She's back (Rusty Pearl).

 

I’ve posted about this in the past, but as she’s back I’ll mention it again.

When I was 10, walking along a country path on my way to school, I had an encounter with a fox. At first, because she didn’t run away, I assumed it was a dog and started chatting to her. It was when she slowly turned and walked away that I saw it was a fox, and also apparently pregnant.

During my final year as a teacher I started seeing foxes again. These were the months I was starting to think about leaving work, making that big change. I remember on two occasions a fox crossing the road in front of my car as I was heading for home. I remember one evening seeing one sat outside the chip shop I was visiting. And there were many visits to my garden during those years from 2006 to 2010 when I was in a relationship and concentrating on my art. That’s when my story about having a “spirit animal guide” started, and I named her Rusty Pearl. She seemed to turn up when big changes were on the way, and my mind was pre-occupied with them.

Last night she turned up again, for the first time in years. Lately my mind has been troubled about the state England has sunk to, the changes in my city and neighbourhood, and my serious intention to move house. I think Rusty is saying “Go on, do it, make the move”.

UPDATE: 12th November.

Here she is again, sheltering from the rain in my garden. (The scupture is of me by a student of mine in the 1980s).

All text copyright ian gordon craig.

Summer stress & higher spirits.

Spent the end of July and the first weeks in August, wiping off as much paint as I applied. Much retreating to the duvet ensued.

 Rusty Pearl came by again, a city fox I call my animal spirit guide. She stood on the patio and pointed to the empty space where I used to put out raw chicken for her, but what I think she was really doing was pointing out the empty space in me compared to how I was when first we met. She always communicates so clearly. Seriously.

The last week of August found me playing guitar and singing in an after-hours jam session. A very casual affair, but it felt good after so many years. Never thought I'd be doing that again.

All text, pros, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.