A Busy House

Felicity in her studio at her Northbourne home in Bournemouth

Still enjoying a busy life at 60, Bournemouth Art Club’s Chairman, Felicity House talks to Rosanna Cole about the battle between work life and down time.

There is a slight chaos to Felicity House’s home. Be careful where you tread. Piled around are paintings waiting for exhibitions, paintings that have come back and paintings that are waiting to be hung again. ‘I keep meaning to put them up,’ she says gesturing towards the strings that hang limp down the walls. As we continue through the house she picks things up and places them elsewhere. A conveyer belt of chaos.

She moves a pile of papers to allow me to sit on the sofa, but generally her living room looks less of the storage hold as the rest of the house does. Her own paintings are hung en masse in the quietly modern room. The only giveaway that this is an artist’s house is a price written in small pencil on the walls next to each painting; the remnants from when Felicity opens her house to the public during Dorset Art Week. With a smile she explains her husband Eric is a great support ‘He will talk to people and let them in if I am busy with others, then I will cook him a nice dinner’. As the chairman of Bournemouth Art Club, a teacher and a full time artist, House’s life has little room for anything else.

House travels frequently. ‘I love travelling; it inspires my artwork. ‘You see things with a fresh eye – you’re childlike.’ From looking at her work from a recent trip to India it is clear that she gets a buzz from a new place. In one pastel of two sitting musicians she uses strong, expressive lines, which bestows rhythm and movement. ‘I loved that they weren’t going to be there forever – you have to go fast.’

All of her work seems to have this sense of urgency, perhaps attributed to her demanding lifestyle. ‘I like still lives that have something that is going to change, it gives an energy to the work.’

‘I do wish I was less busy,’ she admits before pausing, ‘but I have always been a bit of an emergency painter.’ Not all the work for her upcoming exhibition is finished, yet this is a legacy from her spurt as an illustrator. If she has a deadline, she will go for it.

Pastel, her chosen medium, is the perfect compliment to her busyness. ‘Pastel is so fast and immediate,’ she explains, ‘and it is so closely related to drawing.’ Drawing has always been an important part of Felicity’s work. As a post-war child, House needed to be resourceful. Paper was a rarity, and she remembers opening out jam tart cartons to draw on the back. She also drew on the wall behind the curtains. ‘It was a marvellous surface,’ she remembers, ‘although mother was furious when she changed the curtains.’

House feels that she benefited from the great status put on art education after the war. ‘It wasn’t a time where children are praised like they are now. I obviously felt my talents had been recognised.’ Born in Kent, the 16-year-old House ventured to the London art galleries after her Saturday job. She pauses before admitting, ‘I suppose I was a bit of a nerd really.’

It’s hard to imagine Felicity as a nerd. Now a very art-chic woman, styled white hair with thoughtfully placed silver bracelets and co-ordinating scarves. Although the strong lines around her face tell a different story, she seems to have a youth about her.

After finishing school she was discouraged to continue with something so flighty as art. ‘There weren’t the graphics careers that there are now,’ she observes, and so House followed her teaching interest by studying for a Batchelor of Education Honours at Bristol.

House incorporated a lot of art into her lessons during her time as a teacher before leaving her position in 2000. ‘I didn’t like that you couldn’t be a creative individual anymore’ she says. A move to Bournemouth allowed her to study for a HNC in Fine Art at the Arts Institute. After establishing herself as an artist, she began teaching at West Dean College. ‘An element of teaching is still very much in me,’ she declares, ‘it’s a lovely place to share my skills.’ Felicity, with her small frame whizzes round her Monday night drawing class, checking that all her students have the right arm shape or that there are no leanings figures. After the session one student says, ‘Felicity is a very inspirational teacher - I have been coming for three years and have learnt a lot from her.’

At a gathering of the Bournemouth Art Club for a talk from a major local artist, House, as Chairman, addresses the crowd. She admits this is the part of the job she dislikes, yet, appears confident, her nose wrinkling as she makes a few jokes. ‘I have to organise exhibitions, think about the club’s future and make sure everyone’s happy – it’s a very busy job,’ she tells me afterwards. ‘But being at artist is lonely. I meet people through the club who are striving just as I am – we support each other.’

Back at home. ‘I try and tick the jobs off,’ she says flicking past lists and appointments in her two diaries, ‘but I usually end up moving things from day to day.’ Does she have time for anything else? It seems even her spare time feeds her artistic passion as family trips to the ballet result in a book of quick sketches of dancers and when travelling she always has a painting in mind.

Her 2011 diary is already pretty packed. No hopes of rest yet for this busy House.

Take a pinch of imagination and a dash of no-nonsense!

Elle magazine’s recently appointed Fashion Features Director tells of her ideal reporter and her admiration for fellow fashion writer, Robin Givhan.

Thirty-two-year-old Alice Wignall’s position at Elle is at the other end of the journalism spectrum to that of a reporter, yet she took little time to consider the necessary criteria for such a job.

Within her role at Elle, she appreciates the need to keep to deadlines, although she hasn't personally experienced the ‘news rush’ during her career.

‘Professionalism is very important,’ she says, ‘such as punctuality and responding to e-mails quickly.’

She also values the essential knowledge of the world combined with the initiative to express these opinions. Yet from a features perspective, she believes creativity can also make a good reporter.

