Mapping Ditchling.

Ditchling is a pretty village, warm with half-timbered character, hugged by the Sussex Downs.  It has a long connection with the Arts and Crafts movement and was the home to printmaker Eric Gill in the early 20th century. I was very honoured to be asked to run a hand drawn mapping workshop at the award winning Ditchling Museum of  Art + Craft last weekend.

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As part of my workshop, I take my students outside to walk the territory of the location they are mapping (as far as is possible and weather permitting). How else can you understand where you are, unless you experience it personally? So, as preparation, I decided to walk the territory myself and hand draw my own map of Ditchling.

My initial sketches were rough. It’s hard to map on foot, especially in the rain. But what’s important is that the mapmaker marks the features he finds important, either by sketch, note or photograph. It doesn’t need to be perfect.

Back at the studio I hit more formal references, comparing my rough sketches with other paper and digital maps of Ditchling, including both OS and Google Satellite maps.  It’s always interesting to see where my maps differ from the others, and indeed, how they differ between themselves. It just goes to show that there is no such thing as the Truth.

Using all of the references, including my own, the map was drawn up using a gridding technique. It’s always at this stage that I, as the mapmaker, decide what features should appear in the map. The map is a personal understanding of a place, after all.

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For me, it was the black and white cottages and the jolly post office at the crossroads, the flinty church dating back to Saxon times with its rows of solemn trees and dark ancient yews. It was the Anne of Cleves House, slightly dishevelled; a ghost peering forlornly through the diamond paned windows. (She likes to keep doors open apparently.) It was the Bull Inn squatting confidently next to the car park and the rival White Horse, blustering it out manfully up the road. It was the Old Meeting House sitting amongst the haphazard gravestones of Quakers waiting for redemption, silent from centuries of peaceful prayer. And it was the Georgian brick house on the high street, once belonging to Eric Gill.

Who knew what sad and terrible things happened there…

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The Museum of Art + Craft was created to house some of Gill’s work and we were based in the studio there.  Although there was certainly no sinister atmosphere at all in either museum or village, his work and name seemed to be everywhere and I felt his presence permeated the place.  I still appreciate the simple beauty of his lettering and can’t quite connect the clean honesty of his work with his crimes. I wanted to echo something of his style in my map, nevertheless, and chose to do it by making the road system dark and picking out the lettering in white, as I had seen in some of his prints. But there, the similarity ends.

Cut to the workshop and each student had a different experience of Ditchling as we walked it’s green dampness. One took notes of bus stops and telephone boxes, of the shapes of fences and boundary lines, whilst another marked the signs of spring in the clumps of snowdrops and wild daffodils. Each eventually made a map of the Ditchling they alone had understood, felt and seen. Each map was stamped with their own personality. Very far from the industrialised digital maps that the Arts and Craft Movement would have railed against if it had existed today.

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And so now, there exists 7 new maps of Ditchling, particular to an individual mapmaker and to a particular time. Although Eric Gill would have approved of a process founded on working by hand, I hope it was not his ghost who looked over us. I hope it was that other ghost, in the Anne of Cleves House,  perhaps slightly heartened that we had unlocked doors to get outside and walk the village. And heartened that we were firmly keeping the door open, not shut, on the craft of hand drawn mapmaking.

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Book now for a place on my Hand Drawn Mapping workshop.

A very quick post to let you know that Wednesday is the last day you can book a place on my hand drawn mapping workshop at Ditchling Museum of Art + Craft on 10th March 2018. The workshop runs from 10.30 to 4 pm and includes refreshments and lunch. All materials will be provided.

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Hand drawn maps are a beautiful alchemy of form, function and artistry which express a view of a particular place at a particular time by a particular person. At the workshop you’ll learn :

– how to research your territory with notes and sketches
– simple gridding up techniques
– how to use negative space effectively with pattern, illustration or stories
– how to create decorative compass roses and cartouches
– how to design personalised feature icons and keys
– easy to draw but simply elegant hand lettering

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Date: 10th March
Time: 10.30-4 pm
Address: Ditchling Museum of Art + Craft, Lodge Hill Lane, Ditchling, E Sussex, BN6 8SP
Telephone: 01273 844744
Email: enquiries@ditchlingmuseumartcraft.org.uk
Cost; £70.00 plus £2.58 booking fee. £70.00 if booking by phone.

