The Plot

the-plot

What are the spaces and places you love to go to, when you need to think better, feel refreshed? I’m guessing we all have favourite alternatives to sitting at our desks (however gorgeous the environment) and I wonder what yours might be.

My places mostly involve cliffs and coastlines – big, open, high places where my sense of size and place in the world is kept in healthy check, and life is flowing impressively without my help. Places where I can find some clear air, and distill priorities. Know what I mean? I suspect you do.

As an urban dweller though, I have to find other ways to get out and about, which is where our allotment among the animals at Windmill Hill City Farm comes in. So much of our working life centres on the inertia of screens, but as time goes on I find it’s impossible to keep it up effectively without a close-up dose of nature in the mix. The Plot, the farm, is where I get mine day to day, and you know what? I felt its high time to share some of that.

If you’re with me in wanting to balance our desk-bound, digital days with being more immersed in the natural order of things, then you might enjoy a podcast series I’m recording from the plot. Someone sowed the seed (sorry!) earlier this year about making a podcast, and it was one of those ideas that wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is. An experiment for now – I’m using no fancy equipment to record it, the editing’s shonky, and sound levels all over the place. But I hope you will find space, peace, food for thought and wisdom for our brave work journeys. And some sweet (noisy) animals too. Look out for new episodes every Monday night, each no more than 10 minutes long.

I try to get down to the farm as much as possible – easy, really, 10 minutes walk from home, and on my way in to the studio. It’s a beautiful hit of clear air and smelly creatures, both food and people growing. “A place where people grow” is the farm’s motto. Sniff.

Anything that helps us work better with our ideas.

Consider this me spreading the muck and the love. 

lizzie-plot

Lizzie working The Plot

 

Find it by searching for ‘The Plot Lizzie Everard’ or subscribe to the feed directly in iTunes, on Soundcloud, or on my Opinion page, here.

(Please bare with me while I learn the ropes here, it’s all so new and not sure if I’m going about it the right way! Let me know if links don’t work or you need different info. And forgive me for the noisy Geese…  )

Sketchbook Pages

While making Seashore Slowdown, I wondered what words it may need to help the flow – default setting for an expressive typographer! Realising it could stand as a more pure edit with straight film, I decided to be brave and leave it alone. So, these words I explored—little haiku poems—will probably stay on their sketchbook pages after all. It was a neat writing exercise though.

The haiku, as I discovered, tends to contain two different ideas and reference to the natural world, as well as the 5-7-5 syllables rule.

I found it hard to keep things simple, but this did feel like a great way to practice being eloquent with fewer words when it comes to writing the next animation script.

Softly blazing? Thinking about it, I don’t know, I bet there’s a short film ready and waiting for these wordy ideas just up ahead.

{Today’s Soundtrack: P Sol –This Must Be Home}

Seashore Slowdown

Here’s a little (tiny) film I made to say ‘thank you’ to those small seashore moments of summer—trying to capture something of that easy feeling when you’re sitting at the water’s edge with your toes in the shore break and breeze on your face—and bring it on home.

I’ve been trying to stretch myself to work with film as well as pure animation techniques, so these clips are just me getting used to what my iPhone can do for quick, sketchbook captures. It makes me smile – right back in the oh-so-simple escape of it all!

Hope it helps you keep your inspirations of summer flowing too.

 

{Soundtrack: ‘Woman’ by Rocovaco, under a Creative Commons License}

Meeting Cartier-Bresson.

Flower Cargo 01

Working with legends is a beautiful thing, but it can also screw with your head.

What can we learn from stepping in alongside the giants? So much gorgeous wisdom — work ethic, courage, stamina,  perseverance, how to have and hold an opinion, tricks of the trade, identity and empathy … shall I go on?

To work alongside a true legend and—joy of joys—discover mutual empathy will provide massive affirmation: “Ah, I’m not mad to be feeling this after all!”

BUT, it can also massively backfoot you. Damn it.

Recently I found myself in London and back down Old Street again, a number of years since working at Magnum Photos. Far, far (yet only one hundred yards) from that world of stubborn, iron-minded war photgraphers and photography heroes, this was an altogether different kind of shoot. It was a really odd moment, sitting on the steps of the tube station watching my fellow ‘photo-walk’ friends—fun, fashion conscious women—enjoying the clash of funky clothes against bright yellow walls. Happiness in the surface colour of things, new friends chasing common, simple perspectives to unite around. Why was it so hard to relax and just go with this? Issueless – what would those gnarly war-bound photographers make of it all?

My time at Magnum was an incredible couple of years. Many stories I could share, but meeting Henri Cartier-Bresson is what really threw me – I simply had nothing to say while gauping into those watery blue eyes, making contact with the legendary gaze which has discerned some of the most influential images of our time.

