I Paint My Year

I have taken delivery of the final bowl in my 'tree' series. Here it is:

This is the fourth bowl I've painted since December 2024 at the decorating studio in the Emma Bridgewater factory in Stoke. The visits have been a joy in themselves, the bowls holding memories of time spent with Charlotte, Gabriel, Jonty, Ally, Ruth, and Charlotte again. 

On my first visit, I painted 'Winter', and instinctively set up the style of my Tree Bowl series. A circle of branches outside. Oak leaves inside. A sun always in the inside centre. 

The IFS (Internal Family Systems) model of therapy, which I'd just begun, conceptualises the compassionate, curious, creative, confident, clear Self as being like the ever-present sun, sometimes obscured by clouds, but never absent. 

I used  the colours I am drawn to, which is most of them. I wrote words I felt arise from my own centre around the bottom rim of the bowl. 

In December 2024, I was over-wintering, sheltering from the storms that had swept across my life - trauma revisited and compounded by present-day events. My coping strategies weren't working in the face of the new onslaught, so my therapist was teaching me to find a reliable place of safety within. I came to visualise this as sheltering in the idea of myself as tree. So this first bowl reads: "I am my own tree...I return to myself...free and wild." That was my hope. 

Spring saw some greening at the tips of the crown of thorns branches I'd imagined, then drawn: outside on the first bowl, inside on the second, outside on the third, inside on the fourth. Here's the second, backgrounded by pens and pencils. 

"I await next year's greening."

I knew my healing and growth would take time, the passage of seasons, and patience; and yet, that waiting was so hard and painful at times that I wanted to stop the process. The tree bowls and my perfectionist, pedantic streak helped - I needed to complete the set. 

By summer, the shoots had grown, sheltering me from rain and sunshine - the wreath of leaves on the outside again, the oak leaves inside:

And also last summer, with the help of daily swims in Sweden, and living among trees on Penny's forest farm, I was finding the resources I needed to see the sun beyond the clouds. 

So, to autumn, which is a fall, a shedding. The words on my fourth bowl encapsulate what I've learned to respect as the rhythms of growth. I've come to accept that the storms of 2024-5 will enable whatever comes next, and I treasure these Tree Bowls as keepsakes of my journey, a reminder of the ever-present company of the sun, and so many kind friends and family. Thank you.

"I fall into earth-life.

Acorn. Willow-seed.

We are the making of ourselves."