Now available to register your interest for. This is another drop-in drawing session like my Monday morning class, but timed for evening to suit workers and my American friends. Get your drawing gear, whatever you have – a biro and printer paper will get you started. Graphite pencils and some good quality coloured pencils will give you lots to explore. Check out the Drawing Page of my website for more information about materials, and use the contact form there to sign up.
These drop-in sessions are a chance to practise your skills, train your eye and also have a bit of fun. No outcome is required, you can choose the subject matter and what media you want to play with. We share the work of artists we like, think about how their work could influence us, experiment and doodle.
Just some things we’ve played with: ways of framing a composition, mark making experiments, measuring, perspective, colour theory, watery media, pens, doodling, choosing subjects, even drawing with our feet and mouth!
‘I feel like I have new eyes – when I’m out for a run I keep stopping to look at shapes and colours I didn’t see before’. ‘I hadn’t realised just how intricate that shell is and how many colours there are in it.’ ‘I really have to concentrate, to look’…. just a few of the things students have said to me in drawing classes over the last few years.
My sister Sarah and I have been running drawing classes for about 3 years at the Royal School of Needlework in Hampton Court, Surrey. Sarah had initially designed the course for embroiderers who wanted more confidence to design their stitched pieces; we offered it at Hampton Court with great success, succeeding in giving students confidence, tools and the courage to experiment and believe in their own vision.
In the teaching I’ve bcome more aware find drawing has a great value for itself, for centring my focus, calming me and above all helping me to really pay attention: to the moment I’m in, to what’s in front of me right now, and following my observation down a path of curiosity and discovery.
The three-day classes are an intense blast of information and activity, and both students and ourselves as teachers are often exhausted by the end of it. It’s great fun but intense! I wondered what it would be like to run a class where we have time to relax into drawing, that anyone, whatever their background in art, can enjoy.
Now I’ve started running a class once a week in Godalming, for two hours of drawing in a very relaxed and supportive environment. There’s no aim other than this: to observe, to draw, to play with materials, to explore colour. There’s certainly no pressure to produce finished works. It matter because for me observational drawing is about connecting with the world, by trying to see as truthfully as possible what is in front of us and attempting to capture this. We normally see so little of what’s around us, being inundated with demands on our attention. Taking the time to pay close attention has really enriched my life; taking up some colours grounds me in times of stress and helps me to stay present in myself.
I also wonder if taking the time to be present, to overome visual assumptions about what the world looks like and to check in with our own response is connected to being able to ‘see’ more clearly in other ways as well. It’s a practise of gaining clarity, and can often show me something about what I’m thinking and feeling that nothing else can.
NEW! Drawing, once a week, Mondays 10-12 in Godalming. £27 a session, pay on the door. Please contact me if you’d like to come! it’s a small class.
Drawing practice has always been sustaining for me, but in recent months it has often felt like the most grounded, steadying and real thing I’ve been doing.
The reduction of stimulation which happened straight away on the implementation of lockdown restrictions made those things which were left feel very important. My sense of time changed, and what mattered to be done changed. It became easier to spend time scrutinising the structure of a flower, or watch the flight of an insect, and it also felt important in a way it hasn’t before. It has become very clear to me that people have relied on the arts and culture to occupy them and give their lives meaning, and as a teacher of arts it has re-affirmed my commitment to that. The value of culture and art to our society beyond simply the amount of money it brings in as a industry has become much clearer.
I know for some this time has been perceived as a reduction in opportunities. I’m very aware of having been lucky so far, having blessedly stayed well, and those around me have stayed well, and their jobs have been safe. People’s desire for the arts, for learning and for finding meaning has brought me new students, through online teaching. I’m really enjoying having students from Canada, America, Australia and elsewhere in the UK in my classes now. I can think and prepare demonstrations, make video recordings and have found ways to help me share their own images with me and each other for comment.
There’s a real sense in each class of choosing to focus on something with meaning and find ways to keep doing it, keep looking, keep seeing the beauty and keep sharing, no matter what obstacles lie in the way.
‘I’m rambling all over the place… sorry about that’. An apology from a Thinking colleague recently, one which I’ve heard before. People can feel very vulnerable, showing the rambling thought processes which emerge when we’re pushing the boundaries of our thinking or learning, and going to new places in our mental landscapes. Fortunately, in the space of a Thinking Environment® Think, there are strong boundaries and processes that make it safe. I’m not going to be interrupted and my colleague believes in me and gives encouragement.
