Escapism

Something strange has happened to me. I am putting it down to a mental suppression of the area of my brain that is concerned with all things aesthetic.
Let’s face it, if I was using that area of my brain to its full capacity, I would probably have commandeered the Magic Digger and razed the Funny Little Bungalow to the ground, rather than look at it descending further and further into a gradual state of grimness.
When, in actual fact, the degeneration of my house is not worrying me much at all.
And this is because I am choosing not to look at it.
Instead of seeing craters in the floor and mould on the walls, a bricked-up doorway and trenches encircling the house, I am seeing horses. Lots of them, in all different colours, gambolling about the place without a care in the world.
They’re very much akin to my wall horses, only these ones can travel, and they are the outlet my itching brain needs at the moment, whilst I wait in limbo to be able to unleash some creativity on my home.
Years ago, my childish line of equestrian artwork was born as I tried in vain to revise for my exams. Colourful ponies with flowing manes and Rapunzel-esque tails covered every surface of my revision notes, and I even started to make greetings cards with my quirky horses on them. So silly were they, that I gave them a suitably daft name, and thus the “brand” Novelty Neddies was conceived. And now, in dire need of a creative outlet, and as I can’t knit or sew, they are making a reappearance.
The Four Little Seymours approve. They are children, after all, and children appreciate a less sophisticated strain of art than adults. They love my drawings, and have put orders in for their friends’ Christmas presents already. I did try to point out to Little Seymour Number One that not all people like horses, and her tweenager friends may not appreciate such a gift. But I couldn’t dissuade her. Little Seymour Number Two has asked all her classmates what colours they like; I had to explain to her that I don’t do conventional colourways and that there’d be no bay or dun horses making their way out of my workshop. Not even a palomino, despite them being my favourite.
Because my horses are psychedelic.
So, it appears that I will be busy in the lead up to Christmas, drawing horses. It sounds like rather a waste of time, until I tell you that I actually had an order for one last weekend. And although I have not exactly hit the big time, it does validate my hobby somewhat.
And whilst my mind has been taken up with the logistics of where to paint, what with and when, something very exciting happened on the building front… the steels arrived yesterday.
The steels – the very structures that will form the framework of our new and improved home are ready to grace the groundwork that has been so lovingly prepared for them. This is a big step forward.
But there’s still a very long way to go until my aesthetic, interior design synapse junctions will be called to action again. I’m not yet ready peruse antique shops, order fabric swatches, or go to Carpet Right. I must still continue to avoid Ikea. But the steels represent progress, and raise hope that these follies will be necessary again one day.
And in the mean time, my Novelty Neddies can career and frolic out of the walls as they please, inspiring me to create nonsense pictures that do nothing more than make the Four Little Seymours smile, and provide me with my own special variant of escapism in this time of renovative stress and political unease.
Well, along with the latest Jilly Cooper, that is.