Tickets: here.

 

 

 

A map to find your way through Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s day comes but once a year, and love it or loathe it, you cannot avoid the commercial juggernaut that is the Valentine’s card, in the UK and US at least. Valentine’s cards have really only been around for a few hundred years but the sentiment of describing romantic love visually has been around for much longer… And sometimes through the (usually tongue in cheek) format of the map.

Our urge to understand the world through maps has been subverted to the concept of mapping emotional territory, skipping away from physical geography and heading, map in hand to the undulating but sometimes terrifying Lands of Love.

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This first map of ‘the Open Country of a Woman’s Heart’ was created in the USA some time in the 19th century by a ‘lady’. I have a suspicion though, that this was by a man with no high opinion of women. Clues lie in the geography of a place, ‘exhibiting … the dangers to travellers therein’.  Journeys need to be navigated through the frightening regions of Fickleness, Coquetry and Sentimentality. Oh – and there’s a steamboat that will take you from the Sea of Wealth to the Land of Selfishness.

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The anonymous artist who created the next Map of Matrimony seems to have a more balanced view of relationships. Created in 1825, it looks like a genuine cartographical map at first sight but come closer, and you’ll see a land detailed with regions called The Vale of Gladness, the Region of Rejoicing and the Land of Promise. Don’t get too comfortable on your journey though, because you might also meet the Quicksands of Censure, the Coast of Desperation and the Mountains of Delay, inhabited by lawyers, apparently.

There are several other beautiful examples of these kind of maps and they were all inspiration for my own map of a heart. Mine is pure Romance with a heady dose of idealism. There is no cold cynicism here, despite an image based on a scientific diagram rather than the traditional icon. Yes, dear readers, that’s really what a map of my heart looks like. Even if I get grumpy when I’m hungry, I sure need a lot of sleep and I’ve got a thing about overhead lighting, the interior geography of my heart is still gentle. Perhaps a swim in the River of Realism might be refreshing as inhabiting those lands is never that easy.

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So to all of the lovers out there, who cheerfully wander the ‘Meadows of Can’t Wait for the Next Time to Hold You’, I wish you safe travels.

But although my map may be idealistic, it was at least made with kindness so I send it as a Valentine’s card to those whose journey is harder. To those unrequited lovers who get caught in the ‘Rapids of Pining for the Unavailable’, to those with loves who are lost across metaphorical mountains, to those who have lost all hope and those who are simply working out if it’s OK to journey on their own. I wish you a very happy Valentine’s and an easy route to navigate whichever Land of Love you find yourself in.

Mapping the River Don.

One of the many projects that have come to me after Hand Drawn Maps hit the shops was a commission by The River Don Millowners’ Association. They needed a map of the River Don for a small publication about the history of the association and its philanthropic works. History and nature. Right up my street. Of course I said yes.

The River Don Millowners’ Association is a charitable organisation that was originally set up in the 19th century to protect the interests of local millowners. Although it closed in the mid ‘60s, its funds still existed. They were invested and the proceeds are now used for the benefit of the community, often for projects that celebrate industrial heritage.

So it was at the end of last year that I found myself poring over multiple OS maps of the River Don, stained by red brick industrial Sheffield, held at bay by the wilderness of the Peaks. Judging by the maps, it looked to be a beautiful place. Steep contours crossed the paper, occasionally interrupted by symbols for small woods and slashed by icy blue streams. Tiny villages clung to the windswept hillsides, their names hinting at the stories of the people who came before.

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I started by working out how my own map would fit on the page dimensions I’d been given, using the OS and Google satellite maps as a guide. Scale was an important issue. I used layout paper to roughly sketch the journey of the river, checking the features the client wanted were all included. There was a gutter going down the middle so I had to be careful that vital parts of the map didn’t disappear down the centrefold. A little creative mapping was called for because of this – some of the river tributaries became longer than they are in reality and allowed for the lettering to be read easily.

Eventually after a fair number of mis-tries, I had a workable map model and the drawing was transferred to my usual heavyweight watercolour paper.

Next came some research into the main features mentioned in the book; the mills and wheels, the bridges and smoking chimneys. I chose to show these in tiny oval vignettes – this format would pick them out against the background colour and allow for a variety of scales and viewpoints to look consistent. I loved reading about the history of the mills and looking at old photographs of both rural and industrial heritage.

