Z.R. Southcombe's Blog, page 4

100 Days Projects

The basic premise is to do A Thing every day for 100 days. I’ve started a few of these and so far the ones I’ve completed have been photo-a-day projects. I’ve found that it’s one thing to complete the task – and another altogether to complete it, take a photograph, upload it to social media, AND think of something to say about it.

I’m nearing the end of my “100 Days of Palmerston“. At the start of the project I said there was a real chance it would end up being 100 photographs of my garden and that’s what it is slowly becoming! This is in part due to being home so much more so going out to take a photo is more of an effort. I’ve skipped days (and weeks, occasionally) but I’m determined to finish the 100 photographs, even if they weren’t on consecutive days – there’s about 20 days left for me to make 100.

One of the early photos from my #100DaysOfPalmerston project

We used to have an official 100 Days Project run by New Zealander Emma Rogan (see TedTalk below), but now we have a more informal Facebook group (100 Days Project 2021 – We’re in this together! | Facebook).

You can, of course, choose to start your own project at any time (like I did with my 100 Days of Palmerston), but the group is starting on June 1st and there’s a different kind of momentum, accountability, and motivation when you’re working on a project alongside others doing the same. If you want to follow along, the hashtag for the group is #100days2021.

This year I’m being more ambitious, because I have rediscovered painting with new gusto (thanks to working through an unhelpful belief that making art is selfish). I will write a bit more on this in a following post, but I will be making a painting (or drawing, or collage, or mixed media) every day for 100 days, beginning on the 1st of June.

It’s a little more ambitious than on the surface, because I have a joint painting exhibition in Christchurch at the end of the year, too (more on this later!) But, I am loving painting with this new freedom and I know have a lot to gain from the daily practice of art making.

My writing projects are still on the go, with a couple of picture books that want to be birthed, and my gardening memoir. I’m also writing a small piece for a collaborative book on low waste living. The two picture books are percolating away in the background, and once I have a firmer hold on what the end product will look like they’ll come to the foreground.

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Hashtag quaran-zine

When our country went into a strict lockdown last year I, like many people, had grand plans of productivity. I thought I’d finally get making art again and I just… couldn’t. It felt pointless, when the world had been turned upside down, to keep making things like I did when life was normal.

And then came #quaranzine. It was an online celebration of zines, and I had a couple of ideas forming into a zine concept:

1. A children’s diary workbook to record their experience of lockdown.

2. Our staff newsletter, sharing tidbits from different members of staff.

The original six, made in the early weeks of lockdown in Aotearoa.

I combined the two, creating a newsletter-style perzine, and made the first one on a Facebook live video as part of the “Quaranzinefest”. It reflected what I love so much about making zines – a low pressure art form that’s personal and expressive. There’s now seven, made at different “alert levels” (that’s our traffic light system for how strict the lockdown is). I want the last one to be at Level Zero, though right now I don’t know if we’ll ever get there!

Issue #7, when Aotearoa was split into two lockdown alert levels.

I’m hopping on a plane soon, so perhaps there’ll be another issue up my sleeve before then.

I’m back!

I’m sitting at my dining table with a fire at my back and a cup of tea by my side. Bell’s Kenya Bold, loose leaf, strong, milky. There’s a weekend’s worth of dishes to be washed, but they can wait. The sunrise was a stunner earlier this morning but now the light has a hazy, lazy feeling to it.

It is hard to know exactly how to start writing this post; where exactly to begin. So, let’s start at the beginning (you might need a cup of tea, too, goodness knows I can ramble on for ages).

Writing a book, being an author, had been a secret little dream of mine since childhood. I thought that one day, when I was old and wise, I would try my hand at it. That is, until I met my now-husband. He encouraged me to give it a go, and with his support and a growing circle of writer friends, I started.

At that time, I was reading a lot of middle grade fantasy (that’s fiction for 9-12 year olds, not average-Joe quality writing). So, it made sense to write in this genre, too. I wrote the book that I’d have wanted to read as a child, and then I wrote another.

The first book, The Caretaker of Imagination, was a huge learning process. I wrote, re-wrote, read, edited, took on feedback, edited some more, formatted, proofread, published. The second book, Lucy’s Story: The End of the World, pretty much wrote itself. There was depression, and there was anxiety, but writing gave me something to focus on, and a way to express myself.