‘They still need to be a good writer; stylish and funny.’ Perhaps a way in which all manner of journalists can unite in a need to please and entertain the reader.

Alice joined Elle’s team in June 2010 after freelance writing for the Guardian and working for a number of women’s magazines including Bliss and More.

Throughout her career, the Fashion Features Director has admired Robin Givhan, the 45-year-old fashion editor for The Washington Post. ‘She reports on fashion as a serious thing – not just pretty clothes,’ Alice explains. ‘She can relate it to culture and politics yet still keep it accessible.’

Yet, perhaps it is Givhan’s reputation for being radically blunt with her words that makes Alice think of her. Another element for a budding reporter to add carefully to their checklist – to be remembered.

Life in a Day

Rosanna Cole, 19, on her London dreams, living a Cornish existence and enduring a filthy work life.

‘It is all about old and comfortable clothing. No make-up required. The job is hard, sometimes vile, but it’s good pay. So I brave the mess’

I am neither an early riser nor the typical teenage laze. I usually wake up around 10am, unless I am going to work, requiring my alarm to sound at 9am. I will wrap myself in the fluffy rose red dressing gown because my house can be quite cold, even in the summer, and go immediately downstairs to the pantry.

Being a cereal girl I appreciate that my mother runs a bed and breakfast in the second part of our house because there is always a vast selection to choose from. I rarely have toast unless I am eating at my boyfriend’s house where chocolate spread is hoarded. As a child I often used to eat this for breakfast. Sitting in front of the TV – chocolate smeared around my lips. I still have this routine at 19. Instead, however, now with cereal, accompanied by a glass of Tropicana ‘no bits’ orange juice. It’s not orange juice if it’s not Tropicana.

As well as orange juice, I also have a passion for fashion. After breakfast I will often read from my pile of fashion magazines that accumulate under the coffee table. Paying particular attention to my Vogues, which make up a large percentage of the stack. I love to flick through the glossy pages of campaigns, trends, and photo shoots. The photographs are my pass to the places and parties - a world where I can act sickeningly cool in a short sharp Gucci minidress while still sporting my humble high street, or I can pretend I have written the feature about Giorgio Armani. All of this whilst still in my soft red wrap nestled in my rural Cornish existence.

I enjoy the ritual of getting ready for the day. The order that I put my make-up on and getting dressed. Clothes give me my identity, so they are very important to me. Even if I do get lost in my squashed full wardrobe.

At the other end of the style spectrum is my job as a holiday cottage cleaner. I will not pay so much attention to what I wear on these days. It is all about old and comfortable clothing. No make-up required. The job is hard, sometimes vile, but it’s good pay. So I brave the mess. Working with a friend makes the job much more entertaining. We will girlishly scream for each other if we find something revolting and laugh as we try to cope with the ordeal. My working hours depend on how many people choose to holiday in Cornwall. From a money perspective I long for many tourists yet I will immediately moan about their presence when they clog up everywhere.

Occasionally during the days when my girlfriends and I are all not working we try to meet for lunch in town. Like me, one of the girls lives in the countryside and we’ll often share lifts to the gatherings. I enjoy these shared travels as it gives us time to catch up before the chaos of four talking girls. The two of us usually meet the rest at a surfer-style diner. We will pretend to be healthy and sophisticated by ordering salads before ruining this perception with a large side helping of curly fries. We will catch up and of course gossip before returning to our busy working lives.

I normally spend evenings with my boyfriend, usually relaxing in front of the TV. However, when the long summer evening weather is kind, we take the short trip down to the beach to either surf or just for a quick dip. Wetsuits are necessary if not flattering. So we march, waddling like penguins, over the stones towards the sea. Moments like this in beautiful Cornwall suppress my guilty urge to move to the city and live out my London fashion dream.

I usually stay up late, until about 12am. I sit at the computer or watch the late night TV mush. Before bed I like to have a bath for the warmth and relaxation – this is a ritual that I don’t like to break. I’ll put on the dressing gown again and climb into bed with a book or magazine. I find it helps me sleep as I enter my exciting escapist world. A place I am not just reading about, but I am part of.

A Gory Memory

After 81 years, the former Sunderland electrician remembers being left alone to watch paramedics aid his blood drenched mother.

Now 86, Geoffrey Henderson can still recall the trauma and sickening distress he endured after witnessing his mum fall through a glass door in the small Southwick flat owned by his grandparents.

Five-year-old Geoffrey was left alone, without comfort and confused about the horrific sight.

‘I can picture the window where I stared from,’ Geoffrey explained. ‘I cried and cried for my mother. I felt so scared and I didn’t understand why they were taking her away from me.’

Now living in Hertfordshire, the retired electrician enjoys holidaying in Bournemouth with his wife Olive, 85. Surprisingly, this early memory seemed to amuse him as he turned to his spouse of 60 years and smiled.

‘She was OK in the end’ he said through laughter. ‘The doctors were able to save her.’

It is hard to understand how such a troubling earliest memory can be talked about so flippantly. He appeared unfazed by the event and otherwise Geoffrey seems to have lived a somewhat routine life.

He lived in the Sunderland area for 20 years before moving to settle with Olive in Hertfordshire. Geoffrey seemed proud of his long marriage, mentioning the card they had recently received from the Queen.

Yet, the ‘sickly red blood’ that covered his mother is a detail that has stayed in his mind.

It’s perhaps proof that some awful events stay with us no matter how long we live past them.