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I hope this finds you safe and well.  There has been some more summery weather on the west coast these past few days and I am enjoying starting to see the fruits of my recent labours in the slowly developing "garden".  It's like painting a picture, I've come to realise - putting colours and textures together, to create something pleasing to the eye. Of course the garden "picture" does not stay the same, as the seasons come and go, so the gardener must be continually trimming and tweaking, looking, adjusting and adjusting again. It is a continuous work in progress.

Many of you already know that as well as painting, I love taking photographs. I know lots of folk have been missing visiting their favourite places in Scotland in recent times, so I've been busy updating my website to include a photography page, showing a selection from my portfolio. This links to another website (Photo4me) where you can buy canvases, prints etc. of my work.

There's 10% off just now, on all items - just use the code kindness2020 at checkout. 

• Virtual Exhibition -
• A selection of my photographs
• On the Photography page of my website
• Always there - visit to view whenever you like

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If you're finding it tricky to get hold of greetings cards just now, I've expanded my card collections - there are now 15 different collections, each with 5 different cards.  Hopefully there's something for everyone - shown above are -

• ​Panorama Collection 1
• Flora Collection 1
• Panorama Collection 2

and below -

• Highland Collection
• Linoprint Collection 1
• Letterbox Collection

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As always, thank you so much for your interest in my work, it is greatly appreciated.  I am hopeful that there may be some opportunities to share my work in real life before the summer is over. 

In the meantime, stay safe and well.

all the best

Jennifer

I hope this finds you safe and well and finding ways to get through these strange times.
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Recent work created during lockdown

It took me a while to get back to painting after the lockdown was put in place on 23rd March.  Out for a walk one day, I noticed the remnants of a foxglove - see above, on the left - at the front of my garden (I use the term very loosely, I am gradually taming small parts of it).  I brought it into the studio, laid it flat on the table, and began.  So started a series of these works - mostly remnants of last year's growth, as there were few signs of spring at that point.  More recently, bracken fronds have started to appear, and my daffodils have bloomed, so spring greens have made an appearance in my work.  All the works  - 15 to date - are on large (A2, 40 x 60cm approx) paper - most are life size, some a bit larger.  You can view them all here on my website.

see more flora...

​I don't need to to tell you we are facing difficult times just now.  I hope this finds you and your loved ones well and adapting to whatever circumstances you find yourself in. 

In my last newsletter, I was sharing news of being part of Poolewe Tuesday Market, stocking some of my products in Cabinet at the lovely An Talla Solais Gallery in Ullapool and an exhibition of my paintings at Inverewe Garden.  You can see the paintings I planned to exhibit (and more), in the gallery pages of my website.  More recently, I had provided cards and sketchbooks to the shop at Gairloch Museum. None of these things is happening now, for obvious reasons. 

​I highly recommend doing something creative during these trying times - draw, paint, write, play music. Plant seeds, and look forward to watching them grow. That's what I was doing yesterday.  Or learn a language - I discovered the wonderful App, Duolingo and have been learning a bit of Gaelic, as well as brushing up on my French and German and getting going with Spanish.  It's a great way to learn, very encouraging and good fun.  Or make soup. Making soup is one of my go-to things when it all gets a bit too much.  It feels like a time for recalibration, in so many ways.

Wishing you all the very best - thank you for your interest in my work, it is greatly appreciated.

Jennifer x

 See my Pebbles on the Beach Facebook page for regular posts and updates.

I hope this finds you well and that you have enjoyed the summer - it definitely feels as if we are moving into autumn now.

I am happy to be taking part in North East Open Studios again this year - at the same venue as last year - the Phoenix Centre at Newton Dee in Bieldside, Aberdeen.  There will be nine of us showing a lovely range of work - from furniture to textiles, fused glass to painting, mixed media and printmaking.   We call ourselves Art at the Phoenix for this event.  I am number 302 in the NEOS book.

