Sanderlings - patinated and painted copper and brass on reclaimed section of whisky barrel stave

It seems like it’s been a long winter this year. I confess to being a big lover of winter with its cosy nights and stark landscapes that show off the bare bones of trees denuded of leaves. Winter brings a stillness that I crave by the end of the year. There can be too much of a good thing though and I’m now more than ready to see bright blue skies and springtime blossoms. The weekend just gone brought us exactly that. Crisp sunny mornings followed by long days that held the warmth of the sun. I took the chance to wander round our local creek in the hopes of spotting early spring blooms. I wasn’t disappointed.

Yellows, blues and greens were a welcome sight on my creekside walk.

On the previous day I popped down to the shoreline at high tide for a quick breath of sea air. I always go with my binoculars in my pocket - just in case. A tiny wren hopping around the rocks by the sea wall was the first bird to put in an appearance. I hadn’t expected to train my bino-sights on a garden bird but it was oblivious to my presence so I spent a happy moment watching it catching bugs in close up. So lovely to see all the tiny details of its plumage. As I carried on watching the little wren I heard the unmistakable flapping of swan’s wings. There followed the most breathtaking display of two swans circling the creek before regally swooping over and above the distant trees to who knows where. Finally, a group of sanderlings clung to the space just above the water as they flew en masse in a delightful flurry of chirrups, darts and dashes. A creekside murmuration.

To my credit I made no attempt to take photos of these charming birds. I’m no wildlife photographer, rather, I choose to relish the moment and simply look. I did take some photos of the creek on my walk which will give a sense of place at least…

Today is still clear but much colder than yesterday so it has been a joy to look through these photos and remember walking in the springtime sunshine!

Just spent a few days with my auntie in West Sussex, a beautiful part of England that is ripe for inspiration.

It was great to spend some quality time with my dear old auntie. She takes a lot of naps these days so while she was resting I took the chance to explore the local area. Her lane is peppered with the quaintest cottages, many of them thatched. The attention to detail is incredible. It’s impossible not to think of the craftspeople that built these beautiful homes and the present day thatchers that keep the tradition alive. The combination of wood, thatch and whitewash is as old as the hills. As usual, materials that function well together also have an enduring aesthetic that’s impossible not to respond to. Natural raw materials seem to work on a human level that feeds our soul.

Leaving the domestic lanes behind I explored the local footpaths and took an enchanting walk in the twilight. There’s a well worn path that rises to a ridge with a breathtaking view over the nearby chalk downs. Such vast horizons are a welcome change from the narrow lanes around the village. The expanse of sky revealed the earliest stars making their appearance, you can just about see them in the picture below. Following the ridge, the path leads down towards a stream in a wood. The last moments of daylight were caught on the sparkling water of the stream and even on the puddles underfoot (it rained a lot the previous night!).

There’s something evocative about dusk. I love to walk in nature just as the day is ending. It feels quiet and slow, allowing thoughts to descend and settle just as stars and owls emerge to welcome in the night.

Autumn may be a time of mists and mellow fruitfulness but its also a time for fungi. I absolutely love these tiny organisms, the way the push up through the damp autumn soil or appear in crooks of branches. Artists and illustrators have been inspired by these amazing feats of nature since forever. Has their been an illustrated book of fairy-tales that doesn’t include the archetypal fly agaric? Some have suddenly appeared in my garden, I say suddenly because they literally appear overnight. The fly agaric seems to like being near our silver birches.

The garden is also graced with puffballs (or puffies as I knew them as a kid). These apparently make good eating when they’re young - unlike the fly agaric which is a definite no, no! In their first appearance they look innocent enough, white and round like a mushroom should be, but as time goes on they dry up and begin to release their smokey spores. Me and my childhood pals used to giggle with excitement when we came across their dried out husks before unceremoniously stamping on them to see their wisps of ‘smoke’. Oh the joys of a 70s childhood!

Interestingly, ancient excavations have unearthed caches of dried out puffballs, always alongside bee keeping paraphernalia. It is thought that the fungi were used to render the bees sleepy so ancient folks could safely collect their honey. Smart thinking!

Along with my family, I recently found myself in a forest on the edge of Loch Tay. A beautiful spot in every direction but what really attracted our attention was a glade full of the tiniest toadstools. My 13 year old daughter loves a bit of nature photography so we spent a happy afternoon focusing of the forest floor and trying to capture the most delicate nature of these enticing fungi. So magical!

Its all very well becoming transfixed by the natural world but where does it lead us? In my case, these tiny details often find their way into my metalwork…as in this little tableaux featuring a mouse nibbling a toadstool. Keep an eye on my socials for more metalwork that might just include some tiny fungi.

My last blog post was all about making hare automata. As we know, hares love to live in grassland full of wildflowers, an idyll that I try to capture in my pieces. I thought I’d go in closer and look at the tiny colourful details that pop up in my automata to enhance the scene. ‘Pop up’ is a good way of putting it as I really hope that these little details make the colours ‘pop’. See below for my latest automata complete with brightly coloured flowers to make my gardener’s plants zing!

