It's been an interesting week, a bit of printing and dyeing, a fall down my stairs and a thanking my stars that I have a little paid work upcoming and excitement about a forthcoming showcase exhibition in York for the society of dyers and colourists http://www.sdc.org.uk/
The printing is a continuation and an amalgamation of a couple of projects I am working on. In 2013 I was given a bursary by the sdc to set up a dye kitchen in my work space. I was able to buy a set of scales, some dyes and some fabric with the money they gave me and it really made a difference to me. It allowed me to deepen my knowledge of how different dyes work on different fibres and as knowledge deepens it becomes know-how and that know-how opens up new pathways to explore.
From the sdc project, detailed on my website http://beccajiclfford.weebly.com/projects.html, sprang the work that I made for the Blue Jacket Textile fair in September 2014. I experimented using traditional shibori techniques, folding and tying to dye with rust and indigo and cyanotypes and had some interesting results which at some point, hopefully soon, I will post on my blog and document on my website. 
But this week I have been using dye and print to take my prayer wall project a little further. My prayer wall project is very close to my heart. A creative journey that just seems to give and give and give. A journey that seems to have a way of it's own, a way that I am quietly following and trusting. Is that the nature of prayer ? Is that the nature of creative process ? Where does one start and anther finish ? I don't know. And starting and finishing are also mutable points. But for the record, for my record, amongst other things I have been working on this week I have now begun a new chapter in my prayer wall project that feels like it could be rewarding.  

And today I had a bonfire in my garden in the afternoon as the moon was rising and the blackbirds were calling bedtime. I noticed that two clumps of primroses have started to flower and tho' it is still bitterly cold it is beginning to feel like spring is on the way with my camelia bush heavy with bud and the leaves of spring bulbs pushing through.

I've been hankering for a little sea air for a while now, so on saturday I gave myself the space to stretch my legs and breathe in some salt and to think in a place where the wind could blow away my thoughts and the cold could cut through my densest reasoning. 
I took the train to Cromer and walked, with the sea to my side, to Sheringham. For some reason I generally go from Sheringham to Cromer, cutting inland at West Runton, when I walk this stretch of coast. Funny how easy it is to get fixed in a habit. So for a small change I did it in reverse, which of course meant that I saw things differently, which maybe also allowed me an alternative view into my self too. 
I've been wondering who I am of late. A beach walk with photographs to prove my existence in a time and place perhaps offers me something more substantial than my ongoing life which feels insecure. Maybe it is the lack of witness that makes it feel that way. 
I know that doubt and uncertainty are often creative fields to plough but with the sense of possibility comes also fear, fear of the unknown, fear of change and fear of making a mistake. I'm a bit prone to fear. It is a feeling that I battle in situations that don't require fear at all. Battling with that level of anxiety is quite disabling. 
I'm not quite sure why that has come up whilst writing this blog post, which is nominally about a walk on a beach, but I think maybe it is pertinent to my being, my work, my integrity, and who I am, so I'll leave it in and make a casual assumption that blogs are alot like diaries and not read by many people other than the writer. 
This photo is my favourite from my walk. It is looking back at Cromer pier from some distance and I like the reflections of the sky and cliffs on the wet sand. 

   

On sunday I went to my local cemetery to gather ivy berries for dyeing with. The morning had been bright and clear but by mid afternoon the light had started to close in and it was a little creepy. In the older part there were many new or newly marked graves which made death a presence more keenly felt than was comfortable. 
However there were flowers, aconites, snowdrops and crocus. And this pretty garland hung about a tree by a grave for an old lady called Blyth.

 

And today whilst gardening I found snowdrops in bud. My photographs of snowdrops rarely do them justice and the thrill of that first glimpse is very hard to capture so I haven't tried. However, although it is still chilly my heart is looking towards spring whilst still revelling in the glorious wide open skies that winter gives us.   

I've a taken a few months leave from my blog, the summer had been good for me but I felt a need to retreat into silence and solitude for a while, and then that while turned into a longer while and so three months have passed. I have doodled a little, but mainly been in deep thought, resting and recharging my creative spirit and doing practical things like painting and decorating and gardening. Sometimes I blog about my garden but even that felt secret this autumn. 
However, here to kick off the new year is a photo of a winter heliotrope which is in bloom at the moment. It's a slightly strange plant, not really pretty but it has a sweet scent and is one of only a few plants currently in flower. I would say that if I moved I would keep it contained in a new garden as it is  invasive, and not quite lovely enough to get away with it's spreading habit. All the same a flower is a flower and it's hard not like a plant that is brave enough to bloom in winter.