I have wanted to attend Feis Rois for a long time.  When I first took up my fiddle again, about twenty years ago, my two children were quite small and I didn't feel I could escape for a whole long weekend to myself.  Goodness knows why - I must have been a bit mad. The years passed, I wondered about going but never got organised.  Then, around New Year time this year, an old school friend got in touch.  She picked up her fiddle again last year; hers had collected more dust than mine, although perhaps that has made her even more determined to play again.  "Let's go to the Feis!" she said. I didn't need to be asked twice.  We were best friends right through school, from Primary 6 to sixth year. Competing in class, spurring each other on to study hard and, oh yes, sitting beside each other in the second violins in the school orchestra.  

So, on Friday 4th May we travelled to Ullapool (by road, not ferry, contrary to appearances from the photo above), booked into our lovely B&B with views out over the sea towards the Summer Isles, and headed to the High School to register for the Feis.  To describe the Feis, I am borrowing some words from their website - "a weekend bursting with music, song and dance and a stellar team of tutors to inspire participants of all levels".   And that is exactly what it was, and more.  Although I've been playing fiddle and, more recently, mandolin on and off for twenty years, I chose to attend a beginners' harp class.  I went to this every morning. It was wonderful.  There were only six of us in the class; all keen to learn and loving every minute of the new experience.  Rachel Newton was our tutor - she was so patient, kind and full of laughter. And a great teacher! "Thumbs up, fingers down" became our mantra.  The time flew by; we learnt a tune by ear, and the beginnings of a second one.  Several of the class asked where they might acquire a clarsach so they could carry on....

Afternoons were spent doing group work under the expert tutoring of Lauren MacColl, along with Mairearad Green and Signy Jakobsdottir.  I played my fiddle.  We had a chance to play some of the music from The Seer, a new composition by Lauren, commissioned by Feis Rois.  I learnt a lot, including the fact that a tenor horn sounds great in traditional music, 3 x 4 = 12 (I did know that, but this involved drumsticks and chair backs) and that an accordion can make a sound like waves on the shore.  

It wasn't all about the music. Mostly it was, to be fair.  But sustenance was required.  Coffee breaks in the morning were a highlight, with volunteers serving endless cheerful mugs of tea and coffee, and fabulous, substantial homebakes seeing us through until lunchtime.    The whole weekend was marvellous; there was a concert with The Shee and The Seer on the Saturday evening and a tutors' concert the following one.  There were sessions in the pubs all through the town, which went on into the small hours.  Tunes were shared, songs sung and I left feeling replenished, refreshed and inspired.  The icing on the cake for me, however, was succeeding in encouraging (not single-handedly, I admit) a reluctant joiner-in to do so.  The look of glee on his face after just one workshop was a joy to behold.  That, for me, is what playing music together should be all about.   A fun and enjoyable experience, shared with others.  

I'm looking forward to next year already!

A friend asked me the other day what I'd been up to recently.  I answered very unsatisfactorily, I suspect.  "Oh, this and that," I said.  I managed to gather my thoughts sufficiently to mention a couple of reasonably concrete things - a new outlet for my work, plans for the open studios event later in the year.   I feel as if I have been pretty busy recently, but it's all fairly disparate, with not a lot of tangible results for my efforts.  Perhaps it is time to take stock, see where I am with various projects, and start prioritising what to do next.  North East Open Studios seems a long way off (it's not really, it's in 4 months' time!).

This is the problem I find with working creatively, on my own.  The lack of a sounding board, someone to say "that's not one of your best ideas, what about that other one you mentioned the other day?" - the less brutal version of "that idea is rubbish.... next!"   I find I am often full of ideas, but whether it is worth pursuing them can be a difficult decision. Recently, I have done a bit more drawing, as well as some sketching out and about (sitting on the harbour at Portsoy was so lovely, especially in the sunshine).  It made me recall how much I enjoy this; absorption is total, concentration absolute, focus intense.  Time just disappears.  I had hoped to do a pile of sketches, and managed three or four.  I tried doing a few in the city centre the other day, but found that I needed to find a quiet spot, somewhere I could sit, as I felt too conspicuous otherwise.  The practicalities of balancing sketchbook, water pot and tiny box of watercolours also have to be taken into account.  Of course I took photographs as well, many of Portsoy harbour.  I very much admire the work of John Glynn, who I believe is now based in Moray. When I got back to my shed/studio I had a go at doing a simplified drawing of Findochty harbour, inspired by his style.  It was an interesting exercise, which made me focus even more clearly on the shapes I was seeing, and avoid making "sketchy" marks.   Plans are afoot to do some drawings like this, using some of the reference photos I've taken recently of northeast harbours.  There we go, a plan has been crystallised before my very eyes!  Thank you for listening/reading :)

No words required.

