Chalk Mermaids and Childhood Dreams
- Bonnie Helen Hawkins
- 5 days ago
- 3 min read
Spring is well and truly under way, I've actually peeled off a layer of woolies!
Please don't think of this as a newsletter, instead it's small notes from the Studio where I try to (and often fail) to put my thoughts into words.
As many of you know, my mother died earlier this year. The impact she had on my life is something that can’t easily be put into words. Thank you to everyone that reached out with sympathy. I'm sorry I couldn't reply to you all, but your kindness meant a great deal to me. In trying to make sense of loss I promised to share something about the remarkable woman that mum was. This is one of those small story from her life that I hope you’ll enjoy.
Whenever I draw a mermaid, I think of my mother.
Mum wanted to be an artist and she certainly had the talent for it. Mum could turn her hand to anything and was one of the most diversely creative people I have ever met. But talent is never enough.
Born during WWII just a few streets away from Newport's deepwater docks, she grew up in crippling poverty, and education was a luxury her father didn’t believe a girl needed. Even though she passed the 11+, she was forced out of school early. After all there were younger siblings to care for and her own mother was easily overwhelmed by domestic labour.
Yet, in the mists of all that Mum had stolen moments of freedom.
On rare afternoons when she was allowed to play, with no sketchbooks or paints, Mum would steal pieces of white chalk and draw on the pavement outside her house. Not small doodles, but vast, sweeping creations: mermaids with flowing hair and curling tails, stretching sometimes ten or twelve feet long along the street. Mum had a flair for the dramatic and a need to make something beautiful out of almost nothing. These mermaids were wild and free, their very size making them statements that couldn't be ignored. Mermaids were her escape, I even watched her draw them in wet sand along the beach of the Gower.
I'm not at all surprised that years later the only children’s book Mum ever wrote was about mermaids, they were a life long passion.
Looking back, I can’t help but wonder if something of her passion stayed with me because I love drawing mermaids too. As a little girl I rather hoped I would grow up to be a mermaid. I've toyed with the idea of illustrating The Little Mermaid for years - not the sugary sweet mermaid of Disney, but the dangerous and passion creatures of Hans Christian Anderson.
One of the greatest gifts Mum ever gave me was something she never had as a child, that was support. Don't get me wrong, if Mum thought I was making a mistake in life, she would tell me - nothing was ever left unsaid between us. But once she knew my mind was set on something, she would support me all the way. Mum was fearless and she made me dream bigger and insisted I imagine a different life. Maybe I will one day, as a tribute to Mum, illustrate The Little Mermaid, but in the meantime here's what I've been working on in the Studio. |
Comments