Chapter 12
Artist
1642 - Summer in Dunnedin
Starrling was becoming quite the regular customer at the Tavern. She delivered her goods to her newfound customers, allowing herself plenty of time for chat. She’d often stop by the Tavern for friendly conversation and a bit of rest before heading home to tend the animals. She had even taken to carrying her drawing book and charcoal around with her in her market basket, as she’d found there were many interesting subjects to sketch at the Tavern. Her most perplexing subject was the mermaid’s likeness that hung over the bar. She couldn’t put her finger on it but there was something about it that kept her imagination from taking it just that extra step far enough to finish the drawing. However, challenges such as these were what Starrling thrived on. She did find herself sketching many of the customers at the Tavern, often presenting the finished product to them. Most of the time, her subjects were surprised that she simply handed it over without expecting payment. But payment was never expected or even imagined; it was not Starrling’s way when it came to her drawing.
When she was nine, Starrling was often so far ahead in her studies that she would exasperate her teachers. Out of desperation, someone shoved a thin slice of wood from a recent harvest in her hands and pointed to the hearth. Starrling scrounged around until she found a piece of charred wood that would fit her hand nicely. Shooed outside, she would look at the trees, the clouds, the flowers and see “pictures” in them. Often a cloud looked like a wild rabbit on its haunches, or the branches and leaves of a tree would remind her of a hawk with wings spread. She began to scratch such things on pieces of wood and soon her teachers realized there was an artistic talent that was as yet untapped. They encouraged her to try to draw people and again, her charcoal just flowed, the images brought to life by that vivid imagination of hers. When she drew, the hours flitted by, so engrossed she was. In truth, her teachers considered this state to be almost trance-like, which gave them ideas for her later lessons in scrying at the Well. When that time did indeed come, and she was of the age to look into the Sacred Well for visions of the past, present and future, she was then able to transfer the images onto any surface they handed her. This was quite helpful to the elders since her young mind often did not fully recognize the magnitude of her visions.
Eventually, she learned how to process her own paper, using blades of grass, plant fibers and bits of flower. It was a rough and often uneven paper, but it lent a certain beauty to her subject. As she got older, she learned to make large amounts of paper at one time and bind it into a book made of bark tied with leather strips. Carrying it everywhere, she made certain it was always refilled when her paper supply ran low.
At times, Starrling used her drawing to ground herself, to center her feelings and delve deeply into her spirituality. She immersed herself in the simple beauty of the petals of Sweet William, or the rippling fields of heather, the soft waving lavender or whatever loveliness constantly surrounded her. Oftentimes, the beauty of her subject would bring tears to her eyes, so great was her hold on it. During times of snowfall, she would catch flakes and stare at them till they melted; then quickly reproduce the image. Icicles also provided a wondrous challenge for her, using her strict black and white to portray the shine, the shadow and the glint from the sun. Her fingers became tools also, when she would dip one onto her tongue and smudge the charcoal a bit. It created the most lovely blur at times and became her favorite method of creating shadow with hue.
She never forgot this birth of her life of drawing yet it was her only talent that she lacked self confidence in. A perfectionism that was completely out of character seemed to take over her soul. Yet she became an almost constant fixture at the Tavern, sitting quietly with her book and charcoal, her fingers and often her skirts were nearly always blackened as she captured a patron or a Tavern worker.
To relax at home after her work was done she would draw her animals or the vegetation around her cottage. It never mattered to her if she drew the same things more than once for each piece ended up showing a different side of her subject, depending upon her mood.
Despite all the pleasure she received from this talent, her one wish was for a set of colors. How much life she would be able to add if it were only for the colors! She knew that certain sacrifices would have to be made if she were to purchase such a set. One day, as she was dying her wool, the thought suddenly struck her, Why not use the dye for her colors? Eagerly she began her experimentation and soon came up with four basic colors, enough to create many shades and combinations. Her thrill at this find caused her to take many of her previous drawings of flora and fauna and touch color to them. The results were watery, almost mysterious. She was ecstatic. Soon the walls in her cottage, already jammed with herbs hanging to dry, were covered in her newfound colorful handiwork. She would often sit in her little bed and admire the view, the fire flickering on the hearth changing the hues and shadows. She was happy in her little cottage, with her business on the side, and her friends at the Tavern.
Chapter 13
HOME