It's that time of year again.  Artists and makers will be opening their studios, garages, front rooms, shops, galleries and other miscellaneous spaces this weekend, to show the public what they do.  

It's my 6th year taking part - once again I am in The Cabin in my back garden. This year I'm number 227 in the directory.  There may well be baking.  I have been tidying and sorting through my work from the past year, deciding what to put on show.   The Cabin is quite small, as those of you who have visited before will know - I am contemplating having an outside exhibition space, weather permitting (and if I can find where I put the little gazebo...), in order to show a wider range of my work.

There are more artists than ever included in the trail I'm part of - this year called The Lower Deeside Trail (see image below).  I have also posted this on my Facebook page, and paper copies will be available at any of the entries listed on it.   Time to get planning where to go - I have started making my list already!  

I look forward to seeing you and welcoming you to The Cabin!

Delighted to say that this painting, "Letterbox at Mellon Udrigle" is off to a new home after the local art exhibition which I took part in last weekend.  Apparently the buyer (I did not meet her) had been to Mellon Udrigle, so there was a link.   It's one of my favourite beaches on the west coast - take a turn off the main road at Laide, north of Gairloch, Poolewe and Aultbea, but south of Gruinard, and out along a single track road past a string of houses, over the little bridge across the burn and then up over the hill and back down to the coast again.  Watch out for seals along the coastline.  And seabirds - gannets diving perhaps.  It was on Mellon Udrigle beach a while ago, on an overcast day, that I glimpsed a movement to my left, as I stood taking photographs of the sea.  At first I thought it was a dog, but then I noticed the way the animal moved. A sort of lolloping, ungainly gait.  It was an otter, headed from the dunes down to the water.  They are built for swimming, of course, not running. I was not quick enough with my camera, choosing to enjoy the moment, instead. 

Mellon Udrigle beach, photos taken early April, 2016.

Two whole weeks away on the west coast.  Wonderful. The weather was "mixed" - the polite Scottish way of saying that there was no blazing sunshine or sunbathing on the beautiful beaches.  No, it was more a case of rushing out for a walk between the showers, watching the sky for a darkening, making the most of the patches of blue.  The wind kept the midges away; no-one got sunburnt, we had a lovely time.   This time the time away included an adventure involving crossing the Minch (it would be fun to play the tune on the ferry) to the island of Lewis to visit my daughter, who is there for the summer.  

We were treated to a family fishing trip and caught lots of lively, silvery blue/green mackerel and even some haddock.  It took me back to fishing with a handline in Lochcarron as a child - the thrill of feeling that bite on your line, the guessing (to start with) what would be on it, and learning the feel of the way the fish moved.  Maybe it was no coincidence that I went on to spend many years doing mackerel research work.   This time we used sea rods - good sturdy, simple contraptions. No casting involved, which makes very good sense in a small boat with four rods deployed. Unlock the reel, finger over the line, let it out till it hits the bottom, reel it in a bit, then jiggle up and down (gently), and wait.  Of course the folk who took us out knew exactly where to go, which helped!

Lewis. What a place - vast expanses of sky and moor and beaches that stretch as far as the eye can see.   Oodles of abandoned houses and sheds, many with half their roofs torn off.  Rusting corrugated iron galore. Since I was with family, there was less time to take photographs; some day soon I hope to go back.  We made a visit to Luskentyre beach on Harris (I still haven't worked out exactly how the division between Harris and Lewis works, but we did pass signs indicating the end of one and the start of the other).   The sun came out and the sea was that magical turquoise that comes from sea over sand.  A fortuitously washed up log on the beach made a perfect place to perch and sketch.  The family were thoughtful enough to leave me to it.  I only moved when I realised the tide was about to reach my feet.  Bliss.  One day I will capture that colour. One day.