Author Archives: Jackie

About Jackie

I am an artist and writer. I live in a small house by the sea in Wales where I write, paint, walk and watch and dream of bears and whales. I love to read, have a wish for wings and prefer the company of animals to that of humans, though at times I can be quite friendly. I am learning how to work with wood engraving tools and hoping to show that you can teach an old dog new tricks.

Kingfishers and Kent

This time last year there was a crowdfunding movement to raise money to place a copy of The Lost Words into every school in Scotland. The campaign raised so much, and it was possible to send with each book the … Continue reading

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How a book became a building

At the beginning of the year I was asked to ‘express an interest’ in a commissioned piece of work. The request took me by surprise, but once I had written, confessed my ignorance, had the procedure explained to me I … Continue reading

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About an event.

The dark seemed to come early, outside the mullioned windows of a city pub where I drank herb tea in the afternoon with Robin. City lights, the edge of winter and a curious numbness that descends before an event. Often … Continue reading

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Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford: A Talk for Sobell House

It feels a little as if I have stepped out of time. This year has been such a round of being at home, being away. And sometimes if I feel I have to pinch myself to see if I am … Continue reading

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Made from time, plants, water.

Today I ground some pigment, Bideford black again, mixed with water from Dulverton leat and painted some hares. These are all for sale for the Crowdfunder in Devon. The pigment is so dark, and I am still trying to get … Continue reading

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Words and gold

This, then, is for sale for The Lost Words in Devon. £250, words and gold leaf. It’s a walk at Abermawr in early summer. It is made from Chinese paper, typed on my dad’s old typewriter, stitched, using an old … Continue reading

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When it seems the day has never dawned

I have not done today the things I meant to do. Dark and wet, cold and miserable, I begin to understand why swallows fly south before winter. This is no weather for owls. And although there is some comfort to … Continue reading

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Away from home.

I travelled, leaving behind a small flock of swallows souls waiting to be stitched. I stayed for a while in a small house where I drew, and wrote and thought and watched the birds. The small house was a harbour … Continue reading

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Read between the lines; learning the shape of home.

It’s the shape of a cat curl.   It’s a golden dog on a high hill. It’s a grey dog with mischief on its mind.   It’s a blue plate on a wall. It’s listening to wrens stitch the hedges … Continue reading

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Two Rivers, Otters and Rest

Far away from home, hiding in a beautiful house, over the last few days I have settled to work, although I find myself painting when I should be writing. I’ve hung a bird feeder in the garden and have been … Continue reading

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