a traveller’s tale 1

Part of the restorative power of the holiday comes from the dis-assembly of the components of every day life, the selection of the elements most necessary to continue in a new place for a brief time and the reassembly of those pieces into a new order that will prevail for a few weeks. Couple this with moving horizons, new horizons and the right mindset and the journey to restoration can begin.

I have been on holidays in the past which have been mediocre, and contributed not much to any kind of “feelgood” factor. Not for any lack of beauty or interest on the part of the destination, but because my mind was too cluttered. And more importantly , the mind was too keen to hang on to the clutter and unwilling to set aside the daily cares. It wanted to dwell on the domestic, the mundane at home. Sometimes the issues we grapple with are very large, and even holidays cannot rid you of a sense of being overwrought, but this time, there was nothing that could not be laid aside, nothing to spoil the ride.

Driving meant that our options to take the things we both enjoy in our creative lives was easier. Flying with camera equipment and tripods is less fun that putting them in the back of the car. Even so, I decided to travel light, intending to restrict the things I took so they were very portable, meeting the needs of my hill walking persona. Seduced by the publicity of the marketing people at Moleskine, I bought a sketchbook and selected the minimum art materials I thought I would enjoy-a pencil tin containing waterproof pens, sketching pencils and water soluble Graphitint pencils. A couple of water colour brushes, a few watercolour pans and a plastic pallet, all contained within a plastic zip lock wallet. When walking, I took only the tin and the sketchbook, using the watercolours back at the hotel.

I feel sure the tiger tin is Laura’s-thanks my lovely- and inside are these…

I wanted to take the sketchbook as a place where I could store ideas , images, thoughts and traveller’s paraphernalia-tickets, sugar packets, the whole thing. DH is a very keen photographer and he would be happy exploring an area for half an hour or more, and I wanted to be able to use that time to record on paper. (I still worry that one day all this digital stuff will vanish into the ether, and then what will we have?)

I know from experience that drawing a place fixes it in the mind more than any photograph can-the very act of drawing commits to the memory and makes you part of the place-or is it that the place becomes part of you? As I write this I can vividly recall the deserted house we walked to and had our lunch, the feel of the wind, the changing sky, the bird song, the whole thing, because I was there with every cell of my being as I looked at the scene. The amateurishness of the sketch is less important than the “being there”. But I quite like the sketch too, as it turns out.

So thus I packed my little kit for sketching and I used it every day. And the sketchbook is now a work in progress, to be continued here at home, with my digital images to support some more sketches. I packed a sewing kit too-but that’s for another post.

So we packed the car, and drove to the ferry port in Plymouth and the adventure began. The ferry sailed around the western tip of Brittany in evening light. The sun sparkled on the wake quite beautifully. For a few minutes a homing pigeon flew with us, before setting off towards France. It reminded me of the Magritte painting of the Dove-entitled La grande Famille. I drew it-next post!