Come weave this dream with me
Hello friends,
It’s time to share a deeply personal dream with you all and to ask you to help in its creation.
Ever since I was little I held two big obsessions in my life. One drawing. The other horses.
The two are inextricably interwoven.
What drove me to paint and draw, was my obsession with the magnificent horses that I came across from living in the remote Cumbrian countryside.
I wanted to be able to capture their shape and form and the feeling they gave me. Gentleness, elegance, power, beauty.
It was often the most frustrating part of my burgeoning interest in the arts. As a perfectionist, if I couldn’t get that line just right, I would feel such a wave of frustration I would want to never draw again! Anyone exploring the arts will no doubt know the feeling. ‘Why can’t I make my hands draw what I want!?’
Alongside my bumbling art practice as a youngster, I somehow managed to convince my mum to take me for lessons at a local riding school but then something happened (likely some big socio-economic thing that as a child I was blissfully unaware of) and the stables around us closed one by one.
I experienced my first horse-related heartbreak at a young age as the little grey pony (Silver) I rode in the classes was sold when we couldn’t afford to buy him or find land to keep him.
Some years later a lady moved to the area with a bay Welsh Cob mare and was kind enough to let me ride her. I can firmly say that ‘Little Mo’ taught me the ins and outs of riding. She was no school horse and I earned my keep by shovelling manure in the field in all weather. I learned how to ride on the wild Pennine moors; navigating treacherous peat bogs and often riding in gale-force winds with the wind sucking the breath out of my lungs as we galloped home.
When I moved to Canada, I largely set my love of horses down; I was at college, too busy, too broke and without a car to get from a-to-b. In my first year of college, I was obliged to return back to the UK (as I wasn’t allowed to work - during the summer holidays). I managed to secure a job at a local racehorse barn as a stable hand. I was the only woman working there, and endured the isolation of not being accepted by the rest of the all-male crew; working so hard my muscles eventually gave out on me - and then being told by the stable manager that I shouldn’t work so hard because I was showing up the other stable lads who weren’t getting as much done. 🤯
I got a job in my chosen profession straight out of college and once more stepped away from horses for several years. I was too busy working as a graphic designer and trying to earn enough money to eventually afford my own apartment to rent.
Amazingly, a co-worker put me in touch with a friend of hers who had a spare horse (!). And once again the cycle reset. I had a horse to ride, who was a bit too strong for her owner and I got to ride out in the hot Canadian summers and icy winters, marvelling at the amazingly thick coats the horses created to keep them warm during winter.
That first ride out on my friend’s horse was exhilarating. Something in me re-ignited. Why had it been so long since I’d been riding? Something that quite literally made my soul sing had been completely set aside, forgotten under the weight of “adult life,” but it was still there.
Fast forward several years, the pattern repeats again and again…
A horse comes into my life, a divine and generous connection. I get to know the horse, fall in love. Then the horse is sold or worse sadly has to be put to sleep. I even exchanged my horse experience for falconry lessons! I spent time teaching two people how to connect with their horses, while they taught me to work with birds of prey.
Last year, the cycle repeated once more. The beloved horse companion I had been blessed to ride had to be put down. In that moment of heartbreak, I vowed: I cannot do this again.
If I am to welcome a horse into my life, it must be my own.
So here we are. At 41 I am considering the financially terrifying impact of welcoming a horse into my life.
It feels like the leap of a lifetime. Horses are considered a rich person’s game right? Who the heck am I to consider buying a horse and affording its upkeep and livery?
What’s more, I’m not here for a quick thrill. If I buy a horse, it’s for its entire life. That could be twenty years or more! I need to be fit and healthy to do that. I need to do it now!
This is the dialogue that has been on repeat in my mind for months now. Going around and around like a little carousel. 🎠
You likely know by now that I make my living from my art and design work. I enjoy living a single life but that comes with the burden of all the bills (plus my two other furry companions who like to make my life interesting/expensive). I have to believe that my art can also pay for this big, hairy audacious dream of mine. Otherwise what am I doing here?
As such I’ve decided to start something - a new creative practice to share with you. Once more weaving the dream of horses and art together.
I am returning to traditional acrylic painting after years of being primarily a digital artist.
This journey starts with “The Fire Horse,” an original circular canvas I finished earlier this year.
My plan is to release a new original canvas monthly, with the sole intention of using the income from these paintings to bring my dream horse into reality.
The Second Step - A new way of weaving the dream with me.
I know an original painting is a significant investment. If you’d still love to be part of this dream, I’ve re-opened my Patreon Account - an amazing platform for supporting creatives - specifically for this project.
For just £5/month, you’ll get behind-the-scenes access to the painting process (messy studio included!), updates on my horse hunt and what I’m looking for. Every pound goes straight toward the dream fund.
If you’re yearned for more behind the scenes on how paintings happen and how they evolve, this will be the place!
A Note on the Process
This new painting practice is happening alongside my existing design work and client projects. These canvases are being painted in the evenings, in the quiet scraps of time I carve out between deadlines.
It’s not always easy, but it is always joyful. Every brushstroke is a deliberate act of love, carved out of the busy day to fuel this dream. Because of this, releases will be monthly(ish), but never rushed. Quality and soul will always come first.