More secondary features like the houses of Sheffield and the many trees were kept simple. I wanted there to be a hint of mid Victorian folk art about them so shapes are clear and perspective is flat.

One of the joys of hand drawn maps is being creative about the map ‘furniture’- the compass, the neatlines and the cartouche. I researched 19th century graphic design for some inspiration. Old metal signs found on industrial bridges gave me an idea for the shape of and lettering on the cartouche. Old printed pamphlets gave me ideas about the neatline corner decoration. These details were pared down from the usual Victorian decorative extravagance to match the simple feel of the rest of the map.

Once drawn out, the map was finally painted mainly using gouache. I like the blockiness that gouache gives me and hopefully it adds something to the flat, unnuanced naïve feel. Colours were chosen to reflect the greens, greys and blues of the Peaks combined with the reds, ochres and dusty tans of the settlements. The creamy paint was given free rein over the wide moors and details of windows, leaves and lettering were painted with a fine brush and a magnifying glass.

This was a very satisfying project to be involved in and gave me full-on permission to indulge my inner geek. I enjoyed learning something new about industrial history in Yorkshire and also how an association, built on the drive for commercial success and often battling with local communities over resources, slowly developed into a philanthropic organisation with the community at its heart. ‘Power and Philanthropy,  the story of the River Don Millowners’ Association’ by Anthony Swift is a fascinating read and is available to buy from Kelham Island Museum in Sheffield.

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A map of the stars – an early Christmas present.

Winter is upon us.  There’s frost in the morning, the light is a soft blue in the daytime. In the evening, the moon shines hard and white.  If you are lucky (and live somewhere in the wilds), on a clear night you can see the stars.  One of the highlights of my year so far was to see the Milky Way. I was lying on a sunlounger at midnight in the middle of the Dorset countryside looking up at the constellations and trying to remember their names. It really got me thinking about a map of the stars.

Man has documented the stars since the stone age but the age of the enlightenment saw a boom in astronomy maps.  I love how the traditional constellation forms were described through illustration  – no cold Scientific digital maps here.

 

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This historical astronomical map comes from the Wellcome Library.


My most recent map honours the historic tradition of charting the constellations and how they all fit together in the skies using not only notes as usual but images as well.

A Map of the Winter Constellations in the Northern Hemisphere (or Winter Star Map for short) is a circular map on midnight blue mount board.  It’s drawn in white ink and the original has been handfinished with genuine silver leaf to pick out the stars themselves (NB : the prints available are simple blue and white).  The notes tell some of the legends behind the constellations which vary from culture to culture.  What we see as the Great Bear can be understood as a wagon, a skunk, a canoe, a camel, a shark and even a coffin by other peoples for example.  Other notations include folk beliefs associated with the constellations and interesting facts about the history of astronomy and contemporary astronomical thinking.  Belief and the idea of the ‘fact’ is constantly changing as time gallops forward.

Giclee prints can be bought exclusively from ONCA Gallery in Brighton in person or online for £65.00.  They’re printed in archival ink on heavyweight paper and measure 40x40cms unframed, meaning they can fit into a standard off the shelf frame easily.

I’m pretty sure they’d make a great wintery Christmas present for someone forever wondering about the stars and the legends behind them.

A short post about a film poster

It’s way too early for Christmas (is it??!!) but this is a short post about a poster I did for a little indie film, ‘Home for Christmas’ a few years ago that has now been bought up by Amazon Prime and trending as I speak…

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The film – a Christmas romcom-  was made by Jump Start films based in Brighton on a very tight budget.  Much of the work was volunteered and it was made often using local actors in Brighton itself – my flat even starred as a location at a couple of points.

Any money was crowd funded through donations, events and raffles:

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Fundraising event poster

There was a premiere at the famous historic Brighton cinema – The Duke of Yorks – one of the oldest working cinemas in the UK.  The cinema plays an important part in the storyline and I happened to have a few shifts tearing tickets there at the time alongside the Director, DoP, and Sound.  It was fun to be involved in the making of a feature film and see behind the curtain of what it takes to pull something like this off.

The illustration for the poster was hand drawn in black ink and shows some characters from the film and elements from the cinema, almost a character in itself. Colour was added digitally at a later date.

It’s taken a few years for this little film to get to this point and I’ll look forward to seeing where it goes next.