I’ve been struck again by the need for safety in thinking things through and learning. The mind can be woolly, like a big tangle of threads, whether it’s sorting through the oddments of one’s own mind to find the end of the thread, and therefore begin untangling it, or introducing something new which needs to be assimilated and woven into the fabric already there. There has to be a stage of confusion.
Our culture, as I may have observed in my blog before, isn’t sympathetic to admissions of uncertainy or not knowing on the part of adults. Interviewees on current affairs programmes are grilled without mercy, the interviewer pushing to find a chink of uncertainty, into which they rush with triumph when they find one. Although I am not often interviewed, thank goodness, this is the background music to all of our lives, and I’m aware of wanting others to see myself as successful. I fear that if they see my rambling thought processes, blind alleys of thinking and mistakes they will think I am weak, ill-informed or unable, and perhaps I’m afraid it could be used against me.
I often hear my students punishing themselves verbally or apologising for doing things ‘wrong’. And as a teacher I can feel my own vulnerability, and trying to embrace ‘learning opportunities’ of my own – making mistakes, dropping stitches, not being understandable in my explanations, getting a rhythm wrong, forgetting things. I want to demonstrate that it’s ok to make a mistake, more than that, it’s neccessary, to learn and expand one’s thinking. If I’m ok making mistakes, then it’s ok for you too. Trouble is, sometimes it’s hard to be that person in front of a group, feeling responsible for their wellbeing and learning yet feeling vulnerable myself.
However, it’s even harder to be the one who has authority and knows, and can’t be seen to make a mistake. I used to think as a beginning teacher that I had to know everything, or everything the students might want to know at least.
I’ve been giving that up in favour of vulnerability since I realised what a precarious and fragile position it can be trying to be the one who knows. And I’m grateful for Thinking Environment principles which enshrine within them ecouragement and permission to go beyond normal thinking.
I get great comfort and encouragement from the spiral. So often it seems like I am circling around the same things, confronting the same issues. I remind myself though that this time is not in fact the time before, however similar it may appear.
The nautilus grows its shell one chamber at a time, moving every so often into a slightly larger space than the previous one. It gives itself room to grow, increasing the spiral as it adds a new chamber.
Regularly reflecting on what is happening in my life and what I need to do next is a bit like building a new chamber for my self, or allowing the space I live in to gow and expand a little. As I realise a blockage and remove it, or change a habit to something more beneficial, I grow a little. There’s always a new thing around the corner, or even a similar thing around the corner, but I can take some time to think. What have I tried, why didn’t it stick last time, is there somthing else I haven’t seen which is affecting me?
The regular meetups I run for Evolve Leadteam, in our local community, give me that steady, regular application of thought to my life. I started running this monthly event, which we carry out on Thinking Environment® principles, to share with others the benefits of a space to thin well for oneself. one step at a time, little by little, I stop doing the things which don’t work. Slowly it changes my life.
Our necxt Magic Meetup in Farncombe, Godalming is on 10th July at Hucklberry’s cafe.
A student’s reaction to our recent embroidery class, taught with Sarah Homfray. I’m glad to see the Thinking Environment additions of ‘what’s going well?’ were a valued part of the course. Thanks, Marlous.
Last weekend I was back at the Royal School of Needlework. Not to continue with the next module of my certificate course but to attend a 3-day class on drawing and design for embroidery. This class was offered as one of the RSN-day classes but was specifically aimed at certificate & diploma students but anyone could attend.
The tutors for the 3 days were sisters Sarah and Caroline Homfray. As they are sisters they immediately created a relaxed atmosphere in the classroom with jokes and comments about each other. Both tutors have lots of experience in embroidery and art and they had brought lots of their own sketchbooks, art books and art materials with them for us to have a look at. They even decorated the central table with lots of different items (jars, masks, feathers, leaves etc.) that we could draw or be inspired by throughout the course. On…
Over the last four years I’ve been learning and then training as a Thinking Environment® facilitator. The cornerstone of the Thinking Environment is the principle that people can think well for themselves, given the right conditions. They involve being in the presence of a listener whose attention and encouragement is wholly yours, and who trusts completely that you are creative, altruistic, intelligent and can think for yourself.