By the time book three was due, I’d dug myself into a dark little hole. Self-publishing had cost me more than I’d anticipated, and eBook sales were much less than I’d hoped. I was okay with the hard work – I enjoyed it! – but I was being rocked about by other people’s ideas, and putting a lot of undue pressure on myself. My work ethic was driven by a need to prove myself worthy, which didn’t help much either.

After book three, I ventured into non-fiction. Painting. Illustration. I discovered the world of zines (interestingly, zines are the one thing that I have never lost interest in since I started). I hopped from one thing to another, in the vain hope that one of them would fill my need to feel ‘good enough’.

In retrospect, I had entered the world of writing with eyes wide open, ready to soak up all the opportunities available, but with a thirst to prove myself. While this certainly has its advantages, it also meant that I did not have a firm idea of what I wanted my path to look like. I did well enough (you can see some of my achievements here) but had a deep fear of being found out as unworthy, and allowed myself to be rocked by criticisms. Eventually, I lost the drive and confidence to achieve.

It all culminated when I moved south. Auckland had been my home for 29 years, and I had this naïve idea that I could move to the other end of the country and keep going the way I was. I didn’t account for all the changes, nor did I account for being on my own for such a long time (my husband moved down more than a year after I did). Despite the communication technologies of this day and age, and the wealth of lovely people around me, I felt like I had no one to talk to.

I pushed stubbornly on for a while, until it all became too hard to continue. My accountant helped me wrap things up and I got rid of as much stock as I could. I felt utterly relieved, and got on with being a ‘normal person’. I made art just for me, I discovered photography and re-discovered music, and I loved every second of it.

As time went on, the niggle of failure grew. I’d worked so hard, gotten so far… and then I had given up. The feelings of Imposter Syndrome, and my own deep-set belief that I’d never be good enough, knew it was their time to shine. I found myself spending days in bed, hours crying, because I felt like a failure. Worse, I felt like I had always been destined to be a failure. How could I ever have expected anything different?

I finally confided these feelings to my husband. Saying them out loud was the beginning of working through them. I started plotting some stories again. I made a new zine. I blogged. Slowly, slowly, I clawed up and out of the hole I was hiding in – three steps forward, two steps back.

I realised that I couldn’t escape the fact that I have to create, and I have to share; I have to express myself. It’s been a long journey to accepting that my work has value – I’m not out there saving lives, or giving up my life for others, but perhaps people can see the world with fresh eyes by seeing it through my lens. I reached out to my accountant, who helped me get things going again, and I opened up my Etsy shop, starting with just my zines and some photos.

So now, I am working on a creative non-fiction book, a memoir about me and my garden. I’ll illustrate it, and probably publish it as a chapbook/zine. The leatherback turtle picture book, which I started in 2018, is back on the agenda again, and I have another fantasy story up my sleeve that I am very excited about. And, of course, there are the zines. I’m working on a ukulele-themed edition of my perzine Hubris, and after that it’ll become a larger zine (apparently I really like talking about myself). I have some photography zines planned, too.

Years ago I said to my husband that painting felt like the creative version of coming home. It felt good and I was skilled enough at it to feel comfortable using it as a tool of self-expression. One day, I said, I would love writing to feel like that.

Well, it appears that day arrived. It slipped past me, and I can’t quite put my finger on when it happened, but writing is now a place of comfort. Like painting, it will continue to challenge me and I will continue to learn – I am nothing if not a life-long learner – but I can say without doubt, that I am a writer.

Otago Museum Photography Awards 2020

This year I am proud to have had two of my pieces shortlisted for display at the annual Otago Museum Photography Awards exhibition. The works were She Moves In Her Own Way, a photo of a unique harakeke growth pattern, and Adventures In Wonderland, a close up of a mushroom with interesting texture. Both were in the ‘Botanical’ category.

“She Moves In Her Own Way”“Adventures in Wonderland”On display at Otago Museum

Photo: Waterfall at Huia

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This was the first photograph I took with actual photography techniques in mind. When I lived in Tāmaki Makaurau I did a lot of tramping, and would often take photos. After a while I naturally wanted to improve my photos and somewhere (probably some photography blog online) I came across the concept I tried here.

