I often paint with found objects instead of paintbrushes to convey the energy of a place. So while I was out walking my friend’s dogs I decided to collect small things that I could use for a painting. As we walked up the lane, through the woods and across the fields, I collected grass, buddleia and straw to carry home to use as paintbrushes.
 
Little did we know this would prove to be the dog Simone’s last walk, and this painting would take on a whole new meaning; just an hour after we returned home, she collapsed and passed away. Although she was an elderly dog it was unexpected. As I sat in the garden creating this painting and poems, it became a way for me to process my feelings of loss. Look closely and you might be able to see a piece of tennis ball fluff from the last ball she played with.

The Last Walk Home

​Through the corn field,
Not long now
Tail wagging, signalling home.
Thick earthed, stubbled land
Path unerring, leading north
Home
Through the coppiced hazel
Across the potato caves
Sett holes, mud slides,
Pause to anchor the air
And taste just one more time
The delights dropped and dumped.
Unbeknown to us,
All paths tonight
Lead Home,
Just One
Last
Time.

​N. Greenham
​

The Final Journey Exhibition has been an inspiring project to be part of. Over the last year, 20 local artists have been meeting together each month to explore the topics of death and dying. It’s something I think we should talk about a lot more; it feels like one of our last social taboos. After many open and varied discussions, we responded to the theme through art and poetry culminating in an exhibition that will be touring Dorset over the next year.

​At the beginning of the project we were challenged to use a suitcase to create an art piece reflecting on what we’d like to take with us or leave behind. What was the luggage of our death?
 
I chose an old wooden box and created a collage on top which I felt represented the essence of me. The wood of the box, the colours, found objects and pictures illustrate my felt connection with the natural world. The continuous cycle of life and death is represented with the dried leaves, seeds and summer growth. If you look really closely, you might notice details like animals representing my star sign and the year of my birth. This then was the summary of my whole project. After much contemplation, I was left with one question: what was I afraid of? Even after my experiences of the spiritual realms, how could I reconcile my very human feelings about death?
 
Around the sides of the case are luggage stickers printed with the words of the fears I was able to voice. Underlying all of those was one word that summed it all up; for me my biggest fear of death is ‘how’.
 
It’s a big one, so I lit the word up in pink neon, cushioned in the blackness of the velvet box. One bright word sitting in the unknown darkness.

Last Breath
 
You drew your last breath
In the light of the full moon,
Lion’s Gate
Waiting no more - smooth transition
From this world to the next,
Soft, jerking spasms,
Out of breath,
Out of time,
And back in the safe arms
Of infinity

N. Greenham

​See the full exhibition and find out about the new Portland Wind Phone here: ​https://www.the-final-journey.co.uk/www.the-final-journey.co.uk/

This comic tale is based on a true story I heard while camping at Wooders Wild Weekend Festival. I'd just had the courage to hold a corn snake and was proudly telling my neighbour when he began to tell me what had happened to his friend while she'd been house-sitting her boyfriend's python. I laughed nervously.
The next day, I returned to the animal show only to find they'd replaced the corn snake with... a python. Eventually I plucked up courage to hold it around my neck (it helped that there were a load of four-year olds clamouring to do the same!).
When I got back, I wrote this comic. Obviously I had to call the python Monty.

See more comics on my illustration page - www.NickiGreenham.com/illustration

I recently discovered Bennett’s Water Gardens in Weymouth. It's a place I'd been meaning to explore for ages.

Walking through the visitor centre and out along the path, nothing prepared me for the view that burst into life around the corner. A lake surrounded by trees rustling softly in the breeze, and the water covered with lilies, their pink and white flowers like small crowns across the water. Dragonflies darted through the sky, and across the lake a red wooden bridge made the whole scene resemble a Monet painting. It was so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes. I spent a couple of hours sitting in the sun around the lakes meditating, bathing in the Golden Ray energy of balance. A rare moment of peace when I just stopped and stared for a while..I hadn’t bought my camera with me so I just spent the time looking and absorbing it all which was a gift in itself.

Here’s the resulting poem and painting - Acrylic and ink on canvas, 50 x 50cms.

Water Garden

Here on the bench
eclipsed by lilies,
faerie and the cossetting green boughs,
bubbles ripple from below,
ducks dabbling, gliding.
This woodland paradise
filled with gossamer wings:
damselflies, butterflies and
the occasional dragon,
here the soft whisper of
the leaves and waiting water
let my breath soften,
and there my body sobbed and sighed.
Still pools festooned with chakra’d colours,
nymphs of pink and cream
adorned with centred crowns of gold.
Bobbing, mating damselflies
coupled in their life dance
sew their seeds of spring,
And softly, in nature’s warm embrace
my heart gently awoke
and I saw home.

UPDATE: The original of this painting has sold, prints are available at www.NickiGreenham.com/Shop

See Nicki's latest art, poetry and creative healing events in her monthly newsletter: www.NickiGreenham.com/newsletter