A Trip down memory lane.

The process of moving involves so much more that clearing cupboards and sorting cups and saucers. It is a time for reflection. Frequently one is brought face to face with people and events from the past. Another box  brings all manner of memories to the surface.

You discover that you have a box belonging to your Mother filled with her treasures – the lace handkerchief from her wedding day, a birthday card you had made, a photograph of yourself in a mermaid costume. The costume was a work of art – made of sea-green satin with a carefully stitched tail and cellophane scales. Photographs of our home when I was a child were also tucked away in a small album. You realise that these were kept with love.

You come across a photograph of a bride bending to greet a little boy – it’s your mother and perhaps an older cousin – it’s an evocative image and you realise with surprise that you had forgotten how beautiful she was.

It’s impossible to simply throw these away, but it can’t all go with me. Modern technology comes to the rescue, allowing me to scan the images and take them with me in digital format. Now I think of ways the images could find their way into future drawings.

Then, in the last packet of documents and photographs, I find a leather document case belonging to my father. Inside are letters of reference written to my paternal grandfather from companies for whom he had worked – in the most beautiful copperplate handwriting – and one of the few photographs of him, striding down the road in Bournemouth – a stern figure, much as I remember him.

A few days ago, a friend who lives out of town phoned me to say she had found letter from me. She had been trying to clear out a drawer. It was jammed and when the drawer eventually opened there was the letter.

It was something we rarely see  today, a proper letter - on paper - written with a fountain pen, thanking her for her support and friendship after I had spent some time on her farm. I hadn’t dated the letter but I knew exactly when it had been written as I had some entries in an old art journal describing the time on the farm. The journal had drawings that echo current ideas, similar themes and ideas, and the ongoing struggle to be creative.  

Then I found something quite different. A slip of paper was amongst the usual debris that gathers in a bedside table drawer. It was a diary page from 2003; scrawled on it was the title and author of a book that I’d been trying to remember for years. It’s the most amazing story of Christina Dodwell’s journey across China, A Traveller in China .

Now I will be able to read the book again, knowing what to look for. You realize that the important things find you when you stop looking.

The Countdown begins...

The next few weeks will be very busy indeed. I will be packing up my life and house here in South Africa in preparation for the move to Australia at the beginning of December. This move has been in the planning stages since May 2008 and eventually last week I decided to be pro-active and set a date to move.

Deciding to go now in spite of not having sold my house is a tremendous release . I am no longer going to be baby-sitting bricks and mortar. I am now no longer going to sit around waiting but instead moving ahead with my plan.

Leaving the country of one's birth is life-changing. Leaving part of one's family behind is indescribably difficult. Leaving the known for the unknown, the familiar for the unfamiliar, leaving for a place where one has no history is possibly the most difficult thing I have had to do. It is perhaps even harder for those that are left behind.

However, this is also one of the most exciting times of my life. The knowledge that I am starting a different kind of life, going to do the work I love gives me an optimism that life will be good.

Now if I just could find a "packing-up house fairy" then I could give her a list of things to do ( it would be a very long list) and I could go somewhere quiet to do a drawing or two.

This Crinum Lily appeared in my garden over the weekend - the first bloom ever,
Do you think it is a "Gooodbye" present?

Drawing - a thin black line

Why do we assume that we need a special talent for drawing? Often people profess to have no talent for drawing, saying – “I can’t even draw a straight line”.

When shown that they can draw – they declare that they must have a hidden talent.

We don’t make that assumption about other talents like reading. What if only those with a special talent could learn to read? The teachers would supply reading materials; not guide or instruct the class for fear of hampering creativity in reading. Then the teacher would sit back and wait to see what would happen.

The kid says, “How do I read this?” The teacher replies: “Just be free, use your imagination - reading should be fun.” Some of the class would be able to read but the rest would say: “I can’t read – I have no talent”.

We apply this strange reasoning to teaching art. We are too afraid to instruct for fear of hampering or diminishing the child’s creative spirit.

Drawing is in reality a way of learning how to see. We can learn to hone our powers of observation with the result that almost anyone can learn to draw.

In a previous post, when I was considering all the different types of media I have used over the years, I left out the two simple tools for any artist that have always been used – a lead pencil and an ink pen. I love buying new pens and pencils – I am happiest in an art supply store or even a basic stationery store. I have become addicted to finding new pens that will help me draw better.



Pier at Blankenberg

Whenever I traveled anywhere, first into the suitcase would be a sketchbook, pencils, pens and a small watercolour box and a brush or two (although I never seemed to get around to adding much colour.) 

Departing ferry, Breskens



These sketchbooks became a visual diary, capturing people and places.

Paging through them takes me back to the experience of different countries more vividly than any photograph album.



Ferry Harbour, Breskens



Pen and ink drawing can provide drama, strong contrast and fine detail. The sketch below was done in the Museum Skone Kunst, Antwerp. I came across an artist painting a copy of Fouquet's Maria and Jesus surrounded by Angels, and couldn't resist doing a sketch of her.



Sketching the copyist in Antwerp, Belgium



Recently, I have experimented with drawing on alternative surfaces such as ink on canvas or on a wooden panel, adding a new dimension to drawing.

Seeds and Leaves 382mm x 760mm  Ink on canvas

It takes courage to draw in ink – there are no second chances – no way to erase the errors. Instead, one has to really look at the subject, focus on where you want the line to go, and execute it fearlessly with a clean fluid line



Protea Cyranoides 200mm x 200mm Ink on Hahnemule paper

©2010 Carol Lee Beckx

©2010 Carol Lee Beckx

I have always enjoyed drawing, it almost becomes a meditation as you hatch the lines to create tone, or trace a fine thread of ink across the paper to show a delicate outline.

David Lloyd George said: “Anything can be achieved in small deliberate steps. But there are times you need the courage to take a great leap; you can’t cross a chasm in two small jumps”