The advice was to include something in the foreground at ‘human scale’ that introduces the viewer into the image. This way, they are not just viewing a photograph of a waterfall, but rather they are invited into the experience of standing in front of a waterfall. Obviously, it is not the world’s greatest photo of a waterfall, but in terms of exploring this technique I am pleased with it. Interestingly, it’s a photo that got quite a number of comments from friends online and I put it down to the use of this concept.

If I was to take this again, I’d be more selective about the inclusion of trees (less is more, and I’m not sure the overlap of water and branches works) and perhaps play with a few different viewpoints.

Samsung S6, 1/225 f/1.9 4.3mm, ISO 40, 11 January 2018

Photo: Dragon Egg at Sunrise

[image error]“Dragon Egg at Sunrise” 29.02.20

I’d dreamed for a long time about getting a DSLR, but somehow it was always out of reach – rent, food, business expenses, coffee and brunch – seemed somehow to push it down the priority list. What could I ever do with a camera that hasn’t been done before? How could I justify spending so much money on something that won’t bring a return? Would I ever be able to learn how to use it? And besides, I had a perfectly good camera on my phone.

My primary book project at the start of this year was a story that would be illustrated with photographs of handmade dollhouse scenes. This, I decided, was finally an excuse to buy myself a DSLR. After a bit of research, I settled on a secondhand beginner camera that would fit my needs and not be too much of a stretch financially – the Canon 1200D. It came with a bag and some accessories, and even a book on photography to get me started.

There is something to be said about waiting, though. I’ve often taken photos on my phone that I’ve looked back at and thought would look better if I had a “real” camera, or imagined photographs I could take while out exploring Aotearoa.

While waiting for my camera to arrive, I planned my own little photo field trip to explore the . I’d go to Moeraki first thing in the morning, then drive the back roads up to Ōamaru.

I missed sunrise, but was pleased with this picture, which I feel shows the Moeraki boulders in a different way: peaceful, with a hint of mystery, perhaps the calm before the storm. The boulder on the right is my favourite as I cannot help but think of a dragon’s egg when I see it – no matter how many times I visit the beach, with current guest in tow. I love the smooth texture of the sand in this shot.

Unfortunately, it was on this very first trip that I dropped my camera and cracked the lens. I have replaced the lens now and since that accident always double check that both the drawstring and the buckle are firmly closed. Lesson learned!

Now that I finally have a DSLR in my hands, I feel like it’s one of the best investments I have made for my creative spirit and artistic eye. Photographing – framing the shot, capturing a moment or an image that has spoken to me, producing an image that reflects what I see and how I feel – is nothing short of joy.

Photo: She Moves In Her Own Way

[image error]“She Moves In Her Own Way”

This is one of those random finds that I’m glad I had the opportunity to capture. There was a fire that badly damaged this particular harakeke and when it re-grew it had this wonderfully unusual shape. It reminded me a bit of lucky bamboo, shaped by the element of fire rather than human hands. I like quirky titles, so I settled on She Moves In Her Own Way.

I took this photo during lockdown (in reaction to Covid 19). In part, I was learning how to use a DSLR, but also working towards the annual Otago Museum photo competition. I like having something to work towards, whether that be a regional competition or just a personal project. As well as a sense of purpose, it also helps me choose shots. This one, for example, was taken with the focus of the museum competition in mind; they wanted photos that showed nature as it is, and were looking for creativity and originality.

Unfortunately, there’s a small blemish in the top right corner as I cracked my lens, and if I did more post-processing I would probably edit the surface of the harakeke leaf on the bottom right, too. I’m happy with the composition, though, and I think the contrast between the red harakeke and green background works well.

This photo was selected for exhibition as part of the Otago Museum Wildlife Photography Competition 2020.

Canon EOS 1200D, 1/160 f/9 55mm, 14 March 2020

Goodbye, 2018.

It has been a seriously big year.

In some ways, I feel like I’ve achieved nothing – no new books, no awards or collaborations, fewer events and sales – but in other ways it has been a fantastic year.

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The Otago Peninsula in Dunedin

After moving to Dunedin (new city, new job, new people, new house, and a relationship that’s become temporarily long-distance) I felt an internal shift. It was so beautiful, so relaxed, and has a much smaller population. In this new environment, I felt a new perspective. I utterly relaxed, in stark comparison to the last few years. While this was great and all, it was a MASSIVE shift, and I ended up taking some counselling sessions. It pretty much felt like mental/emotional bootcamp at the time, but I have come out with a new sense of self; of groundedness.

