Take a deep breath. Wherever you are is where you’re meant to be. It’s the perfect starting place for the journey ahead.
Where do you want to go? All it takes is small, slow steps and you’ll get there.
It’s ok to go slow.
I’m slowly working towards my illustration deadlines. Work is going well, but I’m choosing not to be overwhelmed by complications or setbacks. Slow work is better work, because I can focus on excellence (but not perfection, of course! )
On busy days, instead of letting myself feel overwhelmed by all that needs to be accomplished, i try to focus on small things that give me joy. The fragrant cup of coffee, the perfect pen for the project gliding across the paper in my hands, the soft grey cloud in the sky after a hot, bright weekend. As I move from moment to moment, striking items off my list, those little meditations keep me sane and grounded.
What are some things that are giving you joy today? Let me know below!
I resolved to paint every full moon of 2018, and most of the nights have been cloudy, or stormy, or both. Last night thunder raged through the sky, and I had to cuddle my little three-year-old and sing “I hear thunder” over and over to help her understand that it wasn’t anything to be scared of.
The full moon in May is called the “flower Moon” for obvious reasons. Right now the climbing roses are in full foison, and the lavender is about to bust into purple, heady scent. The garden is reaching for it’s peak, and I’m trying to savour the moment every day. Literally, stop to smell the roses.
Can you stop for a minute today to savour the wonders of the season? We’re doing it by cutting flowers to bring inside, jumping in post-storm rain puddles, and running through the sprinkler when it’s sunny and hot.
Be great in little things. After a week off to tend to a convalescing daughter, I am ready to jump back into my regular routines. But, I’m realizing that I need to focus on little things: small steps. If I think about everything that needs to be done, I freeze like a statue. However, I know that I can be great in the little things. I don’t need to paint a whole picture, I just need to make one brush stroke: and that brush stroke can be great (but of course, never perfect… let’s not fool ourselves).
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Rain is sluicing down the window pain, and thunder is rumbling on the horizon. There is something about rain that immediately gives me perspective. The world shrinks down to what I can see outside my window: water droplets and low clouds. All the extraneous distractions on the horizon are obliterated, and the important things stand out in bright focus.
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Are there a few small things you can do wonderfully well today? Just focus on those, and you’ll go to bed satisfied this evening.
One of the things I look forward every afternoon is my daily FaceTime call with my Mom. We might live3912 miles apart, but we’re connected in spirit all the time. She is my best friend. She is the person I call when I have a random thought, and I need to tell someone. She is the person who understands when days are hard, and laughs when days are good.
I love that we can use our phones, and other digital devices to keep in touch. All those pixels, whooshing through space, transferring energy and love from Canada to England give me so much joy. And the fact that I can connect with all of you friends via a social media app, and share our daily adventures in creativity, gives me such a boost of inspiration every day.
So thank-you, Mom, for always being on the other side of the screen. And thank-you friends, for liking and commenting on my posts, and sharing your wonderful journeys on the internet. It makes the world feel so small and friendly!
This was a two cup of coffee morning.
It’s funny how best-laid plans often get changed at the last minute, isn’t it? I had my whole day organized: from what I was going to draw, to what I was going to buy at the green grocer. Then Mary woke up with a fever, and all those plans flew out the window on the spring breeze.
At first I was panicked. Oh no! So much to do! But that same spring breeze pushed the scent of deep purple lilacs into the house and reminded me to stop and enjoy the moment. The morning was cool and washed-clean after a midnight rain storm. The day might not go as planned, but maybe it would actually be better than I visualized!
I put a load of laundry in the washing machine, which I would hang out to dry later in the lilac scented sunshine. I popped a Care Bears movie in my laptop for Mary to watch while I worked, with her curled on the cushions beside me in my studio. Do you know what? I got more done than I expected! Then we wandered to town to buy more watercolours, have a coffee, and stop by the greengrocer to fetch veggies that aren’t wrapped in plastic.
It was a good day after all! And those two cups of fragrant coffee were the perfect pairing for my revised expectations.
What are you up to today? Is it going as planned?
“Mommy, I’m a real ballerina!” Mary delights in her ballet classes, and tippy-toes and twirls around with joy and abandon. I love being able to record these moments of her life in my sketchbook.
