Rib-tickling, the power of quiet books, and a home-made tune

Story Street #24

Welcome to Story Street – a monthly newsletter from children’s author and illustrator Jane Porter. Read on for ramblings about my life as a picture book maker, community artist, comic diarist, under-confident fiddle player and very, very amateur luthier.

Strange as it might seem, I often spend summer craving rainy days and a little bit more darkness. Finally those conditions have arrived - perfect for getting on with projects, and reflecting on new ways of doing things. I’m someone who often tends to overcomplicate things (“don’t be too clever”, a picture book editor once told me, and it was good advice), and I had a revelation this month about how things that are very simple - and quiet - can be both more effective and more powerful. Read on to find out more. Meanwhile in violin news, I’ve been rib-bending and tune-writing!

I had a bad dose of sketchbook avoidance over the summer months, and found a multitude of excuses to do just about anything other than pick up a pencil. But I think I’ve finally got over the hump. My sister gave me a beautiful Pith Sketchbook for my birthday – the spine is left uncovered in these books so that they open perfectly flat – and it was time to try it. I’m planning to make a painting of the allotments in Berwick, so I lay down on the grassy ramparts under a big blue sky, gazed at the colourful sheds, and quickly remembered that I actually enjoy drawing a lot (and the sketchbook was lovely to use too).

Below is the sketching kit I took - including Panpastels, my favourite Derwent Inktense watercolour pencils, an old rag, and a little tin of watercolours. Alongside the cup of tea is my home-made one-person picnic mat, with Harris tweed on one side and waxed cotton on the other. I’ve been making these lately for family and friends and we’ve been joking about what to call them - suggestions include Unomat and Bumforter. Which do you prefer? Or have you got a better name? Let me know in the comments!

Not long afterwards, I met up with illustrator friend Sophie Ambrose for some tree sketching as we were both feeling a bit rusty, and we pledged to meet and draw once a month or so and egg each other on. Here’s Sophie drawing on a fallen oak tree…

…and you can read more from Sophie in her newsletter Painterly Post using the button below.

Winter tincture

At this time of year my eye always catches the orange glow of rose hips when I’m out in wild-ish places, and every autumn I think – I should make something with those. This year I finally got the chance, thanks to Jo Thomas’s Wild Hygge sessions, which happen once a month in Berwick-upon-Tweed around a fire pit, and are SO relaxing and interesting. I made a picture of elderberries using the actual fruit as paint, then we learned how to turn foraged treasures like rosehips, hawthorn berries and yarrow into a vitamin-packed syrup to ward off winter germs.

If you’d like to know more about connecting to the seasons through wild plants, do check out Jo’s Wild Revival newsletter here:

I wrote a tune!

Ever since I started fiddle classes at the Irish Cultural Centre, my tutor Michael has set all the students a summer challenge: to compose a tune. And year after year I’ve thought, “I should really try that, but it’s too hard and I don’t know how to start”. But this year, I did it – thanks to a week in May spent rowing on the river Shannon.

I went with my rowing club, and we took two traditional Thames Racing Skiffs across the Irish sea (by ferry I hasten to add). Here they are safely moored up at Portumna, Co. Galway:

On our last day we were due to cross Lough Derg – around 20 miles of rowing. We set off in blue skies and a gentle breeze, but on such a big lough even a tiny bit of wind soon resulted in waves too big for our little boats, and as they broke over our bows and water threatened to swamp us, we decided to pull into the safety of the nearest harbour.

As we waited for our trailer, I sat quietly on the quayside looking at the lough, and a tune came into my head inspired by the rhythm of the oars – so I sang it into my phone to save it. I’d composed a tune at last!

When I got home, I played it on my fiddle and shared it with the class. I can’t read or write music, so that’s as far as it went… until my birthday. THANKYOU to Johnny and all the Berrill family for transcribing my tune so I can share it – and for recording such a wonderful version of it (with two cellos, flute and piano no less): what a perfect present.

Here’s the tune: if you’re a fiddle player, do give it a try - and if you like it please feel free to share the dots. (Deep down I have a worry that I’ve subconsciously stolen an existing tune – if it already sounds familiar, break it to me gently please!).

The power of quiet books…

The Colour of the Sky is a beautiful new picture book from author/illustrator Layn Marlow, published by OUP Children’s. Layn and I have been friends a long time now and we’ve often talked about publishers’ resistance to ‘quiet’ books. Sadly they are often seen as not commercially viable - and yet there are millions of quiet, thoughtful children around the world who would love them. I know because I was one of them! Increasingly it’s the brash, bright, loud books that get the attention and sales.

This book is different - it’s gentle but powerful, and when I read it with my weekly nursery class they were enraptured. The story about a boy flying his grandfather’s kite, which is then snatched away by the wind, had them completely absorbed. One little boy said to me afterwards, very, very seriously, “they need to hold the kite like THIS” - and showed me his fist. His knuckles were white! An absolute vindication of quiet books. The watercolour artwork is gorgeous too. If you’d like a copy, there’s a handy link below this picture:

…and strength in simplicity

Every September I run an art activity at a local community event: Southfields Harvest. I’ve done all sorts over the years, from the appliqué banners that still go up every year, to a surreal map and a giant 3D harvest machine made of cardboard boxes, complete with dials and doors you could open. It’s all been a lot of fun but this year I was pressed for time so came up with a very quick, very simple activity - to decorate a fish template with collage scraps, mostly leftover from other projects. And the funny thing is, not only was it was the most popular activity I’ve ever run, it was also the easiest to organise. There’s a lesson there somewhere.

I think there’s something about having a shape to start with, but then the freedom to customise however you wish - but with good materials (paper scraps, shaped hole punches, tissue, old stamps, Lyra Ferby pencils, proper Pritt sticks) that opened the tap of the children’s creativity without overwhelming them about how to get started.

Here are some of the fish - I specially liked the twinned yellow ones.

Rib-tickling

Making a violin is definitely the LEAST simple thing I’ve ever attempted. I’ve been back in the workshop for year two of my violin-making course, and I have got to a very delicate part of the procedure: bending the ribs. I was excited to start, because for once no measuring was involved - you have to steam the ribs on a hot bending iron and make continuous adjustments by eye. ‘Easy’ I thought, relishing the thought of leaving the dreaded Vernier calipers in their box.

The aim is to gently bend the rib so it perfectly fits in the C-bout - those inward curves at the ‘waist’ of a violin. All the while the steamed wood emits a gentle sauna-like smell - so relaxing!

Needless to say it is much harder than I thought it would be. But I will persist and maybe by Christmas my ribs might be done - wish me luck.

Brushing up nicely

I’m going to leave you with some exciting plant news. A while ago my mum gave me a cutting from her Haemanthus albiflos - otherwise known as the paintbrush plant. It has leaves that remind me of Mick Jagger’s tongue. I put the plant amongst some other brushes, and they must have said something encouraging because a year later, look what happened:

I’m tempted to do some painting with it.

If you enjoyed this edition of Story Street, do share with friends - and if you haven’t already subscribed, use the button below to make sure you don’t miss any in the future (it’s free). See you in November.