I have had to dig really deep in order to explore the events that primarily took place whilst I was completing sketchbook no. 2. It was not easy to give myself permission to do this, as I’ve had to extract myself from behind a curtain of shame that surrounds the breakdown of my marriage in 2015.

The typical subject matter I’d been sketching at this point was items I had easy access to, including book covers, packaging or just seasonal flowers and fruit. I had a natural curiosity that outweighed any thoughts of trying to capture the object perfectly. My sketchbook was neutral territory, where my inner dialogue was much quieter compared to the rest of my creative business. I could hear my answer when I asked myself ‘what can I learn from this?’ For me, imperfect sketches could still be useful or important. It was encouraging for me to work this way, as each sketch brought about fresh awareness and the opportunity to absorb watercolour outcomes.

In the spring of 2015, I had consented to attend a few sessions of marriage counselling to appease my then-husband. The counsellor hoped that a prearranged family holiday could help resolve our differences. That August we made the long journey to Southern France by rail. After an overnight stop in Marseille, we arrived at our base just outside the small coastal town of Cassis. The day after we arrived, on a very hot trek to Calanque de Port Pin I realised my marriage was irreparable. After a ridiculous argument over apricots and drinking water I could hear all the metaphorical pennies dropping, drowning out the noise of my young children happily paddling. When we arrived at the stunning calanque with its rocky sides and extraordinary blue sea, I sat in a much-needed shady spot to paint whilst my daughter napped. That evening, without much fanfare or too much introspection, I asked for a separation. 

We did not tell the kids about this significant development and pretty much carried on with our holiday as planned. In the sketchbook pages that follow I carried on as usual, too, with my routine of sketching whatever I had close at hand or what I saw around me; the harbour with its bobbing fishing boats or the view from our balcony where we ate.

I posted on IG sketches of local flowers including the endless oleander. And later on, views of Avignon, the Roman amphitheatre at Orange, and the nearby Pont Du Gard. These sketches are quite emotive souvenirs of that complex time. This sketchbook also displays my gratitude for the beautiful surroundings I saw around me, the silver linings in an otherwise poignant chapter.  

Even when I returned home, there were comforting household items, seasonal fruit and flowers that gave me something to focus on. When I focused, a soothing energy flowed over me as I painted. I only felt relief and release when I opened my sketchbook. Continuing within my sketchbooks as if everything were normal helped me through the intense isolation I was beginning to feel. I tolerated his presence in the family home for the sake of my children, who were still unaware of their parents estrangement. I worked hard at holding it together, and not saying as I felt in front of them, as the arguments accelerated.

Towards the beginning of sketchbook no. 3, I suddenly stopped using the pen line that I’d adopted early on. One evening, I was in a rush to attend a dinner party and with the light fading I wanted to capture these poppy heads quickly. I also felt the pen line had become a ‘crutch’ of sorts—it had only been there to support the watercolours, while I found my confidence with the medium. 

It is perhaps ironic as well as symbolic that just two pages later, I painted a little propellor aeroplane darting amongst whimsical and geometric clouds. I asked for a full divorce that day. The words came out of the blue, and I caught myself off guard with my certainty as I delivered my firm demand. In that moment I did not think about my children or my lack of finances, or having no apparent plan. I just knew I would suffocate and never fulfill my dreams or potential if I stayed married. I asked him to move out immediately, which he was reluctant to do.

When I look back on the page, it occurs to me that I was now learning to paint ‘freestyle.’ These clouds were purely from my imagination. Maybe that little aeroplane dodging the clouds was off on an unknown adventure, trying to break free from the confines of the page and sketchbook. I was finally allowing myself to explore with a more free and fluid approach, less grounded in reality. Although I was still suppressing many of my thoughts and feelings in my daily life, this page shows that within that small sketchbook I was making a safe space to express myself. I honoured this peace within the pain, and from this awareness I could see choices.