared trays of fuul beans laden with chilli and salt,

A taste for this staple, she has got.

Then finally news of a place,

A stretch of river where the turtle will be safe,

Basket full they leave the bustling streets,

Untempered by the stifling heat.

 

A boat ride to Tuti island she lands,

At the shore she gazes at the turtle, her friend.

Before releasing it to swim to its hearts content,

She’s taken aback by her own gushing sentiment,

And the turtle catches her by surprise,

Ducking under her skirt, reluctant to break ties,

Until finally it swims away,

And she stands alone, feeling emotions sway.

 

Time to leave this fertile shore, she knows,

But falters when a trail of bubbles show,

It couldn’t be… but then a head poked out,

This was a friendship she could not doubt.

It’s okay to go, she gently said,

Unmoved, the turtle raised its head,

The woman smiled and gently sighed,

In return, the turtle blinked its eyes.

When finally they parted ways,

She wiped away a tear that strayed,

Thoughts of women declaring with knowing smiles,

‘Nothing washes tired skin better than the Nile,’

 

Quiet Reflections for a New Decade

Tuti Island

Two decades ago, or thereabouts, I was in the Sudan. Last year, after returning my revised manuscript to the publishers, I thought about a snippet from life in North Africa, and a place called Tuti Island. The snippet begins with a walk along the river Nile, where I spotted some boys tormenting a small turtle they had fished. Feeling sorry for the turtle, and possibly unwisely, I handed over a few Sudanese pounds in exchange for the turtle. I headed off down the river, intending to release it, but everywhere I went, the curious boys followed. Unable to find a quiet spot, I took the turtle home, filled the sink with water and stones, and fed it flakes of fish. It wasn’t ideal, but then I heard about Tuti Island, a nearby place which friends were sure would offer a quiet spot for releasing the turtle. So one day I put the turtle in my basket, caught a bus, then a boat, arriving at the small island situated where the White Nile and Blue Nile meet. I found a deserted strip of sand, placed my turtle in the water, and watched it swim to freedom.

I never forgot that island, or the colours and designs the Sudan inspired. And so my recent painting is titled ‘Tuti Island’.

Christmas and New Year have been a series of quiet reflections. Following a year of ill health and loss, it’s a comfort to slow things down, to take deliberate note of the small details, and breathe the fresh air. With its dark evenings, crisp air and sodden ground, winter feels like the perfect time to just take the time, to take stock, to gain a wider perspective, to remember that the moment is now to create what we choose.

As a writer who also indulges in painting, I am no stranger to the blank page, and the blank canvas. And yet perhaps it’s never really blank to start with. We create, and we recreate, capturing moments, thoughts and lives we’ve known and returning them to us in fresh new forms.

The last decade saw my first novel published, the new decade promises more. So much of Return of the Mantra was inspired by life in Africa: people, places, situations I had known, recreating the real into an almost unrecognisable fantasy. The Warder picks up the story ten years on, and by this time it really does have its own life and momentum. I was particularly encouraged to see a recent comment on Twitter from a reader, saying how much they loved the character, Wanda. He was inspired by orphaned children I had known, out of a desire to create an unlikely hero, a gifted young boy. In book 2, aged 18, Wanda takes a more prominent role. Together with his female counterparts they are exposed to a land beyond their shores, and so continues their journey in understanding that the world is not a dichotomy of black and white, good and evil. Rather, it is shades of grey, cause and effect, where personal growth and self-discovery are essential in realising the effect each character has. Not too unlike the real world.

And on that note I wish you a Happy New Year and a peaceful new decade.