Enamelled details ready to go in place

Spot the flowers in position!

Some years ago I was given a dusty old box of enamel powders that would have otherwise been thrown out. Aside from having a tinker with these magic powders when I was a student I hadn’t used enamels in any serious way before. But I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth so I happily accepted the box of tricks and started to play. The box included a set of half a dozen colours and a battered old tea strainer. Enamel powders need to be sifted onto metal to achieve a smooth finish and in this case the previous ingenious maker had turned to their kitchen cupboards for help. In reality a much finer mesh than a tea strainer is needed. It was a start though. I soon discovered that tiny spots of bright enamels could add depth to my creations and I’ve continued to add them to pieces ever since. It has opened up a wider world of colour for me as before this point I relied on cutting up tiny bits of old sardine tins to add intense colour to my pieces. I still do this too when the need arises.

The following is a little photo essay. I hope it gives an insight into some of the stages of making and colour changes in the evolution of my tiny enamelled flower details. Enjoy!

marked up for cutting

better idea of size

cut, filed and drilled

foundation enamel sifted on top

ready for a torch firing

foundation layer fired

yellow powder layer applied

yellow layer fired and hot!

Cooled yellow layer

A final acknowledgement is needed here because in 2019 I was the proud winner of the David Canter Memorial Award. The award is a grant offered through Make Southwest on a biannual basis. Its open to makers living in the Southwest of England who have completed their training but are looking to extend their skills. The specialism changes each time so one year it might be open to ceramicists then two years later metalworkers and so on. It was due to this fantastic grant that I was able to purchase a lovely new enamelling kiln with all the kit to get me started. Big thanks to Make Southwest and the David Canter Memorial Fund!

We’re fast approaching the time of year when hares get frisky in the fields. This has prompted me to offer you a closer look at one of the automata that I make regularly - Meadowlands. The automata features a pair of boxing hares and the title is a play on the word ‘ganglands’ (just in case you didn’t get it!). Happily, boxing hares are engaging in an aspect of their lives that ensures their survival - they’re dating, flirting, playing hard-to-get and mating. I have some sympathy for the females who, by necessity, spar with the males to maintain some control over their reproductive rights. It is to our benefit that this happens in open fields so we have the chance to witness one of the wonders of nature.

Back in the old days I took a bus to school that wound its a way along the Moray coast. The area is renowned for its fields of barley grown to supply the local whisky industry. Our bus chugged along the edges of these fields and I was often able to watch spring hares boxing in the fields when the barley was young. Even as a teenager I appreciated my good luck in having such an inspiring view on my way to school. I still see the hares on my visits back to Moray which always feels like a precious gift. Since moving south I’m afraid I’ve only ever spotted one Cornish hare. I suspect the landscape of south Cornwall doesn’t suit them and certainly, at the moment, the fields are so wet from endless rain that the hares would need boats! There’s an idea for my next automata.

If these hares look like a perfect gift you can find them here on my website.

So, as always, a new idea starts with a little bit of scribbling in a sketch book, then some paper cutting before committing my thoughts to metal. Copper is the perfect metal to capture the essence of hares, I love the fact that it takes on such warm earthy tones when its heated. It gives the best canvas on which to construct little dioramas of British wildlife. My next blog post will have more to say on this subject…

Wow, geez, this is a tricky old time of year. Dark, stormy, windswept. Energy and inspiration can be difficult to find in January and February so I thought I’d give you my take on how to get through it. I’m not one for Veganuary, or dry January as I like to keep my options open in order to keep my spirits up in the depths of winter. This can mean oozy, dripping cheese toasties or a snifter of something decadent to keep the cold away. Not the time of year to go without as far as I’m concerned. But…I’m quite into New Year’s Resolutions (as long as I get to pick them). To my mind they need to be enriching, good for the soul and easy to keep. Otherwise, what’s the point? Set yourself a goal you’re unlikely to meet? Hmmm. I don’t think that’s the way to dispel the winter blues.

My resolution for this year is to be more creative. Its a really open intention which means I’ll have half a chance of keeping it. It may sound a bit too easy with me running a creative business but that’s kind of the point. Running a business has so many sides to it that creativity can easily be lost to the needs of admin, social media, book keeping, website maintenance etc. It can be a challenge to keep all those plates spinning in the air at once so I’ve made a decision to make sure that I keep nurturing my creative side. Now that its February I’m happy to say that I’m managing to keep up with things. I’m doing a bit more sketching and I’m writing too, for no other reason than to amuse myself. Both of these pass times feed into my creative practise and will hopefully bring new ideas as the year progresses. So keep your eyes peeled for new automata, new jewellery and new metalwork. Exciting! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy some snapshots of pages from my sketchbooks. Raw and unedited. These are just passing thoughts scribbled into little books and stored up for future makes. Creativity doesn’t need to be high end or demanding. I’m determined to keep my resolution fun and enjoy being a bit more creative!

