Superwoman with holey tights

Collage art by Melanie Pearson
She’s got the Knowledge.

“You can be certain that long patience and griefs jealously hidden have tempered and sharpened and toughened this woman till everyone cries, ‘She’s made of Steel!’ No, she is merely made ‘of woman‘ – and that is enough.” – The Vagabond, Colette.

It’s a day late for International Women’s Day but women are awesome 365 days a year.  You think we have achieved equality, parity and should stop banging on about it by now? Think again.
Yes, for the last 100 years we have had the right to vote – whoopee!- and yes, there are female heads of state, CEOs, etc etc etc, but for how many hundreds of years have we not had these choices?
And now, just look at Trump’s all-male committee making policies on women’s reproductive rights, right now in the 21st century.
Look at the gender pay gaps which many organisations still hush up about (often the same ones who spend advertising money on celebrations of their brilliant female workforce on International Women’s Day) – and all the fuss that was made about having a woman’s head on the banknote.
Look at the way so many everyday items including mobile phones are developed for male bodies so that women just have to adapt. Hey, we’re women, we’re good at that, but in terms of equality, when women have been excluded from influence and inclusion for so very long, there is still a hell of a long way to go.
This is one of a series of multi tasking everyday goddesses, juggling algorhythms, psychogeography and domestic whizzery without batting an eyelid.  It’s just what we do.

 

 

Just Do It.

However creative you are, there are these times when that blank page stares you in the face and you can’t think what to draw, or write. Today has been one of those times. While walking, at the swimming pool, on buses, in the middle of the night, my head is bursting with ideas. And now I sit looking at the white page and don’t know what to say, where to begin.     The writer’s version of tackling this is to set a timer for five minutes, or three, or two, and just start writing. Write about what you see in front of you, noises from the street, the tickle of your woolly jumper against your neck.  Just start.

So I sit at my desk, look at the things in front of me and my wall of postcard inspiration, photos, and love. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And I make a quick little sketch of the flowers. It’s amazing how, once you start, starting often seems to be the hardest part. It takes so little. Memo to self: Just Do It.