Today is a good day; after getting home late last night from painting a flat in York, I woke up surrounded by the softest cuddles from the three men in my life. Josh, my husband; Risby, our five year old golden child (spaniel); and Bo; our eighteen month terror (also of the spaniel variety). With one under each arm, and one on my head (I’ll let your imagination run wild here) I am truly grateful for these mornings of licks, giggles and snuggles. There’s another important party in this picture, our unborn baby, who is softly tossing and turning as I wake, this later will of course be a brutal kick to the ribs or bladder, but right now, we’re just content with rolly-pollies.
After a few hours of gentle house tidying, I made my way to my dream job, not painting white walls, (although, I love these clients and that makes all the difference) but working on the Indie Mega Mural at Cafe INDIEpendent. We have three large panels laid out on the floor, where people can come and contribute a piece of art inspired by three prompts and I love it! This is my passion, not just creating art, but helping people to create in their own way.
Really, it feels like this is too easy sometimes. I show up with loads of paint, and then offer a space filled with freedom, for others to create. For the four year old boy that wants to pour paint everywhere – go wild. For the teenage girls that just needed a chance to set the world straight whilst doodling. For the insanely talented young man that took three weeks of just seeing me before he was brave enough to dive into the paint pots. And the art friends that come along to support me, more than to actually paint. This is my job. Yes, job. And believe me, no-one is more surprised about it than I am.
Not only did I get to go to my dream job, but today, Josh came with me, who of course is my all time favourite human! I love that I get to bring him into my crazy art world, where we can share the happiness of seeing others paint and be free.
I’m now back at home, having chucked a load of sawdust in with the chickens and ducks, got into my PJ’s and whacked the heating on full. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, with a reheated Chinese takeaway, writing this first blog post. Oh, and did I mention, I’m 7 months pregnant.
I want to say right now, that this blog isn’t going to be all about babies and pregnancy, but for this post, it’s an important part of the story, and so I ask you to bear with me!
I’ve been an artist for as long as I can remember. Trying to earn from it for more years than I care to admit, and a full time “artist as a job” type artist for nearly two years. As anyone doing this will tell you, it’s tough being an artist, don’t get me wrong, days like today that feed your soul and family (quite literally) are not tough in the slightest bit - they’re magical, and the reason I go through the tough bits. But the years of fighting and getting turned down over and over again, and the restless nights filled with money worries, aren’t fun.
The year before finding out I was pregnant, being a freelance artist was incredibly successful, in my world of success anyways. I managed to pay all of my bills as a freelancer, I created the first community mural in Scunthorpe with 40 fantastic individuals, secured two “big jobs” with the local council and successfully launched Whine & Watercolour. The art world seemed to be opening up in North Lincolnshire and I found my happy place between business woman and artist.
When I found out I was pregnant, my hormonal brain made some pretty big assumptions about my future as an Artist. “You’re going to have to take time off - everyone will forget you and there will be no work for you to return to.” “No-one will want to hire you when you’re pregnant - too unreliable” “If you go back to work after having your baby - you’re a bad Mom. So let’s just call it now - goodbye art FOREVER” This was of course six months ago, and I’ve had time to process and talk to my business coach, Rachel, at Harbour.
Although a long time ago I put these thoughts (and many others) into an “absolutely ridiculous pile” and figured out that art would continue - I never quite knew how. Working from home - yes, that was an option, but right now I make a large percentage of my income via workshops and murals. Take a baby with me? - maybe. But also maybe not, and also maybe yes one week but not the week after.
Then, whilst in York, I swapped out my “Positive Birth” audiobook for “The Freelance Mum” where Annie Ridout, Author and Freelance Mum spoke about running a business and being a mum at the same time. One thing that stood out was when she spoke about how to use a blog on your website. I have that function, obviously, and have always wanted to utilise it, but what do I talk about? Then, Annie spoke about her first journalism role, visiting gigs and exhibitions, interviewing the creatives surrounding these and it all just hit me. I’m going to talk about the creative scene I know and love.
Since leaving my role at The Crosby Collective, I’ve wanted to feed the part of me that cheers others on, I miss being a friend to listen to when little businesses are struggling, or celebrate in their successes; but for a little while, I needed to step away from the role of supporter, and support myself (you can’t pour from an empty cup).
The idea that we need something in one place that discusses the creative scene in Scunthorpe has been pitched and bounced around over and over again. It’s not a new idea, and it’s not “mine”. Ideas from shops, to a “yellow pages” of talent, to a podcast have all been pitched- but nothing ever took off. This might not - words aren’t really my forte, and I never thought of myself as the person for the job; but, as workshops and murals slow down for a little while, and maternity pay covers the bills, maybe this is the opportunity for me to take the time to talk to the fantastic community that I know and love.
It’s a saying that I have – I didn’t know I had it until a friend and all round fantastic creative, Kat Spence said it back to me one day. For me, I think of a pot of paint, dressed in a cape and mask like a brilliantly cheesy superhero – and all the wonderful things it can do. It could be that you just paint a wall in your house, it suddenly becomes “your home”, a safe place to be yourself. Or, that paint could be thrown at a canvas with an almighty bellow as a teenager lets out all the anger she has about her scumbag cheat of an ex. It could create a mural in a place where the community feels forgotten, telling them that we care, and we see them. Paint has power – and everyone deserves to connect to this with their magic wand of a paint brush. I want to tell the stories of how the power of paint (and creativity in general) have affected lives in Scunthorpe, and how in our grey steel town, bright colours exist.
Thank you for tuning into my first post, I really hope you enjoyed it. I’ll be back next week with another tale to tell all about the Power of Paint!