A trip back to my childhood home for Christmas inspires much anticipation. I look forward to spending time with family and old friends. I can’t wait to see familiar places, feel the tingle of the fresh cold air on my cheeks and smell the heady fragrance of a forest of winter pines. Another source of excitement is the night sky. I grew up on the Moray coast where the population is small so light pollution is minimal, as a result the sky can seem endless. On clear nights in winter the sky becomes so dark that it feels like a blanket of inky black velvet above us (rather than chilling thoughts of aliens this gives me a warm feeling of protection). Clear winter nights also support immeasurable stars. My childhood bedroom had a big skylight window so I regularly fell asleep whilst keeping half an eye on a theatre of twinkling stars. Sometimes, even the Northern Lights.

So, I headed north for the festive season with high hopes. I wanted to share the magic of the night sky with my southern based family. However, snow, rain and wind plotted against me. There were only moments of clear sky amongst the maelstrom. Not enough to appreciate the full majesty of a night full of endless silver stars. Too stormy for the breathtaking magic of Northern Lights too… but… it turns out that nature’s mysteries have not finished with me yet. A new phenomenon appeared in the sky. My daughter alerted me to it with sudden and urgent cries of ‘Mum…look…come and look!’

It was breakfast time (9am-ish in December in Moray). There was a beautiful glowing sunrise but what my daughter had spotted and I had missed was an array of clouds the colour of rainbows. I ran upstairs following her persistent cries and looked south east from her bedroom window. There in the sky were the most beautiful fluffy clouds in all the pearly colours of the rainbow.

They remained in the sky for quite sometime until the sun was fully up. Later in the day as the sun began to set (3ish - still December in Moray!) the rainbow clouds returned.

The beauty and magic of the clouds was profound and has prompted much thought since. The clouds we spotted in the afternoon were softer and more subtle than the morning ones. We agreed they looked more like mother-of-pearl than rainbows. In this age of instant information it was inevitable that we would reach for our smart phones - we discovered that such clouds are called nacreous clouds, coming from the word nacre - mother-of-pearl. We also found out they are rare in the UK, even in the north of Scotland. They usually appear in polar regions where tiny ice crystals, high in the sky, sometimes reflect light in all its beautiful iridescence.

We had our understanding. We had our scientific term. I prefer to look in wonder and take in the moment. We had few stars this Christmas and no Northern Lights but we had moments of unadulterated joy just by noticing the rising and setting sun. In years to come I will remember this Christmas for its rainbow clouds.

In the sprit of explaining where I get my ideas from I wanted to share some thoughts. My previous post was all about summer activities in Scotland. This one is about an idea that came about during a visit to Brittany.

I spent the last week of the summer hols cycling around a quiet corner of northern Brittany. Wonderful! The area was a hidden gem surrounded by fields of vegetables: cabbages, pumpkins, artichokes, onions and lettuces. Truly, Brittany must feed all of the good folk of France. I couldn’t get enough of the views of long lines of produce making its way up through the sun-baked soil. But what really captured my imagination was an old stone built well at the edge of the fields. Presumably this well was crucial in allowing local farmers to keep their crops irrigated so they could produce vegetables in such abundance. A spring bubbled up in the centre of the well and as I approached a multitude of frogs leaped from the edge into the water. The plopping sounds of their escape was enchanting! I managed to get a picture of a handsome chap before he disappeared into the depths.

The combination of sunshine, cycling, farming and frogs set my grey matter alight! Years ago I attempted to make a paper model of a frog on a bicycle. I never got round to making a metal version but I am now inspired to go back to it. I may add a pumpkin or two…. or perhaps some onions. Watch this space…!

After a long and unpredictable summer I have stories a plenty to share. The first focuses on the blaeberry, a humble berry that grows amongst the pine woodlands of Scotland (I’m sure they would grow in Cornwall too but there aren’t many pine trees here). They’re smaller than the more familiar blueberry and tastier for it.

Summer always includes a family gathering on the Moray coast and this year we fitted in an afternoon of blaeberry picking. Blessed with good weather I can honetly say that this is one of my favourite hobbies. Doesn’t have to be blaeberry’s, I’m just as happy picking wild plums, brambles or sloes. The thing is that this hobby can only happen in good weather, you just wouldn’t choose to forage on a dull or rainy day. So, all my memories are of sunny times spent in fields of gold or amongst tall pine trees with rays of sunshine filtering down through the boughs. The satisfaction of helping yourself to nature’s larder is enhanced by jars of jam, pies and tipples! And as we all know, getting out in nature is a wonderful thing. This year’s venture into the woods meant encounters with hares, rabbits, butterflies, birds, bright purple heather and the odd roe deer. Food for the heart, soul and stomach!