TEDx, a Map of Brighton and more about Babies and Colour Science.

When I’m looking for some intellectual stimulation or inspiration, I often listen to TED Talks online, delving into subjects like Creativity or Motivation for example. TED was originally set up as a design and technology conference in 1984 but has now grown into an online media giant, freely flowing with talks on science, culture and any academic subject you can think of under the banner of ‘Ideas worth Spreading’. So it was with great honour to find one of my maps has made it to a TEDx talk.  TEDx helps independent organizers to create a TED-like event in their own community in order to ‘spread the ideas’ too. Smaller in scale but in an age of sharing, size doesn’t matter so much anymore.

This particular TEDx talk was held at the ISM University of Management and Economics in Vilnius, Lithuania this October.  The theme was “Question The Expected” and asked the 500 strong audience to be curious about their choices, beliefs and perceptions of the world.

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You may remember my involvement in September with the Baby Lab at the University of Sussex. In connection with that, the talk was given by Doctoral Researcher, Alice Skelton, who works there. Her research is particularly about colour perception in babies and how humans develop the use of language to talk about colour.
One of the largest projects Alice has taken part in is the Categories project, which looks at how infants below 6 months categorise colour. And by categories, I mean grouping colours into ‘red’, ‘blue’, ‘green’, ‘yellow’, ‘brown’ or ‘pink’ etc. There is a huge difference between a rich dark wine red and a bright perky pillar box red but in our culture we still group them together or categorise them, as ‘red’. In the study, babies were tested to see if they could tell the difference between colours without having the words for them, if they were categorising them and how they did it. The results will ultimately tell us how we talk about colour as adults.

It turns out that pre-language babies in the study could naturally distinguish 5 different colour categories. The suggestion is that distinguishing any further subtleties or disregarding some subtleties must come after language is learnt. Different languages divide up the spectrum differently- so some languages only have 5 main categories they group colours in but others use 6 or 7 or 8… English has 11 and Greek and Russian for example both have 12 categories.  The environment you are born into (and therefore what your community labels as important) teaches you names for colours, in which groups they are categorised and the subtleties in colours you are most able to distinguish.

The ability to see in colour is a skill that humans enjoy very much. It’s what allows us to appreciate great art.  But it’s a practical tool in our box too. We can find things at a distance more easily;  distinguish between objects (are you about to eat a carrot or a parsnip?); or highlight important features in a simple way.  And this is where my map popped up as an example on the TEDx presentation screen…

This map of Brighton (from Hand Drawn Maps) is designed as a sensory map. Instead of focussing on physical features in the town, I have mapped the smells you might encounter using simple coloured icons. Brown for the beer smell wafting heavily outside the many bars, pale yellow-green for the lemongrass smell lingering outside the Thai Restaurants and a dirty lilac for the smell hovering over the rubbish bins in the less brightly lit corners. The intensity of the smell is shown by the intensity of the colour. Sometimes the smells combine, shown by the colours lapping over each other.

Without being able to distinguish the subtleties of the colours I’ve used and categorise them, (as a red or a brown, for example), the map would be much harder to understand. Being able to distinguish those subtleties relies on your language and culture. So although it’s a fairly decorative art-map, leaning more on illustrative aesthetics than pinpoint accurate geography, you can only read it easily if you have the right words and your culture has taught you how to.

And that, my friends, is not art but science.

Taro, the Fisherman – illustrating for the education market.

This post is a short one about a short, small project that gave me a lot of pleasure to do. What was surprising was that it was a book for the education market, ie: part of a graded reading scheme, working for which I often find fairly challenging.

I was approached by Scholastic at the beginning of August to see if I was free to create artwork for a reading book called ‘The Tale of the Fisherman’.  It’s a well known traditional Japanese folk tale about a fisherman called Taro Urashima who saves a sea turtle.

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The turtle transforms into the Princess of the Sea …

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… and takes Taro to her sea palace under the waters in a giant bubble.

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Taro is given many wishes; he wishes for gold of course but eventually chooses his home and family over an ocean of riches.

It’s a beautiful story and for the most part, I was given free rein over the illustrations. The main instruction was to ‘make them look Japanese’… I found this approach very refreshing as it allowed me to work in a more personal and natural way – using composition, character and technique as I would usually. Very often for educational projects, I am given a super strict brief detailed down to what should be where in each picture. This is understandable as the main role of the illustration is to help children read and understand the words on the page. Creating drama, beauty or narrative pace isn’t a priority.

