Riversong: The language of liquid continued.

Down to the stream, where otters swim to the sea, with a stone and a bottle. River water for painting.


River water, collected at Ninewells for otter painting. Stone gift left, with palladium


A post shared by Jackie Morris (@jackiemorrisartist) on

Home, and in the evening trying to clear head of all but the shape of an otter. Turning the timer so the sand slips through. The large one for an hour.

River water in glasses.

The small timer of blue sand for fifteen minutes, grinding the ink, trying to focus, empty the head of doubt, but I worry too much…..

Then paint, and some parts work, and lessons are learned and maybe the next will be better. Head more filled with that shape and emptied of the fear, and ink darker.

But I love the texture of the ink.


And, how long does it take? Well one answer is, two speakings of the otter spell. And another answer can be found in my piece for Five Dials. It’s called On Being a Bear.

I love the subtitle- the fifty six year long painting.

So, I need to bush up my otters as I will be painting one at Cambridge Lit Fest soon. And also at Hay Festival, where Kerry Andrew will be singing of bluebells and wrens.


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.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Riversong: The language of liquid continued.

  1. Bernie Bell says:

    It’s not otters – but it might be to do with spells………….
    This morning, I was getting dressed, looking out the window at the garden and thinking “The hares should be turning up anytime soon” They start to make their presence felt, around this time of year. Then I heard Mike’s voice from the kitchen, saying “There’s a hare in the garden” I was just asking “Where?”, when he came into view, from the right – a big, fine, beastie, lolloping along, nice and steady, having a nibble here and there. I watched him for a while – the markings round his eyes, the white on the back of his ears as he turned away.
    Then I told Mike what had happened, and we thought that some emanation of hareness, must have put hares in my head, then….along came hare.
    So, this morning, I’m going to sit down and look at The Lost Words again, which I haven’t looked at for a while.
    Isn’t life just a doozy?
    Happy Hareday

  2. Bernie Bell says:

    PS I followed your link to ‘On Being a Bear’ – well, I would, wouldn’t I ? – and I just want to say – that man you were talking to, was an arse. Which one? Take your pick – but the first one could win a medal for it!
    collectable schmollectable.
    Happy Bearday

Leave a Reply

Your e-mail address will not be published. Required fields are marked *