This is all very well but what has it do with making automata and jewellery? Well, there’s a story…

An auntie once gave me a book entitled ‘Northern Lights. Fairy Tales of the Peoples of the North’. I loved it as a child and hung on to it as an adult. I recently read the stories to my youngest daughter only to be reminded how wild the stories are. My little girl couldn’t understand why such outrageous things happened in the tales - girls hiding in sticks, boys turning into ducks - so we talked about the context of the tales. They’d have been shared around a campfire on cold winter nights, no telly, no smart phones just whistling winds and howling wolves for company so an outrageous tale to capture the imagination and help the dark nights go by would have been crucial. A particular favourite of these tales is ‘The Blueberry’, a fable from the Nenets people:

A tiny girl lived alone and spent all her days sewing. She was disturbed by 3 men who decided she must marry one of them. They stole her away in a little iron box. As they made off through the forest the tiny girl made her escape through the keyhole of the box. Alas, she was lost in the woods and in her despair sat on a nearby branch and wept. She wept till she was blue in the face and inadvertently turned herself into a tiny blueberry. No matter how hard the men looked for her they couldn’t find her. And that explains why you have to look hard when picking blueberries, they are tiny and hide behind their leaves!

Food for thought. One day I will figure out an automata for this tale, until then I hope you enjoyed the story.

Before I forget what I got up to on those Cultivator Mixers I wanted to share the second 2 workshops I took part in. These happened back in May so I’m stretching my memory a bit - you might need to look at my previous post if you need some background into Cultivator Mixers.

The first event happened at Cast in Helston. It was my first visit to this amazing creative space, in fact, part of the reason I booked it was so I could go and have a nosy around Cast. I wasn’t disappointed. Cast is a beautiful old granite building in Helston, once a school but now home to a community of creatives, and a lovely cafe. All sorts of things go on in this wonderful place. Click the link above for all the details.

The session was run by Amy Brock Morgan and Darn (again, click the links for more deets). We were in safe and creative hands. The day comprised of some fun and freeing drawing games followed by sewing. I took along an old and much beloved woollen sock which I hoped to mend - I wasn’t disappointed. I learned to successfully darn the heal of a sock! My granny used to do this for me and I regret that I never learned to do it for myself. The sad fact is that when I was young, and had my granny around, my socks were cheap things that were barely worth mending. Now, I treat myself to luxury woollen socks that I want to last so I’m delighted I now know how to repair them. I’m even looking forward to cosy winter evenings when I can find some peace and darn my socks! (at this point I should let you know that one of my daughters works for a slow fashion cooperative called Stitched Up. She teaches the good people of Manchester how to sew and mend their clothes. She will be proud of me.)

The drawing games were fun but over too quickly. This is something I need to get back to. I feel the need to explore drawing in more creative ways again. Funny how running a creative business can challenge creativity. There’s so much to do on the admin and digital side of things - it was great to have a reminder that drawing soothes the soul. Must get my digital diary out to make a note to do more!

Drawing games with Darn

This is me drawn by the amazing Teija Eilola, a Finnish fashion designer based in Cornwall. The game was to do a 5 minute drawing without looking at the paper. The orange and lemons were used as an aid to darning and in place of those lovely old wooden darning mushrooms. A revelation!

Loveland

Who wouldn’t want to spend a day taking part in a workshop on Loveland? Again I chose this workshop because I knew of Loveland (its very near where I live) but I’d never been there. Nosey parker strikes again! Thank goodness I had the sense to sign up because this was the best session of the lot. For a start it was all outdoors and the weather was perfect - goldilocks weather, not too hot, not too cold.

Loveland belongs to St Gluvias Church in Penryn, Cornwall. The church has done a deal with the local food coop to allow them to cultivate and care for the land for the benefit of the community. What a lovely thing - more details via the link.

We were encouraged to take part in a group meditation before taking a long moment to sit and observe our surroundings. I must admit I bristled at this a wee bit as this is something I do as a matter of course and it was presented as though it was a revelation. However, I had a word with myself and settled into the group experience - normally I would pause and take in my surroundings solo. I must admit that being given permission to stop and just observe was a beautiful thing. It eased my mind. Someone else was looking after the time so I didn’t bother to think about it. The day only got better.

The main event was a group painting of a huge canvas. Again, my first response was to bristle! Group painting? Sounds like a 60s love in! Another word with myself was required. So I surrendered to the process. This was helped enormously by the others taking part who were all lovely women up for making the most of a creative day out. Its that word permission. I stopped worrying about what was expected of me (what I expected of myself?), grabbed a paintbrush, a tub of runny paint and approached the canvas. We were given a few minimal directions which helped to provide a bit of focus, but to be honest, I just really enjoyed dabbing colours around without a plan. The finished canvas looked joyous!

This was followed by a foraged lunch cooked over an open fire. It was delicious. I know not what else I can say!

The day was run by Naomi Hannam of Creative Roots and Kitty Hillier. I hope my photos do the day justice.

The eagle eyed amongst you may have noticed that I have been fortunate enough to receive arts council funding to support my business.  This came from Cultivator Cornwall, a thriving artistic community which has been a pillar of support for local creatives. Sadly, Cultivator is winding its operations down as funding revenues change.  Rather than organising a farewell party the good folk at Cultivator invited everyone it had ever supported to a series of ‘mixers’.  I was able to attend four of these wonderful workshops which brought Cultivator clients together.

