Short Stories

Mr Patchworth

I like to write stories… here’s one inspired by my Dog, the human condition and life lessons.

Mr Patchworth now considered himself a very lucky dog. He didn’t used to be however and one day when The Little Girl was thinking out loud and talking to her mummy – she mentioned about how she had noticed that Mr Patchworth always had a very worried look upon his face. The Little Girls mummy acknowledged this but said it was better not to mention it to Mr Patchworth himself. “People, and animals I guess my darling don’t really like it when other people point out their failings, even more so when they are failings that they can do nothing about – such as their appearance.”  So, unless you know you are only saying it on order to help them benefit themselves or others – its probably better not to mention it.  Mr Patchworth would therefore always have a worried look upon his face her mummy had said ‘Because of the life he had lived before he came to us my dear’.

The Little girl knew what Mr Patchworth’s life had been like before – because her mummy and the kind eyed man at the rescue centre had told her. When her and Mr Patchworth talked on their long walks in the park however, he never mentioned it himself. He often told her stories – for he was a great storyteller – but he never mentioned the hardships that he had lived through before.

If you watched him however, like The Little Girl had done – you probably would have been able to piece his story together all by yourself – or at least – a very close version of it anyway.

When Mr Patchworth first came to live with The Little Girl it had taken him a very long time to get used to living indoors. The little girl watched him closely and had noticed that it had taken months  and months for the roaring hot fire in the living room to melt the ice that had formed inside his bones. He would lay by the fire panting and panting because he was so hot – yet he loved that warmth so much he wouldn’t dare move – for fear that it would be taken away from him. Only recently, she had noticed – had he started to go for a little walk into the cool hallway when he had started to get a little too warm.

Their walks in the park had grown longer since the days had started turning to spring. Oftentimes he would tell The Little Girl the same story over and over again, about how dandelions were a great remedy for a stomach that had suffered from malnutrition and a poor diet. He would skip about feverishly, darting from one dandelion to the next, sniffing and sniffing until he found a particularly sweet smelling one and  would quickly snap his jaws together to sever it from its root so he could gobble it down quickly. One day The Little Girl had counted 42 dandelion heads that he had devoured and then subsequently puked them up on her mummies hand woven wicker carpet. OOPS. She was going to make fun of him for eating too much and making himself sick when she remembered what her mummy had told her and kept her mouth closed. Smiling only to herself, offering him some water and rubbing his belly.

Mummy had told her you see that both people – and animals – didn’t like it when you analysed their behaviours, ‘people don’t like to be scrutinised my darling,’ it’s perfectly fine if you do it inside of your head – but remember to be sensitive to others feelings because  many times beings are behaving through instinct or past programming from their childhood and they don’t like to be reminded of bad times or silly things that they have done.”

So, remembering to hold her tongue she felt warm inside when she noticed recently how Mr Patchworth was so much calmer these days, he gently took food from her hand instead of jumping and biting at it when it contained something particularly tasty, and she had noticed how she didn’t have to hide the bread and doggy treats so high up any more as he was no longer interested in making sure his belly was finally full. He’s living a ‘satiated life now my darling’ mummy had told her. ‘You see my dear, animals are a lot cleverer than humans in general because when their brains are working properly and they live in an environment where food is always available – like we do – they will stop eating when they are full and only eat when their stomachs tell them they are truly hungry. That’s why he drinks his water quite a lot – he can tell the difference between being thirsty and needing food – many humans, because we eat junk food and processed things  without a lot of nutrients in it – our bodies simply can’t really tell when we are hungry so we eat and eat and eat and that’s why we get so fat sometimes.


Yesterday evening and earlier this morning  The Little Girl had gotten herself quite upset as Mr Patch had not touched the food in his bowl. He’d merely sniffed it and then turned his head away. All sorts of thoughts ran through The Little Girls head ‘didn’t he like the food anymore? Was he poorly sick? Were his teeth hurting? Was Mr Patchworth going to die soon?’. Her Mummy had quelled her fears however. ‘The reason Mr Patch used to jump up at the table, steal food and rip open all of the packets he found and gobble everything he could find up my darling was because he had spent the first 10 years of his life starving hadn’t he’ she had said. The little girl then remembered what the kind eyed man had said at the rescue centre when she asked him why Mr Patchworth’s tail was all chewed and why his coat was bright yellow. He had told her that Mr Patchworth had been sick a lot because he was so hungry and the yellow on his fur was stains from his stomach acid but they would grow out eventually.

