I am increasingly finding myself drawn to the conclusion that the act of making is also an act of storytelling. A quiet and considered conversation held between material & maker, as an idea slowly comes into being. Once that idea has become material, that conversation then continues to flow, beyond the maker & the walls of the studio, out into the world.
In the past two or so years that I’ve been publicly sharing my bear making work online, I’ve experimented with various forms of storytelling, on various platforms. Starting by working through a variety of blogs, as I’ve struggled to settle on a name that sufficiently expresses all I want my work to encompass. And also experimenting with photography & video.
These past years, I have truly enjoyed experimenting with all these paths to self expression, most especially on Instagram. In that particular space, I have found both my self-confidence & my expertise slowly build and grow, nourished by an incredibly supportive community of folks spread across the world. I truly value the connections I’ve woven there, the friends I have made, the opportunities that have sprung forth from those little squares. But increasingly, I’ve also been feeling a growing niggle with the place itself. Whilst I find the excitement & buzz of that particular online gathering spaces to be a source of stimulation & inspiration, since falling pregnant again, I find myself becoming once again particularly fond of those smaller and quieter places of conversation, connection and sharing that can still be found in blogs. Over there it often feels like being at a very crowded, very noisy party, albeit one filled with very kind & lovely folk. There is an energy and a creativity to be found there in the thronging crowd, but recently, I’ve been finding it once again overwhelming and exhausting.
I remember with great fondness to a few years back when I first discovered the online crafting world. And how visiting a favourite blog feels more like being invited round a dear friend’s house for a cup or tea and a knit. A moment to share some meaningful conversations about life & knitting whilst we quietly work on our respective projects. Just as my own blog currently reminds me of an abandoned house, all dusty and untidy having been so long neglected, so sadly many of the online journals of friends & favourites have also been left to languish. And yet.
Despite the dust, I am feeling a deep urge to return to this space, draw back the curtains, fling wide the shutters and let some fresh air back in. My intention, is to come and make this space feel like a home again. And once the cobwebs have been banished, the grate swept and a fresh fire lit in the grate, to start telling some of the stories of making once again.
The tales of what I make, but also how that making enables me to enter into conversations with the world around me, weaving connections with the land base I currently find myself in and the people & animals that populate it.
As a toymaker, there is also an inevitable biographical aspect to my work, as I cannot help but reach deep inside myself finding inspiration in memories & lived experiences. And so over time, I’m sure there will also be stories told about those parts of me that inevitably get woven into my making too.
Within these pages (and also my monthly letters) you will find honest words written from the heart. My thoughts on intentionally slow & sustainable making, my passion for natural fibres (especially wool) and the gentle rhythm that brings the light & shade to our days, shaped by the seasons and guided by a desire to do more with less.
It is my sincere hope that this place will also allow for conversations to open up between me & you. It has been many, many months since I last had the desire, time or energy to regularly sit down and write. But I am so excited to finally settle back in here and begin finding a rhythm that suits.
I’m looking forward to coming here again soon,