The mixers were a range of workshops that were run by the diverse creative community that thrives in Cornwall.  They ranged from arts and crafts, to performance, to writing and each one included a sit-down meal to bring people together.  I chose making orientated workshops and was able to learn some new skills while getting to know fellow creatives.  The first event was an electronic automata workshop with Discover42.  Then came an illustration session, a lesson in darning and finally a beautiful morning spent painting outdoors. Each workshop was so enriching that I’m compelled to go into details about them all, however, that’s too much information for one post so I’ll just make a start with the first two: automata making and illustration.

The workshop at Discovering42 - electronics, discarded toys, good company and good food!

Disccovering42 is an amazing privately run museum in Bodmin. It is situated in an old park pavilion and is crammed full of the most exciting contraptions that explain how things work - the forces of gravity, nature and electronics etc.  (the name refers to the infamous question about the meaning from Douglas Adams’ ‘The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’). Our workshop taught us how to wire up lights and motors to make an automaton move at the flick of a switch.  Obviously, I was keen to learn more about making automata but I was delighted to have someone show me how to wire up a switch. My early education was great, lots of art and music but, as a girl at school in the 80s I was not allowed anywhere near a metal, wood or electronics workshop. I was always so impressed when boys in my class managed to wire up lights and make things work. It seemed like dark magic. So, it was with a sense of betrayal that I discovered just how straightforward it is to wire a motor up to a switch and make things move! I felt rather let down my gendered education. Happily, with the help of Discovering 42 and Cultivator I had the best fun constructing a bunch of toy sausages with a tiny bit of electronics to make a wild automata that worked at the flick of a switch. Definitely food for thought! You’ll get a feel for the atmosphere of the workshop in this video…

If you are ever anywhere near Bodmin then be sure to book a slot at Discovering42 and take kids with you! 

The second workshop came courtesy of Freya Moses, a multi talented illustrator who brought out my inner child as we revelled in shocking colours and bold shapes. Definitely not my usual place to be so it was thrilling to get involved in a new experience. Freya encouraged us to play with colour, texture and pattern. I learnt new ways of putting things together and new funky ways of making cards. If any of you have been in the Guild of Ten lately, you’ll know that I make one off papercut cards that sell only in this gallery. Freya gave me some great tips on making cards in slightly different ways. I have yet to put these into practise but they’re on my list!

Playing with Funky Materials

Card Stamps and Iron On Patches

More next time on painting and darning!

In a world dominated by mass production and technology its great to know that there's still an inherent longing for the charm and authenticity of handcrafted treasures.  In appreciation of this interest, I thought it was about time I applauded the popularity of one of my best-selling pieces.  This piece has captured the hearts of followers, enthusiasts and collectors alike. Its also one of the first automata designs I ever created.

‘Midnight Ramblers’ is an homage to all those strollers that I see walking their dogs late into the evening around the lanes of Cornwall.  An homage to dog lovers! It’s a pass time that is repeated throughout the world by so many different people. I’m sure this explains some of the popularity of this design.  I also like to think that my attention to detail and the combination of patinated copper, brass and reclaimed hardwood help to make this piece a winner.  I hope the aesthetics transport you to a whimsical realm of companionship, imagination and craftsmanship.

The process begins with sketches on paper. I have a library of paper templates on hand in my workshop. The first picture in the gallery below shows my library of common templates. I've drawn and cut each and every one! Labels were hastily written in pencil so I’ll run through the top row just to give you the gist:

• People (incl. kite flyer)

• Dogs and 1 goat

• Fox and Owl

• Hares

• Butterflies and Dragonfly

I have to say that I sometimes get a warm feeling when I realise that this is what I keep in my filing system!

You will notice that I’m amassing a plethora of different breeds of dog in my store. This has been at the request of customers who have ordered bespoke pieces to include their own dog. I love that I’m able to provide this service. There’s nothing like owning your own piece of art which includes your own family pet. Goes without saying that I work with other animals too (hence the goat in the my list!).

The next set of images show some of the processes involved in making ‘Midnight Ramblers’. The paper templates are used as a guide to cut sheet copper which then has tiny tubes of brass soldered in place to hold the stem of the automata mechanism. The copper gets pretty filthy during the soldering process so needs to be cleaned before patination. After cleaning it goes a dull salmony pink colour. The third picture shows this off well as the base of the piece with the tree in the background has not been cleaned, whilst the dog and walker have been. You can clearly see the difference in the surfaces of the copper.

The second image lays out the two figures with all the component parts that go in to making the mechanism, as well as a brass label, and a recycled tin scarf and collar. They all come together once the base has been patinated. In this case the characters are in a sylvan setting with a leafy tree, flying bird and some daffodils in the foreground. The beauty of these pieces is that small changes can provide endless variety depending on the wishes of the customer.

To see more details or to order Midnight Ramblers click here.

Just a close up on my copper daffodils finished with a golden leaf…

One of Fi’s automata in Falmouth Art Gallery

Its been 10 years since I started using my metal working skills to make automata. To mark the occasion I decided to see if I could add to my knowledge of mechanics and make some more elaborate pieces. With the support of a skills grant from Cultivator Cornwall I was given the exciting opportunity to take part in a one-to-one workshop with Fi Henshall.  Fi is an incredible maker whose vivid imagination and vision is matched only by her impressive making skills.  The workshop was an amazing experience that taught me so much more about the intricacies of mechanical movement and will definitely help me reach my goal.