Mr Patchworth had spent 10 years living alongside Molly Dog and this was why he didn’t much care for other dogs. The Little Girl had noticed that he ran away from other dogs in the park and the kind eyed man at the rescue centre and told him that him and Molly Dog had had to fight with each other every single day out of necessity. It really was a ‘dog eat dog world’ he had said.

When the Frail Farmer who they used to live with threw the peelings and left overs out into the yard – they had to claw and bite each other just so that they got something to eat. The frail farmer was not a bad man she had been told, but years and years and YEARS ago when his wife had died – he couldn’t look after all of the animals by himself and because he was proud and didn’t want to lose them he didn’t ask anyone for help and he sadly turned a blind eye to how badly he was treating them all. Humans, her mummy had told her – had a very bad habit of doing this. Many people  my darling see life through a different lens, and they only notice the bad things that they do when other people point them out to them – though although people don’t like this – sometimes, when their behaviours are really bad and hurting others – they need to be told so that they can change. Sadly, for Mr Patchworth and all of the other animals on the farm – all of the other people had turned a blind eye – knowing that the frail farmer was a good man who didn’t want to be helped – they left him alone for too long and many of his animals suffered and died because of it.


‘It’s very hard to know when to do the right thing my darling, or even what the right thing is – that is why it’s very important to think about things long and hard and always talk to someone who you really trust and know has got their head screwed on right before you make any decisions about other beings’ lives’.

This is the reason why The Little Girl and her mummy had wrote a big long list before they brought Mr Patchworth home. ‘It’s fine wanting to rescue a dog my darling but are you sure you are ready to walk him every day, feed him good food and play with him with his toys every single day? ‘Yes Mummy, I promise’ she had shouted gleefully, but she really wasn’t happy when mummy pulled out the agreement when she was sick with her cold and wanted to stay in bed all day. ‘I’m sorry my darling, but Mr Patchworth needs his walk and his breakfast and you signed the agreement that you would do it every single day – I know its horrible when you are sick – but you chose this responsibility and unless you really really can’t do it – you must. So The Little Girl had clambered out of bed, put his food down and slowly walked him around the park.  They hadn’t played with his toys that day, or even for the rest of the week and when she was better the little girl noticed how sad he had gotten and she felt sad about it. ‘Dogs need to play every single day my darling, just like humans do’. The Little Girl quite agreed and said she would do her best to eat all of her vitamins and minerals, go to bed early and try her very VERY best not to catch a cold again so she could always look after Mr Patchworth properly.

It was hard to imagine Mr Patchworth being a fighter nowadays. He was so loving and kind and cuddly and the bite marks on his tail and ears had completely healed. Yet The Little Girl remembered the time she had told her friends at school how Mr Patchworth had survived and Molly Dog didn’t. She was proud telling the story, about how he had managed to get enough food to live. But her friends at school had heard a completely different story to the one she thought she had told them and she was once again reminded not to talk about people and animals that she knew and loved to other people – as the girls in her school had called him evil, and a bully and said he was selfish and the whole reason that Molly Dog had died.


The Little Girl tried really hard to hold back the tears while she tried to explain that she knew him inside and out and he wasn’t any of those things, they had misunderstood and she tried to explain that he was just trying to survive. They wouldn’t listen however – just like mummy had told her they wouldn’t. ‘Unless they know someone, or an animal very very well – people make up their own stories based upon your words about them  – so it’s very important not to talk about other beings’ pasts and let people form their own visions of their character. No one outside the family understood Mr Patchworth quite like they did and The Little Girl vowed she had learned her lesson and was now fiercely protective of her little white friend. ‘People can’t help being judgemental’, her mummy had said, ‘and there’s nothing wrong with having those thoughts – you just need to try your best to remember that any story you tell yourself is always only your version of the truth and no one will ever know anyone else’s full story, even if they tell you it themselves’. Just remember to always be kind and treat people how you want to be treated. We all make mistakes, but it’s important to learn from them as best we can.