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I have rarely felt grounded or centered in myself, bar a few times that have mostly been when painting or tramping. It’s been refreshing to feel so strong in myself, less concerned about others’ opinions and the “right” way of doing things.

With this in mind, I made some decisions about my creative work, including taking on full-time hours at the day-job in 2019. I hope that by taking the pressure of making money away from my creative work I can be more authentic (currently anything I make is a tug-o’-war between what I really want to make and what I think people want to buy).

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Hamilton Zinefest May 2017 (photo credit: Bryce Galloway)

I also decided that I want to stay small. I remember seeing a thread on Twitter (or was it Facebook?) about this, and it has been echoing in the caverns of my brain ever since. I’m not just “okay” with being small, I actually want to stay that way. For my work, and for Blue Mushroom Books. I’m shifting my fantasy series from perfect-bound paperbacks to hand-bound chapbooks, and I’m taking everything down a gear. I’m about sharing creative voices, an appreciation of beauty, and enjoying life in the process. 

It feels so incredibly good.

So next year is about making work that is truly true to me, giving Blue Mushroom Books its voice, being more hands-on with my work (hand bound chapbooks, zines, junk journals, and mixed media illustration). In my personal life, my big project is our new garden, and continuing to lean in to myself.

2019 is going to be wonderful

(With all that said, it’s not like I haven’t done anything. I’ve started making handmade journals (which is such a deliciously creative process), kicked off a happy mail swap group, and attended the Hamilton Zinefest, NZ Book Festival, & Christchurch Wham Bam Author Jam events. Earlier this year, I taught a picture book writing class at Studio One Toi Tū (with one of my students going on to set up her publishing company, Blue Goat Books), visited over a dozen schools to talk about authorly things, and got mentions in both the Waikato Times & the Otago Daily Times.)

Handmade journal goodness

Some time ago, I had this idea to make a handbound special edition of some of my books – especially What Stars Are Made Of – and I was referred to Book Art Studio’s Dyed and Gone to Heaven workshop.

Well. It was not what I expected, and it revealed a love for scrappy bookmaking that had been hiding goodness-knows-where.

Last year, I made little handmade notebooks (that will be up in my Etsy shop by this weekend – promise!) and a couple of weeks ago I finally made the finishing touches on the journal I’d made at the workshop. I then made my own junk journal (named because they’re journals made from ‘junk’) to document my move to Dunedin, and then made one to sell.

Video: A flip-through of my personal junk journal.

The one for sale is called Humanis Corporis, which is Latin for ‘the human body’ and was inspired by some cool old images of the human body that I found online. I’ve tea- / coffee-dyed, and used some interesting old book pages from reference books, children’s books etc. There are also some sheet music pages, wallpaper, and plenty of decorative elements. It’s filled with pockets and tuck spots, and there’s lots of space for journalling.

You can view it on Etsy here – note that the price doesn’t reflect the quality, I’m just pricing low to start with as I slowly build my shop. I’m also taking custom orders, so if you like my style but not this theme, let me know and we can work something out.

[image error]A sampler of the pages #1
[image error]A sampler of the pages #2
[image error]Cross stitch hand-sewn binding.

Auckland Summer Zinefest 2018

As some of you know, I’ve struggled for some time to find cohesion in all the things that I do / make. It was reassuring to have a stall at the Auckland Zinefest with my books, zines, DIY Kits, AND Blue Mushroom Books, and feel like they all fitted together somehow. Yay!

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I also got some wonderful feedback. One customer had bought my #blog zine last year and had been inspired to start her own blog. My Where Do Ideas Come From? zine sold out, including one purchase from a primary school teacher who is going to share it with her class. And I met a couple who fell in love with Ramble On, got excited about zine-making, then had a wonderful conversation with me about creativity, self-expression, and mental health.

I didn’t buy much myself this time – two mini zines from Jamie Sands, and a zombie mushroom pin from IZS Comics.

So, onwards and upwards. There’ll be more news soon about what I’m planning as I continue to carve my own path, so do keep an eye on my blog. And if you want me to come to you, sign up for my newsletter – there’s a link in the sidebar.

Happy Monday!