Marks

In summer, a tan will embolden
marks of a faded despair.

Time tricked me once, and
marks of one time is on me, now
– forever they will likely stay,

hinting stories to strangers without permission,
troubling the traces of my lover’s fingertips.

Like a tragic tattoo of confession
I bear the crossed lines
of my troubled youths depression.

If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you might remember I attended a poetry course with Rommi Smith last year. I published this poem (link here) from one of the sessions.

Today I wanted to share with you this personal poem that came out of a short exercise inspired by ‘marks’. It came inspired by a beautiful poem by James Caruth called Marking the Lambs. I wanted to play with the idea of certain periods of time leaving marks on us, and physical ones that outlast the feelings of the time they came from.

Read aloud if you can, as always. Many blessings.

Overdue for an update

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Urban Leeds. Today’s offering. Gouache and pen

If you only read my WordPress, then you’ve been missing out recently. I’ve become a Twit @SukyWhettam, and an insta… person; Sukytyleri. I’ve also now got a facebook page! Suky Tyleri Art.

I vary where I post things because what I produce is so varied, so hit me up on those platforms, too. I would love to connect with you!

I’ve got a few things in the works at the moment. I’m about to mount and frame a commission, previews of which available on my facebook page and instagram. It’s a beautiful, twisty seaweed piece with lots of vibrant layered glazes.

Oh, go on then. Just a little bit.

seaweed

It’s too large to get a scan at home, so I’ll have to get a proper one done.

Also, I’m considering making a few christmas card designs, which I need to decide on quickly if I want to get anywhere with it! Need a bit of brave for it, too. Let me know if you’d be interested in christmas cards or generic greetings cards in the future.

I’m in the middle of writing a post about art journaling, which is a big thing for me personally. Looking forward to publishing that on here. I also have to decide whether to share pages of my own journal to illustrate my points! #vulnerabilityontheinternet

Speaking of vulnerability, I’m writing poetry again! Medication for my depression seemed to put a cork in my writing brain but now I’m off them (and have been for a couple of months) it seems it’s coming back. I’m so relieved. I will post poetry on here soon.

So that’s my bitty update. Check out where I post pretty much daily, here, here, and here, I want to connect with more makers.

And I’ll see you soon, with more meaty stuff!

On a Train, Chased by a Storm

I scribbled down the composition of this piece while travelling from Huddersfield to Leeds one evening that the north of England saw some spectacular stormy weather. I have come back to it hoping to recreate the dramatic feeling of movement and height.

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It was nice to work whilst knowing I was aiming for the Tilda style, but I’ve got into the place where you’ve been staring at your work too long and no longer know what you think of it!

I do plan to try more like this, and refine how I work skies.

On a personal note, as this blog is about wellbeing and creativity; we have just moved into a larger flat where I have more light and room to spread out. I’ve been sewing a lot, sorting through old notes and sketching/painting more. The most important thing to me though is still missing due to medication: my writing. I feel like I’m getting closer, and I’ll post here as soon as I’m in my flow again. Having a comfortable living space is helping. I know that I can get too precious about my poetry and what I share, so I’ll try to refrain because it can inhibit my creativity. Any tips about getting back into a writing routine would be welcome!

First Night Home Again (Poem)

My husband and I got back from his parent’s house yesterday afternoon, after staying there over christmas and new year. As soon as we came into the city I began feeling more relaxed and more ‘me’ again. Christmas was so lovely, with all my new family, but I found it very taxing and I didn’t feel myself much of the time. Especially because I found it hard to write, and I couldn’t paint.

Back by ourselves, I’m more at ease. But I really struggled to sleep. Here is a poem I wrote at about 3.30am:

Sleep-deep breathing in the nape of my neck.
At least one of us can rest while I battle with this solitaire.
Blue light glares silently at my face as I tap.
The apartment dimly lit
whisperlessly watching my eyes glaze,
gazing back at the screen.

As the cards fall into place,
maybe my breathing will,
and might my muscles,
and my heart too.

I’m looking forward to getting back into the routines I was cultivating at the end of last year.

The Worst Poem (to date)

Clouds are heavy but sink slowly
risen from somewhere I can’t see in the city.
My head rises from the pillow
when the light is coming through the window
bright.

I sink as the day goes on, slow and softly,
gravity wins me and the clouds.
I close the blinds when the light is gone.

Don’t believe anyone when they say less-than-perfect mental health is conducive to creativity. During the past week or so I experienced a stressful event, which I avoided fixing, naturally, and my writing has been almost non-existent. My painting has been technically focussed rather than creative – I used it as a way of spinning my avoidance for something productive and positive.

I can’t create much good (art, conversation.. anything!) when I’m trying to ignore myself. (I’m also bad at answering the phone.) The problem was soon resolved by other people and I still wasn’t okay, for a while later, to the point where it’s disturbed my sleep and day to day activities.

It has triggered a small low (read: weepy) period for me.

But Tuesday happened, and Tuesdays demand a poem, no matter how poor and unworked. I think if I worked at this one it’d get worse, and possibly more pretentious.

Now go check in on someone you care for. If that’s you, that’s good too.
Hope you have a happy tomorrow.