Noon: I emerge – my bed is an archaeological dig. I am one of those Venus relics: womb, stuffed with maternity books, boobs, bling-ed with suckling babies. Doesn't matter that my face needs a filter or my lips need syringes of filler or my legs need a wax or a razor. I don't care when I say, 'I'm fat.' and you say, 'But, oh, you are pretty.' I don't care. Fuck your beauty ideals. Sarah Drury, 2025 Self-portrait with heated rollers by Sarah Drury, oils on canvas
~there is beauty in death
I remember seeing an old episode of ‘Tales of the Unexpected’. It is a British show based on the stories of Roald Dahl. The show ran between 1979 and 1988. This particular episode, ‘The Sound Machine’, is set in a sunny suburban summer before the Second World War. Mr. Klausner develops a box which amplifies the tiniest sound. It records the screams of flowers as they are being cut. I was 11 years old and very disturbed by the idea of plants feeling pain! This memory stayed with me. I am now 55 and always feel sad when I see flowers in a vase. Although they are beautiful, I am much happier to see them in the garden.
I wrote this poem as I was gazing at a vase of roses on my living room table. The blooms had wilted and there were petals on the table, shriveled and pitiful. A saddening sight.
Rose
How proud was this rose. Its deep
pink petals were velvety and rich.
My hand brushed over a swathe of
suitors hurling bouquets at my door.
The gerberas, all sunshine yellow, resonate
with optimistic women; yoga mats and chai lattes.
They cling to life, fronds of petals falling.
The table littered with near death.
Now the rose shatters, though my
gentle hands cup its parch-dry petals.
As though love can bring back the broken,
like Jesus and the old bones of Lazarus.
The deep pink has faded to the lips of a
dying woman. She waters the garden
every evening, yet still the flowers
shut their eyes.
©2022 Sarah Drury
Violets & Poppies!! Who doesn’t love the vibrant reds and mystical purples of these majestic flowers? These small floral canvases were my very first attempts at working with a palette knife & acrylic paints. Let me explain a little about the symbolism of violets & poppies, and how I created the artworks.
Violets are linked to mystic awareness, meditation and spirituality. Their symbolism reflects the Virgin Mary’s humble and modest qualities. Victorians included these blooms in bouquets, to convey faithfulness and everlasting love.
Violets, 2019, Starry-eyed Mermaid, acrylics on box canvas, 15x15cm
Creating ‘Violets‘ involved a loose and liberal paint technique. Yellows and blues were swirled into a rough background layer of white paint, using the palette knife to create texture. The blues and violets were applied in single strokes, scraping the palette knife into the canvas. The paint was teased and blended into an impressionistic floral. Once the paint had dried, I added scrapes of gold.
Poppies have been used as a symbol of sleep, as the opium extracted from the flower is a sedative. The blood-red bloom has been a symbol of remembrance of war for over a hundred years. It also embodies the wish for hope and peace in the aftermath of the First World War. John McCrae was a Lieutenant Colonel during the First World War. He wrote ‘Flanders Fields’. It is read at the Remembrance Ceremony every year. Here is the poem and its backstory.
Two Poppies, 2019, Starry-eyed Mermaid, acrylics on box canvas, 15x15cm
Creating ‘Two Poppies‘ involved a slightly different painting process. A small palette knife was used on the white background to create a subtle texture. It was left until the background was completely dry. I then used the palettes knife to create each petal, in a single, broad swish of scarlet acrylic. The movement is butter lavished on a slice of bread! The secret is to load the knife with the correct amount of paint. Too little will create a sparse effect, too much will be difficult to work with. When the scarlet had dried, glints of gold added a hint of regality. The stems were trails of green paint using the side of the palette knife.
What is your preferred painting medium? Have you got any techniques you enjoy? Have YOU created any palette knife art?
Would love to hear your ideas and inspirations. Have a great day! Hope it’s full of paint, mess and artistic abandon!
Can you remember the National Health specs of the Seventies? The ones the council estate kids had to wear? They were blue or pink translucent plastic affairs!! My sister had a blue pair.
Children weren’t so fashion conscious back then. We weren’t defined by the clothes we wore. Social media wasn’t a thing. We were out on the streets most of the time, not caring how we looked!
I sat on my balcony and listened to the blackbird leading the dawn chorus. In the early morning hours, I wrote this poem. I find birdsong so joyous! It uplifts and gives me a sense of freedom.
I sit on the balcony, the moon
not shining in a miner's coal sky.
The birds must know something.
They sing with voices looped
around my breath's plume; pale –
a ghost, an albino wren; its beak
submerged in a lake. A blackbird
is a piccolo; your smooth hands
silkworms, spinning skeins on my
breasts. Your breath, a warm breeze
at the nape of my neck. The white
dove's wings are flutters in my chest
as I stargaze; I look for your heart.
I see your lips in the blackbird's
song. Your whispers beguile me,
is that so wrong?
©2023 Sarah Drury
the starry-eyed mermaid 