Musings, Personal Practice

The Art of Vulnerability

Today I heard myself telling someone that I had not made my own work for 10 years, only moments later I wanted to shout ‘THIS SIMPLY ISNT TRUE!’ because it isn’t! I have MADE lots of my own work over the past ten years BUT I have not exhibited it – and therein lies the difference.

10 years ago – my subject matter was exactly the same as it is today. My work is about being vulnerable. It is about being human. It is an exploration of the human condition – an exploration of MY human condition and it is truly autoethnographic in nature. We are all humans, we are all trying our best to live this thing we call life and we are all going about it with our own complicated set of issues, foibles, wonderings and interactions or reactions to and with the rest of the world.

I stopped exhibiting my own work partly because I no longer wanted to be labelled a ‘freak’. I felt like a freak – for putting the personal into the public, for daring to tell the world how I was feeling about things in my life, I felt like a freak because I didn’t see anyone else struggling to hold it all together so I decided to grow up and stop letting any of it bother me. I decided to put my practice on a shelf, make it neat and tidy and consumer friendly, all the while feeling a little bit as though I had lost my precious artistic soul somewhere along the way.

A little while back I went to the Alina Szapocznikow: Human Landscapes opening night at The Hepworth Wakefield and the show hit me right in the heart centre. As I wandered around taking it all in I saw my own oeuvre If I’d have had the courage to create it. Her work was just like mine. Explorations of the female form – of HER female form, creations made as a way of her dealing with her own tragedies, her own experiences. Creations that perhaps on first glance make no sense to the viewer but that you could very easily weave your own meanings inside of should you so choose to. As I left the exhibition I vowed to myself that I would once again become an Artist. It was who I was born to be. And now, finally – some 10 years after shelving my public practice I am back once again.

I no longer care if you think my work is strange, self-indulgent or simply senseless tripe. I am making it for me – because without it I am empty. I was born to create, I was born to take my mistakes, my misconceptions, my human-ness and transmute it all into art. It’s a beautiful thing to once again find that my own opinion is really the only one that truly matters. Obviously, I would like other people to be able to relate, I would like for other people to walk among my works and find themselves in there too – because my work is about a human life that is lived – and where there are humans there are shared experiences. I don’t doubt this for one second. However – as an artist – I am not making my work for you. I’m making it because I need to. I need my practice and my practice needs me.

This year I realised something. I truly believe that in order to find inner contentedness, or even the other thing I have often sought (or at least mused upon my confusion about) within my work  – ‘True Love’ will never find you until you are truly ready for them and the only way a person will ever be ready for these things is by becoming whole all by themselves first. You have to put the work in in order to self actualise. Life is not handed to you on a plate – you need to be the person you were born to be. And I was born to be an artist. My life is in my work and I no longer care if this is viewed as ‘odd’, it is not ‘odd’ to me. It is Art. The Art of Vulnerability and it is my exploration of being human. A glimpse into my journey of Becoming. For I am en route to becoming my best self and this body of work will document and explore that becoming.


24 negative patterns, behaviours or beliefs that I hold that  I feel are holding me back will be being transmuted over the next 24 months. For one month at a time I will ‘recycle’ one negative pattern, behaviour or belief that I identified as ‘getting in the way’ of me being my best self when I took part in the Hoffman Process in September of 2017 and a body of work will be created around this journey.

Pattern number one I am working with is ‘Crossing/creating boundaries’ and will be exhibited as part of the Thresholds: The Adjacent Possible exhibition in February 2018 at the Tapestry, Liverpool with the Not Just Collective.

There is also a call for Artists – do you have a connection to Liverpool? The deadline is Friday 22nd December 2017.

Artists are invited to respond to themes of borders, barriers, doorways and liminality. Work confirmed so far takes inspiration from urban development and the cultural exchange resulting from Liverpool’s role as a port. Also considered are thresholds that are less-than-tangible – social, political and spiritual – and the well-established or newly-born practices and rituals that may develop during times of transition.