 Fi has years of experience creating hand crafted automata. I first saw her work in Falmouth Art Gallery, a fabulous gallery well worth a visit – have a browse on their website here. It has an amazing collection of pieces made by automata artists from the Falmouth area (I was honoured to show one of my pieces in their exhibition A Cabaret of Mechanical Movement back in 2019).

Fi has a gift for storytelling which may come from the fact that she grew up in a bookshop.  Her workshop was full of the most amazing creations, all with their own intricate narratives. In fact, her entire workshop is like an automaton.  It is sited in the belly of a barge which floats on the Penryn River.  At high tide there is a Heath Robinson style method of entry to the barge. There are steep steps down a primrose covered bank (there’s a handy rope for stability!) after that there’s a short trip in a dinghy - also operated by rope, finally another scramble up a vertical wooden ladder – and voila!  Fi’s incredible barge workshop!

From the outset, I knew I was in good hands. Once I’d been provided with a steaming cuppa Fi went over the basics of mechanical movement and how it relates to the creation of an automaton.  She expanded my understanding of gears, cams, and linkages and showed me how to use them to create new movement in my automaton. We were able to swap and share our knowledge of metals. So important to get the right sort for the right job.

 You might have spotted that I often include birds in my work.  I was keen to figure out how to put the bird centre stage and get its wings to move.  Fi suggested a couple of different methods to make this work.  It was a tricky balance of anchoring supports in just the right place whilst also making them strong enough yet nimble enough to make the right movement.  The pictures above show our initial maquettes using old tobacco tins, wood and wire.  The final piece uses my trademark patinated copper and reclaimed hardwood. It’s now in the shop at Falmouth Art Gallery.

In the second part of the workshop, I was keen to trial a mechanism that could make two things happen at the same time.  Doesn’t sound like too much of a demand but, blimey, its kept me scratching my head!  I’m still working on a piece which has a boat bobbing on a moving sea that also features a swimming fish.  I’ll save the process back for my next blog post – once I’ve made absolutely sure the mechanism runs smoothly.

Fi renewed my appreciation for the art of automata making. I learned many valuable skills and techniques that I can use to expand my range of automata. I left the studio feeling inspired and motivated to continue exploring the world of mechanisms.

If you have a love for mechanical devices and the patience to create something truly special you may like to know that Fi has a range of teaching options on her website.  Click here for more info.  I highly recommend taking part.

If you prefer to look and maybe even own your own automata then don’t forget to keep an eye on what’s available in my website shop.

Copper is such a great metal. When its annealed (heated very hot then cooled) it becomes so soft that it reminds me of McCowan’s Highland Toffee. Mind you, that could say more about the toffee than the copper! Anyway, the gist is that copper is happy to be bent and twisted into shape so its a great base for making miniature trees. Happily, the colour of copper is perfect too. When its heated it goes from a dull pinkish colour to all sorts of rich reds and browns. A bit of texture, courtesy of my trusty hammer, gives the appearance of bark. The most important element is having an eye for the shape of the tree and translating that into the metal. I use paper templates to start things off but I find that cutting freely into the metal gives a more natural result.

The following film gives an insight into the stage where I add tiny leaves to the bare copper branches.

This film shows the final bits of soldering to add leaves to the branches.

Really, a sheet of copper is not that different to a piece of paper but obviously much harder and stronger. Pretty much anything you can draw on paper can also be draw on copper. The advantage of copper over paper is that copper holds its shape, its happy to accept texture and to have further pieces soldered to it. Don’t need to point out that the disadvantage is that its hard to cut and sharp - my poor fingers will testify to that! But it has an expression of material that is just so enjoyable.

I hope the following photos will give you some insight into the process of going from paper idea to finished metalwork. This piece sold really fast!

Paper templates

Tin snips to cut the copper

A tree! Cut and shaped

Soldered to a copper base and with part of the mechanism in place

Its coming together with patination on the grassy base and gold leaf on the leavesall

The completed automaton on a base of raw oak.

Barn Owl Copse in situ at Falmouth Poly during a lockdown exhibition back in 2021.

Roundwood Fort at Trelissick

You may be surprised to know that despite the challenges of the season I find winter a deeply inspiring time. I especially enjoy seeing the trees in all their naked glory!

To my mind, the beauty of winter trees is one of the blessings of this cold and weary season. When the leaves fall the landscape through the trees is revealed, allowing the low winter light to filter through. I love to see bare branches which seem to allow the character of the trees to shine forth, suggesting limbs and a sentient life inside.

I spent yesterday morning surrounded by the beautiful trees of Roundwood Quay. This is a special place in Cornwall where several creeks meet making it a favourite spot for water babies as well as tree huggers. My interest in the area is further enhanced by Roundwood Fort. The panorama of trees above is a 360 degree shot of trees in the middle of this ancient Iron Age fort. The built up earth walls of the fort are still clear to see. Its impossible to walk through this area without imagining what it might have been like to have lived here during the Iron Age. Even though those ancient people didn’t have the advantages of modern life they had the most beautiful sylvan setting in which to live. I imagine it was a busy and thriving settlement. Did those ancient people love the trees too?

