Summer Salon Library

A Thin Place  By Sarah Jane Grace

It’s easy to get caught up on the treadmill of life with things to do, people to see and places to go. Yet, when we consciously choose to take a deep breath and step away for a while, we can be transported into that space within where creativity, hope and inspiration resides. There are places where the silence speaks louder than the busy-ness of life… 

As I sat under the giant canopy, the dappled sunlight gently reached me, flickering gently. The branches of the tree twisted around me, tangled in space and time like a silent, majestic witness. The ground was soft, layered with the seasons upon seasons. This was an old tree, but this wasn’t just a tree, it was a sacred place, a thin place.  

I could sense the roots of the Yew gently breathing and whispering, and I felt transported into the stillness and silence. Yet, this wasn’t an empty place, it was a thin place; a place where the connection between here and there falls away. I felt captured in a moment where I was breathing as one with the Yew. We were connected on a level I couldn’t comprehend, but I didn’t need to as this was a space for resting in the moment; just being.  

The sunlight made the shadows under the branches dance, the space felt both life-affirming and unknowable. I felt here but not here at the same time, as though time had folded in on itself to allow each breath to be made more consciously, more courageously. We spend so much of life with our breaths held slightly in, too busy to breathe wholeheartedly, when we pause, the walls fall away, and everything feels bigger once again. Breathing with courage, breathing with renewed life.  

In that moment, my own worries felt insignificant and drifted away as I felt my hopes and dreams rise up to the surface. The tree was re-awakening my heart and soul, showing me the power of finding balance once again. This power wasn’t pulsing with energy, it was more of a silent strength, reminding me of the power of being alive.  

I sat for a while longer in a silent reverence, captured in the moment, letting everything go. I felt untethered; free. I gave my silent gratitude and left as quietly as I’d arrived, feeling somehow taller. The energy was both precious and sacred, life giving and life affirming.  

The silent strength lingered within me, a cherished reminder to live a life untethered…

 

Where Stillness Finds Me By Dawn Stemmer

When the noise grows too full
and my thoughts lose their way,
I turn to the page
where no words need to stay.

Just water and pigment,
a pause in mid-air,
a sweep of soft silence
that says: I am there.

In the hush of the bristles,
in each pooling hue,
my breath finds its rhythm,
my spirit does too.

No need for the fixing,
no striving for more —
just colour and stillness,
a wide-open door.

Summer Salon Gallery

Tanya Almeida

Tanya has learnt to paint since being unwell. Previously, she’d done some sculpture and pottery but didn’t think she could draw or paint. Like so many of us who’ve tried to find new things to do within the confines of illness, particularly those that require less energy and are seated, she took up painting. “It’s been brilliant as it’s something new I’ve learned and made progress with at a time when my other exercise-based hobbies weren’t a possibility”.

Her painting is  varied as she hasn’t yet settled on a style, so  currently paint images she’s found in calendars or books, and vary them slightly. Her next plan is to start painting from photos.

Jane Skelton

Jane  started watercolour painting when she retired 10 years ago. However,  post Covid, she found herself unable to continue due to low energy levels and inability to concentrate for long without feeling ill. She now feels that she’s lost all confidence in her abilities (something so many of us can relate to with prolonged illness). Two months prior to catching the virus she’d been successful in a painting competition and the Polar Bear painting was displayed in a London Gallery. 

Her beautiful and tranquil painting of a Buddha has helped her through long Covid, giving her a visual and calming focus when doing her breathing exercises, and slowly by pacing herself she’s painting more.

Paintings by Jane Skelton

Kerstin Sailer

In one of our most recent Twilight sessions, Suzi explained that breathing feels easier when you have a smug expression on your face, as it then gets more open, inviting us to think of a smug frog. She said this also helps when you’re breathing underneath a mask, so the idea of the smug frog in a mask was born. It was such a fun thing to draw.

Having more time on her hands due to limited capacity for work with illness, Kerstin has only recently rediscovered the joy of creating art and, in particular, drawing.  It’s a bittersweet thing to find joy through illness in previously unknown places.  