I started sharing my sketches on Instagram shortly after she was born. I felt very isolated, as many new moms do, and I needed a way to connect with the outside world and to re-connect with my creative calling. I challenged myself to do a drawing a day, taking no longer than 15-20 minutes. Of course, I couldn’t manage every day when I started, nor can I manage sketching every day now. At the beginning motherhood was very challenging and often absorbed every minute of the day. Now I’m busy with both motherhood and an illustration career. But I still relish my time sketching in my tiny notebooks.
When I started I never imagined that anyone would follow me, and I’m grateful for every one of you and all the fantastic friendships I’ve made through this journey. I also never imagined that any brands might reach out to me; that was something that only happened to “real” bloggers.
Last week my absolutely favourite pen company, Kuretake, contacted me and asked if they could send me some pens. I was delighted and honoured. I love their brush pens. Their nibs keep their flexible shape after extended usage. I use these pens all the time. Absolutely the best brush pens for illustration, in my experience (and I’ve tried them all). I thought Kuretake would send one or two pens, but they sent me a whole envelope full! I can’t wait to experiment with them and show my drawings to you in the next few days and weeks.
Thank-you again for being there for me every day, and following along on this journey of artistic discovery and motherhood. It means more to me than you know.
How is it already almost May? I thought it was February yesterday? Haha! Approaching the beginning of a new month and finishing a big project means I’m realigning my goals and priorities.
This morning, over a frothy decaf latte, I made my list of goals and intentions for May in my Powersheets Goal Book. Then, to make sure I wasn’t overwhelmed by it all, I drew a little mini-me in the margins giving me encouragement in a speech bubble. So, that’s my daily drawing today. A little boost of encouragement for myself, and for you as well. We’ve got this! We can do it, whatever “it” is.
What are your goals for the merry month of May? Tell me in the comments! I’d love to know!
The Pink Moon: the full moon in April. Today is a bright, sunny, crisp day: the calm after yesterday’s storm. Yesterday, by contrast, was a deluge. I got drenched when I ran outside for the school run and errands. Pink cherry blossom petals roiled in the overfilled street gutters, rushing down the street and into the drains. By the evening the sky had cleared and it was cold — winter cold.I could see the glowing sky above our house, and just glimpse the moon over our eaves. I intended to sneak out to look at it, but the warmth of bed beckoned after a long day. So this scene is something I imagined. The cherry tree stands at the gate to Richmond Park in London. I see it almost daily… but I have never seen by the glowing light of the full moon. Maybe someday I will.
One of the reasons why I’m painting full moons this year is because I want to connect to the natural world in a regular way. Our ancestors relied on the moon and the stars for so many things. Even my Canadian grandmother lived by the rule that one should never plant your veggie patch until after the full moon in June. In our modern life do we think about the moon at all? Or the stars? We mostly rely on the glowing screens of our phones and computers instead of the glowing moon and stars.
The one thing I’ve learned from observing the moon is that the seasons change. I’ve been through lots of seasons of growth, from feeling stuck, to grief, to excitement and rest. They never last forever, and there’s beauty in that.
What kind of season are you walking through right now? Tell me below, and I’ll pop over to your feed to continue the discussion!
Happy Friday friends! I’m sitting in my studio, surrounded by piles of illustrations which I’m scanning into my computer to be edited before I send them off to the publisher. Rain is sliding down the window-panes. There’s nothing like a grey, rainy day to focus the mind on what is essential. As the fog rolls in, visibility reduces, and I find it easier to concentrate on the things right in front of me. There is only foreground, and no distracting background.
Lists abound. Lists of things I need to remember while I’m editing my illustrations in photoshop. Lists of things I still need to do (so many!). And lists of other more mundane chores: items to pick up from the grocery store, new words Mary has invented, and household tasks that need completing soon.
What are you making lists of today? Hopefully you also have a list of fun things to do this weekend?
And, as an aside. My love letter to you goes out by email this afternoon. Make sure you’re on the list to receive it!
Today I need to be gentle with myself. How about you? I intended to send out my creativity newsletter today, but it didn’t happen. Along with lots of other tasks, which all sacrificed themselves for the Big Thing that I need to get done. And you know what? That’s ok!