Trelissick tree

Tree climbers!

Roundwood trees

Mylor Oak

sunny birches

Scottish winter trees

Snowy conifers

As a child I played for hours in a huge beech tree in the woods near my family home. One of my earliest memories was of climbing up into this tree with great excitement, then getting stuck. I bawled my eyes out until my dad came and rescued me! On a recent trip back to the Old Country I took a walk down memory lane to see the old tree. To my great delight a fellow tree lover had built the most amazing tree house high up in the canopy. Turns out it was built in 2020 by my mum’s neighbours as a lockdown project. What a fabulous thing to do when there’s no school! I’m so pleased that the same tree I played in with my friends is providing fun and joy to a new generation.

Lockdown Treehouse

No surprise then that trees often feature in my work. Being amongst trees or making them is always a pleasure. I make fully abundant summer style trees and more delicately leaved winter versions. Copper lends itself so well to the aesthetics of trees, its natural colours echoing the warm tones of tree bark. The patinated Verdigris I use captures the verdant foliage particularly well too. A marriage made in heaven!

Click on the images above for ordering details.

Next time I’ll share photos and film of the making process…

Bespoke pieces are a crucial part of my work. More generally a bespoke commission is a collaboration between customer and maker which prompts sharing of thoughts and dreams. This is often truly personal with all sorts of touching family details. I regularly make special pieces for weddings, anniversaries or christenings - all the important moments in life, while sometimes I have the sad task of commemorating a much loved pet. It transforms the making process into a more involved exchange of ideas which brings huge responsibility with it. Its an honour to be included in people’s lives in this way and to help bring such personal stories to life.

A customer recently approached me to discuss a unique gift for her son. She wanted an automata that would encapsulate him and his family while also showing their combined interests and their pets. She especially wanted a nod to their home in America. It was quite a challenge to bring all these elements together in copper. I managed to record some of the different stages which I hope will help bring the bespoke process alive.

The images below show an initial sketch stage and the final piece. To see the carousel above the family group in action just click this link.

Initial sketch of automaton

The Finished Piece

The next gallery of pictures show the raw copper stages of the making process. I’ve added the final hand drawn sketch to show the translation from paper to metal. I use a combination of fine marker pens and paper cut outs to transcribe the sketch from paper to copper then cut the design using metal shears and a fret saw. Once the pieces are cut they need to be filed to get rid of rough edges. Next, eyes are drilled to suggest a more human appearance. I can spend quite a bit of time sawing and filing away at noses as the wrong angle can change the look of the face completely - the differences can be very subtle (I’m glad I don’t do rhinoplasty!). After everything is cut and smoothed off I add linear details either by hammering or taking the copper sheet through a rolling mill. More on these processes in a future blog post…

The biggest task is soldering all the different aspects of the design together. That too is for a future blog post. For now, I hope you get a picture of how the design aesthetics of the automata come together and how paper notions transform into metal.

To see a break down of the processes involved in commissioning a bespoke piece just click here.

Thought it was about time I shared some info about my regular gallery the Guild of Ten in Truro. I've been a member of the Guild since 2016 (can’t believe its been 6 years already!). Jeweller Jenny Yates invited me to join this cooperative gallery. She was on the look our for a new jeweller but got an automata maker into the bargain! All the makers in the gallery are based in Cornwall so you will meet a maker every time you are able to pop in.

The gallery has been in Truro, on Old Bridge Street, for over 40 years. It was initially set up by a group of 10 craftspeople who wanted to share rent and responsibility for their own gallery. Since the 70s it has been handed on from one group of craftspeople to the next. Currently our longest standing member, seamstress Christine Roxburgh, has been involved for 37 years, whilst our newest member, paper-crafter Pam Booth, joined in January of this year. To add yet more intrigue, textile artist Madeleine Jude was a founder craftsperson, she left for London in the 80s only to re-join in 2021!

The Gallery Frontage on Old Bridge Street

Interior of the gallery back in 2019

The deal is that we all chip in for the rent and take our turn in staffing the gallery. As with all good cooperatives all decisions are made by committee so we have great fun keeping on top of things! Each maker is allocated a space which we are free to set up as we wish (within reason). I inherited a lovely jewellery display case from a previous member and was able to adapt some shelves to display my freestanding metalwork and automata.

My little corner of the Guild - July 22

I’ve recently added wall hung work to my display. I have often played with lino cutting so it was a natural step to use this alongside metal motifs to make something new. The Guild is a place to try out new things. I know that if our customers are keen then I’m on to a winner and I might well take a new idea further.

Its great to have a regular gallery to be part of where I can meet people and chat about my work as well as that of the other members. It always makes a pleasant change from hammering away in the workshop! It has also given me a fabulous group of craftspeople to belong to. This has been so invaluable over the last couple of difficult years. There’s always someone to run things past if I’ve got myself in a muddle and its just lovely to share how other makers run their businesses and develop their work.