Work in any media will be considered. Please email Nicola Roscoe-Calvert at with:

  • Details of the proposed work, including medium and dimensions (where possible)
    • Images of the work, or previous work if not yet completed
    • Any other supporting information you feel may be relevant

About us:
Not Just Collective are a group of artists and creative practitioners based in, or connected to, the Liverpool area. The collective’s first exhibition was in January 2013 at Domino Gallery, Liverpool, and since then we have continued to grow, holding exhibitions in galleries and non-traditional spaces across the region, including Camp and Furnace, Arena Gallery, the Williamson Tunnels, and a terraced house in L8. The group is diverse, consisting of artists with varying levels of experience, and working in a range of disciplines. Because of this, we are held together not by common practice, but by a common aim to support and promote the development of art in Liverpool and the wider region.



Personal Practice

Reading Alan Bennett – a fellow sensitive observer of the human condition

“That was a very clever and bold move you made there”

“What was?”

“Leaving the cannon of working class writers and academics out of your bibliography…”

“Leaving the what?”

My examiners looked at me in disbelief, and then they look at each other with wide eyes and then curiously back to me again

“You mean to say the only books you have read are the ones you’ve listed in your bibliography?”

“Of course I did – you’re not allowed to leave books out are you? Isn’t that against the rules?” I asked – quite unaware of what it was they were alluding to.

The examiner from Bradford takes a piece of paper and starts writing slowly. He folds it over, hands it to me and tells me I’ve got plenty of reading to do.

“Your contemporaries” he says with a smile as I take the piece of paper.

Shamefully I now admit – I’m only just getting around to really reading from that list – some 5 years later. Life did that thing where it got in the way. I made excuses – put other things first, stopped myself from following my true passions, from being who I was born to be.

But I was always immensely proud of that masters thesis and I’ve put a snippet of it here for anyone who wants a listen – it’s called The I AM story – and the rest of the thesis will be uploaded once I move house and find my hard drive. It was very well recieved, I had several pieces of it published and I even presented parts of it at a conference for social change in Vienna!

My own work had ALWAYS been about the human condition – I just didn’t quite know what exactly it was that that mean even though I was told often that this is what I do – and what I do incredibly well.

But recently I found that list, I’m currently reading Alan Bennett and I’m head over heels in love. I’ve found my ouvre, I’ve found my place in the world – in the book I am reading Alan Bennett calls himself a “sensitive observer of the human condition” – I finally understand who it is that I am and what it is that I do.

Thank the universe for mine and others ability to read, for mine and others ability to write AND for mine and others abilities to understand our place in and the world that lives all around us.


Personal Practice

Body casting blasts from the past…

In 2008 I finished my fine art degree. That year I cast 6 female bodies – one of which was my own.

“Hold your body in the way you feel the best and the way you feel the worst” – the two sides of the body cast on separate occasions and then a new body formed out of a blend of the two.

The piece was called An Intimate Distance – a nod to Rosemary Betterton’s seminal text.

It was displayed at leeds university, leeds library and then the Saltaire arts trail. Then it went into storage followed a few years later by my own practice.

Seems fitting then that on the 10 year anniversary I will not only resume my own practice but also recreate the piece – asking the same women to be cast but this time hoping the postures will be different.

I myself no longer have the body, mind or soul hang ups I had 10 years ago – and coming face to face with my own plaster casted body today while having a meeting at The Artworks in Halifax (where I studied for my masters and where a couple of my casts have lived for the past several years) I smiled to myself. The body next to my cast is now probably bigger, more droopy, definitely aged further – but MAN am I happier inside it now!!!

The return to An Intimate Distance and the original will be exhibited side by side it is hoped some time next year and it was lovely to meet myself once again and to be able to really see the transformations that have occurred within myself over the past 10 years.

Art education

Children get stressed out too – Mindful Art Making – might just make it better.

When I was 10 years old – My grandfather – a VERY talented Artist and Signwriter died. His death affected me a great deal and the impact it had upon me was discussed at length in my Master of Arts thesis (An auto ethnographic narrative inquiry into my lifetime engagement with Art Education and the effect and impact it had upon my life).