I promise I’ll send out the newsletter tomorrow. We’ll be meditating on being gentle with ourselves (appropriate, huh?). If you want to get in on the conversation, and snag yourself this gorgeous printable bookmark, then sign up below. You still have time. Isn’t that great? My being late gives you more grace time to get on the list.
Sending love and gentleness your way from my messy studio.
My desk is a whirlwind of paper, pens, brushes and paint. One book is almost finished, with a little luck and prayer I’ll send it off by the end of the week, and then I can focus on two other book projects that need to be completed “emergently” (my daughter’s new word for urgently and emergency)
My other little whirlwind is napping, and then we’re going to bake banana muffins for our playgroup tomorrow morning. And maybe spend some time smelling the cherry blossoms down the road, and chasing the petals as they float to the ground.
There are perks to working from home: being able to set my own hours, spending lots of time with my daughter, and making coffee and stepping out into my garden whenever I want. But it’s not always glamorous. Being able to set my own hours sometimes means I work too much. When work is at home, how does one set boundaries?
These are things I contemplate as I rush towards illustration deadlines, and also try to slow down time with my daughter. It’s the endless push and pull of chronos and kairos: time that is fast, and time that is slow.
How are you starting your week today?
Happy Earth Day! This weekend my three-year-old daughter has run approximately 300 laps of our garden, watering each individual tulip and daffodil with her little measuring cup turned watering can.
As she waters she chatters to the flowers, “You’ve already had your drink from the rain.” She turns to another one, “But you’re really thirsty, so here’s some water for you.” Then she trots back to me, plastic wellies slapping against her shins, and says, “I need more water emergently, the flowers are so thirsty. I’m taking care of them.”
Emergently means urgently with a rush of emergency thrown in. It’s her own invention.
I love that she feels this connection with the natural world. She dotes on our flowers. She listens quietly for the birds roosting in our purple plum tree. We have a tiny patch of garden, but it’s enough to open a world of nature to her.
What are you doing today?
Shall we have another coffee break? Wait, I’ll just pour the frothed milk over our coffee to make lattes. I’ll have mine decaf, no sugar. How do you like yours?
It’s Friday; which bitter sweet as I look the list I had for this week. It was long. I accomplished most of my important tasks, but not all of them. We are early risers, so I’ll work at dawn on the weekend days, before we head out for fun and games with our three-year-old.
At the end of the week I try to take a deep breath, and to be gentle with myself. Did you know that “inspiration” is latin for “breathing in.” I can’t think, or be inspired, unless I’m relaxed enough to let the breath flow freely. I chatted about that in my last monthly newsletter (which is a monthly meditation on creativity). Not on the list? You can read the back issue at THIS LINK, and if you’re inspired, please sign up. Next week I’ll be talking about being gentle with ourselves. I promise you’ll be inspired.
Anyway, if you were here for coffee we’d talk about lists (how to do you make yours? Bullet journal? Sticky notes? Digital app?), about breathing, about being gentle with ourselves even midst the chaos of daily life. And how important it is to stop and smell the fragrant coffee.
What are your plans for the weekend? And please head over to read the back issue of my newsletter. It’s my gift to you for being such lovely and inspiring friends.
Progress, not perfection. That’s my motto at the moment. Does that resonate with you, too? Are you also juggling a million tasks, and sifting through a gallon of priorities? How do we even start?
This is how I started today: this morning I lay all the illustrations for one children’s book on my desk like stiff, white quilt squares and started painting them assembly-line style. I mixed my colours (cobalt green, opera rose and indianthrene blue) and lay the colour in washes on each illustration, one at a time. Slowly the layers built up and the squares of paper transformed from white to multi-coloured.
This is an efficient way of painting. Quick even. But not easy. It means pulling the images apart in my mind so that I’m not painting people and characters and emotions, but fields of colour. The emotions will come at the end when I add the final details.
So, I repeat, “progress not perfection” to myself as I work. The perfection will come at then end. Right now, progress is the most important.
What are you working on? How could you simplify it? Make it easier and more effortless? Would making progress of any sort give you a confidence boost? Can I give you permission to start today, just start and do anything so that you’re toes are wet? I promise the water is nice, once you dive in!