We have learned to move with the times and now have an online shop with some of our wares for those times you can’t make it to Truro.

New lino/metalwork wall hung work

Just a quick post today to remind you that its Craft Festival this weekend. You can find me in marquee C stand 38. I’ll be showing automata, metalwork and my new combination of lino print with metal details. If you can’t make it (not everyone is within easy reach of Bovey Tracey!) then watch this space and keep your eye on Instagram (@esthersmithartist) for future updates.

Patinated and enamelled copper and brass automata. The tiniest flowers are made from reclaimed tin that began life as sardine tin.

One of my new lino prints on print paper with a patinated copper hare and enamel heart.

Following my last blog post, which looked at recycled tin, today’s is all about reclaimed wood.

Wood is an essential part of my work. It provides a base for each piece adding texture, colour and warmth. As a nature lover its important to me that I don’t just reach for the most convenient piece of timber, I go to pains to never use virgin wood. Instead, I keep my eye out for alternative sources to ensure the wood is a by-product from someone else’s project. So I use wood that furniture makers and boat builders have discarded, I rescue old bits of broken furniture on their way to the tip and I scour beaches for driftwood. The latter is most satisfying and the subject of today’s blog.

The Moray Firth of Scotland is a haven for bird and marine life and this beach is a favourite beachcombing destination. Its a magnet for people, wrapped in layers, revelling in the detritus that’s been washed along the coast or down through the rivers rushing out of the Cairngorms. Its a beach at the other end of Britain from the Cornish coast but a place I return to regularly as its where I grew up. So far, I haven’t found a beach in Cornwall that’s as rich in treasure, but perhaps I’m not getting to the beaches early enough!

I’m not alone in my love of beach combing. The picture gallery above will give you a sense of what the locals get up to with all the flotsam and jetsam in this lovely place!

Schooner and Sperm Whale

Schooner and Sperm Whale

Day Dreaming

A beautiful gnarly bit of tree branch sets off my ‘Schooner and Sperm Whale’ automata perfectly, the twists in the wood suggesting the movement of the sea. This piece was inspired by the ship building that used to happen in this part of the world. For those that are interested, there’s a fascinating website all about the history of ship building on the Moray Firth. As a child I played with my brothers on the old and disused ship building site. Today its a source of imaginative inspiration!

‘Schooner and Sperm Whale‘ will be making its first public outing at this year’s Bovey Tracey craft festival. Not long now - it opens on Friday June 17th, keep an eye on my Instagram account for more details…

The 3rd picture is my piece ‘Daydreaming’ which was originally made for A Cabaret of Mechanical Movement, an exhibition at Falmouth Art Gallery. The big hunk of driftwood provided a good solid base for an automata that tells the story of my daydreams on a cold winter’s day. My partner was in the south pacific working on a boat building project on the islands of Tuvalu. His stories of island life were in marked contrast to my quiet life in a chilly Cornish workshop. Woven into this tale was the huge life event of my eldest daughter heading off on her own travels for the first time. Not the south pacific, but interrailing round Europe. Still, the sense of adventure and opportunity all came together to make ‘Daydreaming’.

Moray Firth View

The workshop has been full of tiny, sharp bits of tin lately. Reason being that I’ve been busy recycling tin to make flowers. I’ve become a bit of a magpie for brightly coloured tins, chiefly biscuit and sardine but I also found a fabulous green olive oil tin which has been put to good use. Its great to be able to repurpose metal but it does mean endless sharp edges so endless filing to get rid of them. The final artwork needs to be smooth so it doesn’t cause unfortunate accidents! It also needs to be smooth so I can work it into the shapes I need without constantly nicking and scratching myself. Some skin damage is almost inevitable so I have a box of plasters on hand. I also spend a good deal of time with the washing up bowl getting the tins nice and clean - especially the sardine tins!

What a fiddly job this is! But I really love it when those scraps of tin come together and make something completely new. I used the old olive oil tin to make the tulip leaves and the biscuit tin to make the petals. The original shapes of the paper petal templates look something like propellers but when they’re put together and formed into a 3D flower they lose that machined-aeronautical look altogether. The tulip heads have a centre hole drilled so I can attach a brass stem which is knotted to keep everything in place.

Tiptoe Through the Tulips

I hope this video gives you a good idea of the final automata. My photo history has completely missed out making the base of the piece and fiddling around with the cams. That’s for another day. But I did want to share where my love of tulips came from. The book in the background is Oscar Fabres’ Kwik and Kwak. My granny had this book, it was given as a Christmas present to my mum and aunty in 1945. It was the heirloom I wanted most from my granny’s house. Kwik and Kwak is a charming picture book which tells the tale of two little Dutch ducks who live a peaceful life cycling through the tulip fields of Holland (ducks on bicycles?). I loved those pictures of tulip fields, pretty Dutch houses and fishing boats. Still do. Inevitably, for the time the book was written, the story takes a darker turn but all ends well in the end and I hang on to the early depictions of peace and tulips in rural Holland. They’ll always be my favourite flowers!