At 10 years old, the stress of losing my grandfather, of facing my own and the mortality of others for the very first time made me seriously contemplate suicide. At ten years old – I actually had thoughts about ending my life. Now – obviously I am not the only person on the planet for whom an event such as this has occurred and I do not hesitate for a MOMENT to say that obviously there are people out there who have had far greater ordeals and losses to deal with at an even younger age – but that said – the stress of losing someone so close to me, someone who I had seen every day of my life, who used to draw horses and unicorns on demand, who used to bring us all peppermint cream bars home from his trips down Scotty Road every Sunday and who inspired me to become an artist – well – it had a big impact upon me to say the least and the impact was not a particularly good one.

However, being someone who always looks for the silver lining in the cloud – being an adult who had that experience as a child – means – that I can empathise somewhat with the struggles and strains that some children have to deal with – alongside being students at school. And having had that experience – probably also led me to become interested in the things I am interested in – I don’t doubt for a second the reason I’m an artist is because of losing my grandfather and wanting to emulate him in some way… perhaps now my teaching of yoga, meditation and mindfulness is also linked to having had that experience as a child. Because what if my experience was different? What if I had learned about all of these things before that event had occurred? Would I have been more resilient? Would my neural pathways have been stronger – would I have been better able to cope with the grief, the loss and the stress?


Yoga, Pranayama, Meditation and Mindfulness practices – when eating, interacting with students, making my art work, living my life –  are practices that have helped GREATLY to make my life far more amazing – WHEN they are practiced REGULARLY. The impact these things have on – my ability to manage stress, my mental/physical and spiritual health and on my general every day outlook on life is immense and I only WISH I’d had the opportunity to learn about these things at an earlier age. I’m almost certain that had these practices been a part of my life before the age of 10 – would I have been able to have coped with life and its sometimes macabre realities in a better way?

So, after completing my 200 hour Yoga Teacher Training course this summer in India – I have decided to ‘Revamp’ my offer to schools.

Mindful Art Making is here! 

For I am bringing a bit of my newly found Zen into the classroom and I’m about to go and complete the Kidding Around Yoga Course – teaching Yoga to children! WOOHOO

No longer will we ‘just’ make Art –  we will now also do some movement, some meditation and then we will MAKE OUR ART MINDFULLY and we will ALL learn some new and beautiful coping mechanisms to make us stronger as we battle through this thing we call life!

Get ready 2018 – Jennyanne Arts is back and she is bringing Zennyanne Creates with her!

As I currently train artists to work with children and families – why not get me to train your teachers to teach MINDFUL MAKING and Yoga too! OOOOOh now THERE is an idea! 😉 


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David Sharkey – Liverpools Three Graces – Oil on Board – probably done in the 1940’s… I’m not entirely sure! :S      07793020000



Creativity is making mitsakes – Art is knowing which ones to keep!

“If you don’t have a go you’ll never know” – wisdom from Terence.

Several weeks ago I went to the Grove Inn to see some live music and serendipity allowed me to meet a fabulous white bearded man named Terence. After we introduced ourselves I told him that Terence was a noble name indeed for it was the name of the first freed black slave who was a prince – or so my dad always tells me – as he too is named as Terence.

And we talked. He told me of his life and his careers, how serendipity brought him across the moors all those years ago when he had a car crash and subsequently fell in love and I told him of mine.

NO NATURAL “ARTISTIC” talent I’d said, struggle I did in the beginning – but that was why I knew was actually a pretty great teacher I explained.

Because I’ve been able to tell people that practice really does make perfect. That it is more than OK to make mistakes, it’s how we learn, and art is FUN even if the outcome doesn’t look amazing you know!

The PROCESS itself is worth while!

Then he said – “if you don’t have a go you’ll never know”

“EXACTLY” I exclaimed – many people are so scared to make a mistake they don’t try and they miss out on so much joy and fun!

And I realised – thats all I am doing in my life! I’m being bold and I’m having a go…

And sometimes I screw up REALLY BADLY but sometimes I don’t – either way however – I learn. And I keep going and generally – I enjoy myself!

It’s a long road is life – and my talent is all about telling people they are allowed and SHOULD have a go and not care too much about their mistakes, that they should forgive themselves and move onwards.

