I always feel I have to apologise for my non art college background, but I did have a go at being a crafter in my late teens ... my Occupational Therapy training was so long ago that it included applying different arts and crafts to the therapeutic setting, although I really was rubbish at it. The making that is .. sadly I never worked in a post that properly involved applying it. To receive the instruction at the beginning of a Thursday afternoon art class back in 1978 to make a 3D paper sculpture, triggered the flight centre in my brain. Should have watched more Blue Peter I thought. As it turned out less Blue Peter and more imagination would have been much better. It doesn’t matter how many paper tubes you make. You will never get them to look like a donkey (I know.. donkey??) Well done on the parrot Alison McKee. No really .. well done.
Then at the ripe old age of 50 I started playing about with illustrations .. illustrations that I could reproduce fairly quickly for the purpose of selling greetings cards.
I still illustrate each and every card by hand .. so I restrict selling them to my markets and one retail outlet.
It seems flowers are my thing and at 55, when I retired properly from OT, I decided to learn how to make ceramic flowers. I attended a class run by two local ceramicists who taught me the rules of clay. I quickly discovered there are no rules to clay .. well . at least not in my experience. I subsidised this time with seasonal horticultural work in a beautiful nursery within the grounds of Mountstewart Estate .. pricking out real flowers in hot greenhouses (rose tinting there .. not always hot), eating Pot Noodles for lunch (sorry) and getting spadefuls of compost under my finger nails. This special time has had to be my inspiration even if its IMPOSSIBLE to replicate nature.
Then the struggle to source a second hand kiln .. and second hand kilns are like gold dust. How and ever, you find ceramicists are so very helpful and Patricia Millar Ceramics (recently starring on Country File .. ok ..name dropping here) alerted me to a kiln going free to a good home, just down the road. To be honest, when I first saw it, it appeared to my uneducated eye to be well past its sell by date but Patricia assured me that it was perfect. So with the help of 3 strong grumbling men, a manual forklift, a steep drive, nerves of steel and the promise of lots of Guiness we got it into my garage. I named my kiln Molly, after Moly, a plant in Greek mythology like a snowdrop greekmythology.wikia.org/wiki/Moly_Plant (thank you Donna and Mac for the research) and I am so very fond of her, old and rusty as she is. My joint X-rays would look just the same. By the way, that pole in the picture is just keeping the bung in place (I dropped and damaged it same day I got it).. it is not keeping the kiln upright.
I was thrilled to be asked to join the North Down Craft Collective which gave me the opportunity to be part of a monthly market. A group of like minded people who help each other develop and evolve. I just love it! Thomas Powell Pottery from the collective has designed little vases just for my flowers. I also have a significant range in 3 wonderful outlets .. Doghouse Gallery in Comber, 2020 Art in Whitehead and The Craft Room in my home town of Newtownards.
I won’t mention the disc protrusions in my neck from prolonged stooping, or all the late nights and the 7 day weeks. Or the flower rejects. It goes with the territory .. and I love this territory I somehow managed to stumble upon.
I will however mention with gratitude the help and mentoring I receive from my very dear clever friend Donna, also from the beautiful Ards Peninsula, who I met whilst working in the nursery, who always keeps me focused and with whom I share a glass of wine and nibbles on a Thursday evening in her garden summerhouse ... in the guise of business development ... surrounded by birds, butterflies, lavender, bees, wildflowers, vegetables, fruit trees, lots of grass, rabbits, badgers, squirrels .. attempting to put life into some kind of philosophical perspective ... oh how we laugh!