That gaze felt like a gun to my fragile opinions, a barrel pointed at my newly awakening sense of social justice. It was also—in the true spirit of Magnum—a cork popping loud on the helpless desire to make thoroughly beautiful images and record life as it explodes.

Cartier-Bresson’s view on, and expression of, the world is utterly compelling and irresistibly persuasive. How do you hold—or even discover—your own in the face of that?

Thankfully people like Bruce Davidson came to the rescue with long, lovely chat, swapping notes about what it feels like to do our work. (Such a sweet, crazy, and exceptionally clever man.) Here’s what it boiled down to:

Stop stalling against the opinion of other people, and just flow. No one sees through your eyes, with your heart and mind behind them. The spark exists. Just shoot.

And this is true whether your tool is a camera or pen, your voice or mind, an axe or a needle or a lathe. How do you find—and hold—your own?

“Go forth on your path, for it exists only through your walking.”

– St. Augustine

My friends, there are brilliant things up ahead. Let the legends challenge and inspire, but we have our own work to do now too.

I paused in Shoreditch that day, thinking about all this, watching those lovely women making friends over photography, opening up, shining little beams of light on each other, and wondering what sort of photograph is valid, has meaning, is true of life. And you know what? Man, woman, war, peace or disruption, I think we just have to get on with it.

Joy so simple.

Flower Cargo 02

 

Life, Abundantly.

Hydrangea

We all know that the path of life is not a straight one. Learning how to walk it with grace, peace and style may well be the ultimate art.

Recently, I found myself sitting around tables and campfires out in the wildest of West Wales at Fforest, drinking and chatting long into the nights with some seriously impressive and beautifully real women. All (mostly) making a living through our creative work, there we were throwing logs onto the flames, sharing happiness, hopes, fears, frustrations.

The thing that has brought most of us together is—I suspect—a commitment to that wild journeying, not only of creative living, but the desire to live wholeheartedly through all of life’s twists and turns and find kindred spirits along the way.

We want to make all our opportunities count, capture the day and search for the light, beauty, joy within all the heartache and mess that life inevitably has to be. Express it, soothe it, counsel it, celebrate it.

Breathe something into nothing – give birth and nurture. And most of all, chase that insatiable urge to make gorgeous stuff!

This is Sisterhood.

Today, July 8th, is my Ma’s birthday. She was the most lively, lovely, irresistibly creative and spontaneous soul I ever knew. But she wasn’t encouraged to be that because, well as I’m sure you may have heard, creative explosions can be so inconvenient, darling, and just not the done thing. Poor love. She died when I was twelve, setting us off alone like little boats sailing over a big sea, with my hugely practical Pa skippering us through rough waters. At times like that it is very helpful to have an engineer dad who keeps the machine running smoothly. Lovely old Pa.

The three decades since then have been an almost unbelievable voyage of discovering all and more of what she gave me, that she couldn’t help me find in person. Yet because she’s here in so much spirit it was just inevitable that some of the most insanely great encounters would fill these soft sails.

All that creative adventuring, and now it seems there are safe ports to rest in, at last. Enjoy safe harbour, find fires, seek out the sparks, and allow big lights to come on for the ‘thing back then’ and how it fits with the ‘happening over here now’, not to mention graciously acknowledging the ‘bizarre detour halfway along’.  Just sitting, watching and listening, accepting, like a dawning…

Life-giving. That’s what Sisterhood has been.

So this morning, 30-odd years later, I arrive at our studio here at The Forge for a day’s work and gorgeous Silkie catches me, a little tearful and wielding a top-heavy hydrangea stem – Ma’s birthday present. It’s a celebration of her and all the creative loving she’s passed on, a ‘thank you’, and a continuing promise to keep pursuing life, practising that ‘grace and peace’ walk, and cherish each wide open moment that shouts ‘YES!’ for our million and one ideas and inspirations.

Life—all it is and all it could be—is what this flower means today.

 

{Today’s Soundtrack: Luke Howard – Portrait Gallery}

A New Home

IMG_2421

How do you find ideas? How do ideas come to you?

Sometimes, the best thing you can do for your precious ideas is to set up home somewhere beautiful and put a few great things and people in place there, so as to coax those thoughts out into the safe shelter they need to grow. We all have different versions of this – what are your favourite things to have around you while you work, and is there a place where you find it just magically happens?

In one of my very first posts on this blog, I wrote about the wallpaper around us, the importance of noticing what you’re surrounded by and how this can affect your take on things whether you realise it or not. I think this is vital – in our world of coming up with good, fresh ideas, it’s essential to be conscious of the visual signals posted around you and the influence these will have on your quality of thought, and ultimately, expression of that thought too. Don’t be blind to these things – they affect you more than you know!