JUST LIKE I DO – FOR I am human – I am not perfect and I don’t need to be. I just need to keep having a go. Because it’s OK to be human… It’s OK to keep making mistakes and it’s OK to be sad… It’s OK to chase your dreams and it’s OK to lose them sometimes… It’s life. Life’s tough.

It’s OK to follow your heart and it’s OK to ignore your head sometimes. And if that leads you to a brick wall – then that leads you to a brick wall.

But you just got to pick yourself up every morning and try your best to be concious. Try your best not to mess it all up. Try your best not to make mistakes. Find they joy and the beauty as best you can and keep on trucking.

We are human and to be human is to err.

We don’t make mistakes on purpose. We don’t hurt people on purpose. We’re all just trying to do our best.

I’m all about shouting from the rooftops it is OK to be crap sometimes – in pointing out that it’s the MAKING that is important – that should be the fun part! And if what you make is a piece of rubbish – stick it in the bin and forget about it… But I guarantee you will learn.. And eventually – man you will make something beautiful I swear it!

Terence asked me what brought me over from Liverpool and I told him that it was Art. He was a BEAUTIFUL interesting RADIENT human being and I was thrilled to meet him. I learned about so many things and people that I want to look further into – we discussed serendipity, politics, music, influential writers and poets, careers, our parents… It was a fabulous chat and at the end of it he told me that there are not many people like me around… And I took that as a great compliment – though I’m not 100% certain what he meant! Hahaha. But I enjoyed listening to him and I realised perhaps that’s another talent of mine – HEARING people, connecting with people and genuinely ENJOYING people and admiring them EXACTLY as they are. Sharing our stories… Learning together and having the courage to be authentic in a sometimes Inauthentic world.

Personal Practice

How I became an artistic auto ethnographer

Autoethnography – research through the self.

Visual Autoethnography – Art based research through the lens of the self.

For any of you who don’t know – my personal practice is an exploration of my human condition – always has been – but in 2010 when doing my masters I discovered the correct term for what I’d been doing for many years – that term was autoethnography and oh how I fell in love!

When at college I had a glorious tutor (he has featured in my work many times) and he told me that ‘Art is Philosophy with stuff’ and I never ever forgot that – it resonated deeply.

When I was 17 – 18 years old. I, like many others at that tender age had no idea what I wanted to do with my life – but I knew I had to go to University. My mother joked with me but I knew she was deadly serious. University had given her a notion of much-needed independence – much the same as learning to drive and she had instilled into me a definite desperation for independence as I grew up through my life. So when I’d said I was going to ‘just get a job in Kwik Save’ instead of going to university and she had told me in no unquestionable terms that unless I went to university I’d be kicked out of the house – I figured although I wasn’t ready and didn’t know what to do – clearly a full-time job in a supermarket was NOT going to be accepted. So – upon completion of my A levels I promptly enrolled on a free Art Foundation course at Liverpool Community College – and I got EMA payments for an extra year too! Bonus I thought – I can mess about with art for a bit until I figure out what I REALLY want to do…

Yet, once I got there – my life was changed forever. I met Issues Led Art, I felt the power and magnitude of what an art practice can do for a person and I created my first artwork entitled ‘Effigy’. It was an UGLY little thing, but did I LOVE that piece of work for it held my entire life up to the age of 18. At 18 I was for certain reasons filled with self loathing and I desperately wanted to be reborn – through this piece of work, thankfully I was.

It’s skin was made out of patches of the jeans I had worn stitched together with the fake hair I had worn in my own hair when I had it in braids. Any sellotape used had been first stuck onto my own skin – picking up my cells and putting them within. It had my baby teeth – my piercing jewellery was removed and placed into its face and its innards were made from letters, mementos, ‘precious things’ I had saved over the years and its brain was automatic writing I had created about the project, about myself, what I was dealing with and about my life.

I felt a great release with the making of Effigy and I was reborn – I was reborn into an artist – an artist who could finally admit that they questioned the reasons for our existence, an artist who could admit that they struggled sometimes with life, with being a human, an artist who had started to become self-aware and realised that things, their way of thinking, of interacting with the world was starting to change.

When I find a picture of it – I’ll post it here – my hard drive is in storage at the moment due to my imminent house move! YAY!