Let the light pour in

Or Hockney's 'colour is a joyful thing' (revisited)

Dear Writing friends,

This weekend, the Universe has been throwing some strange magic my way.

I was walking through York with my daughter on Friday evening, when we caught this light show, projected onto the City Art Gallery.

This morning, Substack sent me a reminder that, on this very same day one year ago, I shared some thoughts on colour after seeing a light show on York Minster and visiting David Hockney’s immersive exhibition, Bigger and Closer (not smaller and further away), in London.

It’s February, so I suppose it makes perfect sense that cities in this hemisphere are inviting artists to light up the darkness. I can’t help thinking, though, that these serendipities, served up by my photo ‘memories,’ are signs and portents, reminders to look for the spashes of colour.

Here are some more images from that Hockney exhibition. Even now, they make me feel as if I’m swimming in colour.

And here’s the quote I shared last year:

Colour is a joyful thing.

I want my art to be joyful, actually…

- David Hockney

Here are some of the ways that I’ve been playing with colour in my notebook recently, including discovering these stick-on sparkles.

playing with colour

As I write this, I’m asking myself: Is it OK for me to be writing about embracing joy and colour in my creative process when the world seems so full of pain and darkness?

All I know is that I’m not turning away from that darkness. I’m not ignoring that painful truth.

But I need to find a way through.

I need to look for the colour pushing up through the earth in the purple tongues of the crocuses. They remind me, just as they have every year for the past twelve years, of that in-between time before my daughter was born.

I need to celebrate the first fat green buds on the hawthorn and feel that fatness swelling under my own skin. It reminds me that, even as my body begins to age and tire, there is life still to be lived, life that, with a little luck and care, I can choose to use well.

As I look for those first signs of colour, I’m thinking of everyone for whom there is no colour right now, just grey ash and dust and rubble. I’m holding their suffering in my heart and at the same time I’m paying close attention in order to be sure not to miss the big, difficult and blossoming gift of being alive this February.

Because both these things are true.

The loss and the gift.

The sorrow and the thank you.

my spiral writing practice evolving over the past year

In such a world, in such a time, who can resist Hockney’s invitation?

Dear friends, let’s love our lives.

Perhaps that’s our duty and responsibility.

Sophie x

This post is dedicated to my dear friend AQ who, in the darkness of January, sent me this and inspired next week’s live Writing Together session: Let the light pour in. See below for details.

P.S. Here’s my original post from February 2023.

Colour is a joyful thing

A little reminder that our next Writing Together live workshop session is this coming SUNDAY 3 MARCH 2024!

Sunday 3 March - LET THE LIGHT POUR IN!
4.30pm - 6pm (UK time)
In this workshop, we’ll focus on creating supportive space to write together. We’ll gather, I’ll offer some ideas for light-filled and light-hearted prompts and we’ll spend most of the workshop in quite companionship, writing privately, with some space for optional sharing and discussion at the end. ALSO OPTIONAL: Bring your favourite coloured pens, pencils, stickers, sparkles - whatever helps to make you feel a little lighter.

Wednesday 10 April: WRITING TOGETHER - GET WRITING DONE WITH KINDNESS AND SELF-COMPASSION!
6.30pm - 8pm (UK time)
Productivity tools and systems can so often make us feel less than, not enough, or just plain rubbish. Let’s be kind to ourselves and one another. In this workshop, we’ll apply some very simple ideas and techniques for getting writing done and we’ll spend a full hour working on our individual writing together, with some optional space for reflection at the end. Bring along a project that you’ve been feeling stuck with or something that you’d like to get done or tend to with kindness.

When you join us for a Writing Together paid subscriber session, you’ll find a gentle and restorative writing space where you’ll receive support and inspiration for your writing and reflection. Camera on or off, we’ll write together in response to writing rituals, suggestions and prompts and then have an opportunity to reflect on what we’ve written and the process. The first part of the workshop is recorded for everyone so that you can catch up later if you can’t join us in ‘real time’. The second reflective part of the workshop is never recorded, in order to honour confidentiality.

I send out a new Zoom link a few hours before each month’s workshop session.

Thank you, dear Writing Friends, for your hearts, comments and encouragement, all of which fuel Dear Writing and help us to build this space together. I’m so grateful that you make time in your inbox for my words.

xoxox