Julia Buckley

Julia has recently been going to an art group on Monday mornings, and this intricate piece is something that she made with scraps of material and bits of plastic, wool, lace, beads, a hair grip, and other bits and pieces.

She named her Constance to remind her of the beautiful constant things in life that we often overlook.  And a reminder of how with a bit of thought and ingenuity we can turn the things we discard into things of beauty.

Dawn Stemmer

Artist’s reflection: During my recovery from Long-Covid, I often found myself overwhelmed—mentally exhausted, emotionally over-stretched, and physically unable to even face a screen. Writing, once my safe haven, became impossible. But in the quiet of my healing, I discovered breath again—not just through lungs, but through brushstrokes.

This ballerina was painted in one of those moments. I had followed a 15-minute live tutorial by the artist Michael Soloviev. His fluid, intuitive movement mirrored the rhythm I longed to find again inside myself. Two brushes, a small bamboo palette, and my trembling hand found rest in simplicity.

In this painting, I do not try to perform. I do not try to perfect. I simply breathe in line with the water, and allow colour to do what words could not.

This piece is my quiet symphony—an offering of thanks to the ENO Breathe programme. It was through your music and breathwork that I began to remember how to live gently again. I paint not because I’m breathless, overwhelmed emotionally, or feeling weary again, but because I am whole enough now to let my story flow differently.

This is where breath becomes brushstroke.
Where silence becomes music.
Where life whispers, softly: You’re still here. You’re still healing. You’re still becoming

Cathy Settle

 Cathy has always been an artist since childhood, and nearly went to art college, but having become a nurse instead she found she didn’t have time for her artwork. She took early retirement in 2007 and returned to art, launching an animal and pet portrait business.  However when struck with Covid pneumonia in March 2020, she was left with severe debilitating Long Covid symptoms and pulmonary fibrosis. She can’t draw as quickly nowadays however, but her results are still wonderful. 

Julia Forbes

Images from my garden: I can’t manage much outside my house at the moment, but the garden is looking particularly pretty this year so I can sit (or preferably lay in my hammock) outside and enjoy it.

A reminder that the smaller things close to us can be so inspiring….. 

Jane Cox

Summer spaces: The painting is based on photos Jane took on a bike ride several years ago in North Wales near Criccieth, when the foxgloves were in flower and the hay meadows just cut. The bike ride was before Jane got long Covid, and when she wasn’t able to take much exercise, she used to often visualise that time on her bike.  Now she’s getting back to cycling, which is a major milestone.. “Doing the painting was a big milestone too as I have found it very hard brain fog-wise getting back to painting since I got ill.  Even explaining the background to the painting makes me feel quite emotional, so it all feels like a big achievement!”  

Jessica Brice

Jessica enjoyed acrylic painting at school but hadn’t used watercolours until she was off work in 2023 recovering from Covid. She arranged private lessons, as it was a relaxing way to learn something new.

The bluebells were picked from my allotment. “This was the first day when they were a vivid blue. They lasted a month in the vase on the window sill and the shade of blue slowly faded to a pale mauve with big green seeds, and the stems went a deep red. It was fascinating to watch them as they evolved”

Music Room

🎵 Songs for Summer Spaces

What songs feel like summer? Whether it’s your local park, annual BBQ, a windswept beach, a quiet snug, or even a place from your favourite book or TV show — tell us what songs belong there and why.

☀️Musings on Summertime by Group Coordinator, Laura Wyatt O’Keefe: Summertime is one of those songs that I can not remember not knowing. It’s curious how this little lullaby from a 1930’s opera is compiled on the collective mix tape of our hearts and imaginations, nestled between Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and Happy Birthday. We hear a whisper of it on our neighbour’s radio and find ourselves humming along, over a sink full of washing up. Most of us don’t think of Clara singing to her baby, full of hope. The story of the opera is forgotten to us. Perhaps we think of Nina Simone, Louis Armstrong or The Zombies? But despite who is singing or whether there is the defiant call of the trumpet – the sound of hope remains, resonates and reminds us that one of these days, we are going to rise up singing.

If you would like to find out more about the history of Summertime, have a look here.