Watching my daughter grow up is like watching the progress of a magic spell. From one day to the next there is a new light behind her eyes, a new imaginative idea, and a deeper comprehension of the world around her.
Her favourite thing to do right now is put on a lace and chiffon dress-up dress and dance around the room to the tinny twinkling of her plastic music player. She transforms from a leggy three-year old girl into a Renaissance Italian princess, bedecked in brocade, lace and silk. Her tiny leather ballet shoes peek out from the bottom of the dress. She takes deep, swaying steps, then rises on tip-toes and holds the long layers of her chiffon skirt delicately between her fingers. Then she turns slowly and does her “balancés” to the other side.
When did she grow up? How did she know how to carry her head and her shoulders like a princess, as if she were born to it?
And, what will she be tomorrow? Where will this magic spell take us?
If you were to drop in for coffee today, this is where you would find me: hunched and focussed over my studio table. I would push the stray hair out of my eyes, tuck my pen behind my ears, shuffle my sketches into some semblance of order, and offer you a coffee. How do you like it? Milk? Sugar? Would you prefer a latte? We have a milk frother now…
So, here I am, wearing my Dad’s old hoodie, and my comfiest jeans. My hands are covered in ink. This is my studio uniform. The hoodie is the one my Dad wore whenever he was working at his desk: sorting through invoices, or planning the next season’s farm equipment sales. When he really needed to focus, he’d drape the hood over his head to cut out distraction, and now I do the same. When I wear this hoodie, I feel connected to him.
If you came for coffee I’d ask what your plans for the weekend are. Anything fun? I’m probably going to spend early mornings working, so that I can stay on track with my deadlines. Then spend the rest of the time having fun with my husband and daughter.
Tell me… how to do you like your coffee? What are your plans for the weekend?
Most days you can find me hunched over my studio table, pen flying across the page, trying to finish the art for three children’s books before the end of May. Colourful papers are scattered everywhere like flower petals falling from a tree: reference sketches spread on the floor so I can see them at a glance, working sketches and final art layered on my table in a careful sedimentary arrangement. The most recent and most urgent work is on the top. My laptop is open and humming, so that I can search for reference material at a moment’s notice. My favourite kuretake brush pens are never far from my side, and several can often can be found wound into my messy bun, or tucked behind my ears for safe keeping. Time of of the essence, and my mess, rather than chaotic, is actually a sign of efficiency.
Every day after lunch Mary and I sit together and watch some of her favourite cartoons before we cuddle down for a nap. We sit on her “reading cushion” on the floor. She folds herself onto my lap and stretches her legs along mine. Every day she measures them, and stretches her toes as far as they can go. “Mommy, I’m growing. My legs are almost as long as yours are!
She grows and changes so fast. I try to hang on to these little moments and sweet memories. Recording them in my sketchbook is a way to stop time from spinning forwards too fast.
Don’t forget, dear friend, that you still can enter to win a signed and doodled-in copy of my newest book. Just check out the link on the post below this. You don’t want to miss this chance!
Meet Lily.
She’s loving, loyal and creative. She gives her clothes to charity. She collects books. When she sees someone who needs help, she always has a minute to stop.
She’s a character in the newest children’s picture book I illustrated called “On Our Street,” which is a compassionate look at poverty and homelessness for young children. It approaches the tricky issues as a conversation between and adult and a child, and offers simple ways for even the youngest children to help. It is an incredible and inspiring resource, and I’m certainly looking through it with my three-year old daughter. It is written by Dr. Jillian Roberts, child psychologist extraordinaire, and Jaime Casap, Google’s Chief Education Evangelist.
For my daily drawing, I decided to doodle Lily on the title-page of the book with my Japanese brush pens.
But I can’t keep Lily to myself. I’d love you to have her!
To win a copy just head over to this link! The grand prize is the doodle-in and signed copy plus an exclusive greeting card and sticker pack. Five more North American winners will win copies of the book sent out by Orca Books. All are eligible to enter this giveaway!
It might be your lucky day!
enter here!
https://mailchi.mp/11d311ace091/onourstreetgiveaway