That work, and delivering Thinking Environment and training for the NHS, researchers, undergraduates and local people at a regular community event I run with a colleague, has been slowly informing my teaching of embroidery, something else I fnd very rewarding. I’ve been pondering how could I make my classes more about the student discovering and exploring for themselves, and less about me leading from the front.
I started to introduce rounds, and ask people to share what’s going well, what’s their favourite sort of embroidery, what’s a project they’re proud of. Then, after a student volunteered some very useful feedback about what had been most helpful for her in learning the technique, I started to ask, what have you learned this morning that was most useful? what went well about today? what else would you like to see in the course?
Now I’ve started to ask myself, ‘how can I give them the experience of exploring and learning for themselves? How little information do I need to give, and what questions will stimulate their learning?’
On Sunday I was teaching tambour embroidery at the Royal School of Needlework. We had a really fun, collaborative day with a relaxed atmosphere and everyone sharing their learning, questions, and tips from their own considerable textile experience. It felt easy as the teacher; I wasn’t tired or drained, but energised by the day. The participants reflected that they’d enjoyed the warm, friendly environment, and left with smiles and thanks.
So now I’d like to ask you. What are your best experiences of learning? what works for you? Please leave your comments below.
I was reminded yesterday of declaring some time ago that I really wanted to reach my potential, desperate for it. Recently I’ve been thinking more about this phrase. It suggests that potential is a thing out there to be reached, like a mountain peak, requiring struggle and effort fixed on a goal. I was asked, what will you do when you reach it? will you be happy?
Envisioning the future has long been hard for me; recurring bouts of depression have eroded my ability to see forward. At times, the future I could concentrate on was the next few minutes. Yet I knew I still wanted to ‘reach my potential’. I don’t know what it is I’m trying to reach though. When asked what I want, usually all that’s there is a sort of desperation, and something of a void, like hunting in a large cave with a small torch.
Now though, I’m becoming aware of a burning desire to explore what I can do. Feeling a drive to put stuff out there – thoughts, music, art, listening, enabling – assess the result, then choose the next thing, like navigating through a new landscape, bit by bit, and it opening out before me. This isn’t a clear view to the mountain, where all that has to be decided is how to get there. It’s a continual checking of a map which is being made, asking questions, feeling my way along, looking outwards, seeing what could be done, doing, noting it, and then checking inwards to find out how that feels, does it sit well with me, does it flow?
Potential feels more like Dylan Thomas’s ‘green fuse that drives the flower’. There is a fuel, (a need? drive? desire?) and a process (observing, acting, assessing, recalculating, observing…). It isn’t anything I’m going to reach. It isn’t only about work. It’s a restless, searching force, it’s a process, it feels energising, it’s life.
I sat down with a good friend recently and we had a deep think about the difficulties of asking for help, whether it’s ok to lean on people or not, but how hard it is to engage with the world without the right structure or framework. We asked the question: What is support? Here’s our list, please feel free to add or discuss.
Validation. someone saying: your experience is what it is, and worth something.
A sense of being understood
Empathy; that recognition of your experience leading to a feeling of shared understanding and acceptance of its difficulties.
been given the sense that it’s going to be okay, but when it feels like it isn’t, receiving empathy and comfort, feeling held.
Being witnessed. Being seen, you are here and your experience counts.
Sharing skills, strategies. resources -a planning system, a book, a TED talk, a piece of poetry, some art or music, some listening.
Being listened to with trust and confidence I will get time to think through myself, my listener will not jump in with solutions unless I request it.
Receiving compassion. ‘to suffer with’ that sense of someone standing with you in your difficulty, not offering you sympathy from their position of greater ease
Trust that I can find my way
Willingness to openly discuss boundaries, to consider and negotiate them
Care to know what my areas of sensitivity and pain are, acknowledging them but letting me own them and manage them.
Being reminded by example to practise self-care and develop awareness of what is needed
Reciprocity. I want to be able to give these things, as well as receive them.
it isn’t good to feel you only receive these things, it creates a sense of inequality and feeling less than. it may be possible to offer and receive these things mutually, or maybe one will receive and give to different people. Acheiving a sense of balance about it, and knowing also that what can be given and what one needs to receive will ebb and flow; sometimes one will be greater than the other. For me, a spell of depressions means I might need more but be less able to ask; I want to be able to start giving again as I recover.