Sometimes the layout has already been drawn out for me page by page by the designer and effectively, I am just being asked to replicate these drawings. It’s a challenge in such cases to find a way to work in my own style, where composition and look are very personal. What excites me in illustration, is the play between flat and decorative areas, stylised pages and interesting viewpoints – not creating a conventional photographic scene. When sketches have been provided at the start of a project,  I have to somehow adapt to another person’s visual imagination, even if I know the outcome will look nothing like my usual work. And in this situation, it’s good to understand that the publisher sees the pictures as servants to the words with the ultimate outcome of teaching a child to read.

‘The Tale of the Fisherman’ proved to be very different with text and pictures given equal weight. Perhaps the suggested hint of a ‘Japanese style’ was educational in itself. After quite a few happy weeks swimming in the warm seas of Japanese woodcut inspiration, I hope I created a book that not only teaches using both word and image but is beautiful too.

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British Science Festival – Babies and Art.

I was recently asked by the University of Sussex to take part in some research by the Sussex Baby Lab there.  The Baby Lab does research in what babies can see.  This project, as part of the British Science Festival  (5th-9th September 2017 in Brighton) involved tracking babies’ eye movements while they looked at a 13 different artworks from illustration to fine art – some of which were mine.  For each baby, the average amount of time looking at the image and the average number of eye fixations were measured.  As they are unable to articulate their preferences, heat tracks were made of their eye movements and from this, it was possible to see which work was most attractive or stimulating to them.

I was worried that none of the work I presented had been made specifically for babies. I was told it didn’t matter.  It was just important that each piece could be used to test the differences between adult eyes and those of babies. I chose an illustration from a book for much older readers and two fine art works, not made with children in mind at all.

In general, it’s known that babies see the world slightly differently to adults.  Babies’ colour vision isn’t developed in the first year.  Red and green differences can be picked up in the first 2 months, blue and yellow after 4 months.  They need saturated intense colour to discriminate between colours – the more distinct and contrasted, the better.  Apparently babies do prefer some colours over others, for example blues, reds and purples rather than dark yellows, greens and browns.

‘Imposter’. Painting in varnished acrylic mounted on hardboard. Lots of hard clean edges and red paint.

Babies between 1-4 months are able to see the difference between some shapes (eg: a cross and a circle) and after 5 months have been shown to prefer curved shapes to angular ones and straight lines.  Babies over 12 months prefer to look at vertically symmetrical patterns over patterns with horizontal symmetry or asymmetrical patterns.  Babies of all ages also love looking at faces or things that look like faces.

‘Aerialist’ – a painting in acrylic on card. A face, but will it be recognised as one side on….?

They aren’t able to see fine details and lots of small patterns blur into a single mass.  In the first few months of life, controlling eye movements is tough and they can get ‘stuck’ fixating on one thing, although this improves with time and practice.  I expected that my last illustration would fall into this category and not be particularly successful in holding the babies’ attention.

However, it actually did pretty well.  The heatmap below shows how babies were fascinated with the eyes in the peacock’s tail (8.9 fixations on average). The average looking time was 4.14 seconds from a maximum of 5 seconds (4th out of the 13 works tested in this area).

Heat map of the peacock illustration.

One of the most successful images was this digital artwork from my good friends at Cornish collective, Granite and Glitter. This frog print was top in achieving babies’ eye fixations –  approximately 11 times per baby.  It’s a complex image with multiple colours and the heat map below shows how the babies look at the bold patterns on the frog’s back and then move to the right as they look at the repeat patterns.

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The artwork that was used in the research will become an exhibition , ‘Seeing the World through a Baby’s Eyes’ at the Jubilee Library in Brighton from 4th-17th September 2017 to showcase the features that babies like to look at.  Research scientists will be on hand on the 7th September to explain the results and techniques used to visitors.

It should be a really fascinating show; I’ve learnt so much already from being involved and I’d like to head over to check out the other artwork and talk to some scientists. If I ever illustrate a book for babies, hopefully I’ll be able to use some of the research in how I design each picture…

Jubilee Library
Jubilee Street,  Brighton BN1 1GE
01273 290800

4th-17th September