A Postcard From the Barn-January 2026
- Su France
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
January in Lincolnshire: not all the stars are in the sky!
Aren't these sparkling, wintery stems beautiful?
January. Everyone's talking resolutions, but I'm looking out the window at deep winter instead.
Seeds lie dormant, while trees conserve energy. We barely see next door's two cats—the log burner's pull is too strong. Nature isn't bursting into newness quite yet, so why should we?
Perhaps the new year isn't about transformation, perhaps for me it's about the quiet—letting ideas settle trusting that growth happens beneath the surface even when nothing visible to others is changing.
I'm drawn to a quieter intention this year: let things unfold with more gentleness. Toward ourselves. Toward each other. Toward the land and creatures we share it with. I'm working on my own inner tangles—the ones that carry more weight than they deserve. And yes, the world outside feels heavy. The conflicts. The systems refusing to bend.
But nature doesn't operate on our calendar. It moves in cycles, not fresh starts.
Trees don't shed their lived experience each spring—they carry their rings, their shaped branches, their root systems built over years. So the new year, for me, has become less about erasing and more about layering. And don't just mean with extra jumper.
Perhaps the new year is about observing what's ready to fall away on its own, rather than forcefully cutting things out. What drops when I stop holding on so tightly?
In the studio this January, I've been printing skeletal leaves—those delicate structures stripped back to their essential veins. Nature doesn't demand we become something new; instead, it shows us what endures when everything else falls away.
These forms aren't endings—they're beautiful in their bare honesty, strong in their vulnerability.
Perhaps not adding more, but allowing what's essential to show itself.
Later this year I will be in an exhibition which celebrates woodland. Below you can see a peek of some of the prints I have been making, below.
In this Postcard
course to celebrate Imbolc, at Doddington Hall, Lincolnshire
blog update 'Rust & Racing Whelks: A Day at Hunstanton'
a closer Look- new prints
Imbolc Workshop - 2nd February 2026
This workshop celebrates Imbolc, the Celtic festival marking the first day of spring and the return of light. Associated with the goddess Brigid (who governed poetry, crafts, prophecy, and renewal), it's a time for cleansing, hope, and renewed energy despite lingering winter weather. The hare symbolises the workshop's themes - representing rebirth through its connection to the moon's cyclical nature.
Workshop Activities:
Mindfulness walk through Doddington Hall gardens to observe early spring signs and set intentions, with the talented Rachel Petherham
Gelli printing techniques led by myself, Su France
Creating botanical collages or single prints featuring hares, the moon, and owls as symbolic representations of spring's magic
Details: Doddington Hall, Lincolnshire
10am-4:30pm
The Colours of the Earth and a Trip to the Coast
As many of you will know by now, I create earth pigment coloured works on linen and paper. Geology intrigues me, so I recently went on an inspiring visit to Hunstanton, with its fascinating red chalk cliffs- read on here to see how that unfolded..
Thanks to a new subscriber, I recently discovered that commenting on my blogs had been restricted, so if you read a blog and enjoy it, relate or have a comment, please do. Also if you have ever found value in techniques I have shed such as collagraph creation or gelli print resources, please go back and tell me. It will really spur me on to continue to do this. Perhaps you may want to read about experiments with collagraph wax or know about a recent visit to an exhibition where a song lyric, 'I drew a line for you' set the artist off on a whole series of wall art and why this method of working resonated so much with me.
Anyway, if you could take time to write a comment, it would be very much appreciated.
A Closer Look
You may like a closer look
at more of my original Field Marks works. Click 'Buy Now' and you'll get some more images and the opportunity to buy with another click, should you wish to.
When I create images of places, I'm not trying to capture what a camera would see.
I'm reaching for something elusive—the feeling of a place as it lives in my memory.
These are remembered spaces, filtered through time.
You may also like a closer look at the latest colours of my meadow prints.
There are a couple here, but there's more on my website for you to enjoy.
Until next time,
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