With that in mind, this post is a little tribute really. I am so excited and thankful to have a new creative home at The Forge. What a gorgeous place to call my home now, with other accomplished designers and illustrators. Being in a place like this helps me have better ideas just by walking in the building. I knew the first time I visited that my horizons were already bigger, my breath was deeper, my vision clearer. What sort of magic is this?! What makes this happen? The old bricks, the clean, white surfaces, the sun coming in, care taken over the few favourite and well-worn focal points that already exist, and enough room to add one or two of my own.

This space is a very special thing in the name of ideas. This table top pictured, I suspect, will be the base station for some really life-bringing chats and problem-solving. I think all of us here want that, and are keen to make it happen.

Thinking about what helps the best ideas out, as I land, here are some of the practical things I appreciate about my new space. It’s not really complicated, but good to consider:

A clean, clear table top with a view. Spacious. Room to spread out.

Tools that are sharp, full of ink, ready for action. Analogue. Never neglect your tools. Don’t be afraid of them leaking on your fingers either – proves you’re still flesh and blood. 

Smooth, clean paper. Moleskine and Artefact cards? Come on, you know this drill!

Big windows. Fresh air. 

Good tunes – when you need them, not all the time. Sometimes it’s important be quiet because ideas, like animals, can be shy. 

A carefully assembled palette of colours and textures around you – a theme of serenity for me, with the occasional slice of colour. Probably inspired by nature, yet also some cool, clean lines. (My RPS photographer grandmother loved these things too, I discovered recently.)

Plants. They breathe, like us, and need care and love, like us. A good visual prompt to take care of yourself too.

Books. Don’t have shelves of books you never read. Just pick out the ones that you know work for you – the ones that simply looking at the spine remind you of something valuable. 

And pictures. I try to avoid sticking any old thing up on the wall for the sake of it. Imagine this, that the wall in front of you echoes the state of your mind. Or the other way up, that same wall says everything opposite to what’s really going on in your mind. You have the power to control that! I find that my head normally has so much pinging around inside it, I really need calm on the outside in order to beckon everything out safely. Like I said, ideas are like animals.

Obviously having good kit and internet connection is massively helpful too – streamline smart thinking with Wunderlist, Evernote, calendar, but how nice when this just works …

One final thing. I make the decision not to be isolated. As an independent, I won’t suffer on my own in silence, and there’s something about moving to this new space that’s signposting a world of inspired, creative connection I’ve been craving. Listen to those hunches, even if it’s bloody frightening to act on them first of all. 

Wherever you are, happy days my friends, and I hope your spaces are blessed with much wonderful inspiration and your ideas feel more excited than ever to come out of hiding.

 

{Today’s Soundtrack: Natalie Merchant – San Andreas Fault}

Spaces in Springtime

image

There’s a hum in the air. It’s quite hard to sit still. Anyone know what I’m talking about?

Now Winter is wimpering, Spring sings its songs. They sound soft, gentle, a throat still warming up not yet ready for its full vocal throes until the chilly days have fully lost their final breath. After a winter of respecting frozen ground with nothing going in and nothing coming out, when Spring happens it’s not just seeds in the ground that start this wake-up hum. It’s us too, I think. It’s making regular things almost impossible, for me at least, and I hope you recognise the feeling.

The thing is, convenient as it would be to want no more than to sit patiently at a desk going through everything on that list, life has other ideas. Life does not revolve around a table top, however beautiful a space it is. However perfectly a space is arranged, neatly organised and elegantly coordinated, paperweight and pot plant perfectly positioned, this is only a glimmer of the real picture. However brilliant the playlist, good the coffee, ergonomic the chair…

Life—and what I can bring to that desk—is about all the things that happen when we respond to the wake-up hum and get out and behave in our creaturely ways, running about in big open spaces, facing each other, braving true conversations, putting our hands and feet to the work of walking it all together.

This Easter weekend I took M off to an old favourite place – St. Dogmaels in Cardigan, where I used to spend summers with one of my oldest friends and her family. No telly, crap phone signal, a wood burner and some booze. Gigantic skies and massive reflections in tide-soaked sands, and as I was losing count of the rainbows we clung to each other so as not to be blown away off tiny and wild little Mwnt, and talked about the things that both bring us here and beckon us on. It was a step aside and away and the view back on home life became clearer, more hopeful. We probably managed to chat in a way we don’t very often.

Sometimes sitting inside at our desks diligently, to patiently work through lists and ideas, is the most important thing and what amazing tools we have to help us do this.

But sometimes, when the sun comes after winter, maybe the only ‘right’ is to be outside, photosynthesising, facing the rays and warming up—come on freckles you remember what to do here!—and listen out for that soft hum of things waking up, and ever so gently, strike up with your own note and join in. Tune in to your songs again, find out where your harmony fits. Practice that, and then take it back inside again a better singer.

If you don’t feel much like sitting at your desk today, I reckon that’s okay.

 

{Today’s Soundtrack: PJ Harvey – We Float}