People often ask me “where do you get your ideas from?”

It’s not always an easy question to answer.

Often, a new bit of fabric sparks an idea. Or, I end up making something because there’s a technique I want to try and whilst trying it kind of turns into something. Or a chance remark can set me off on a train of thought. And sometimes I feel like I don’t actually have any ideas. Which is usually when I get a bit scared and hit a patch of “maker’s block”.

As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve just been through one such mini-patch after returning from holidays. As the suitcases were emptied and their contents dispersed, so were any feelings of inspiration about what to start working on.

The problem is, having just booked a batch of stalls at events in the run up to Christmas, not making things isn’t really an option. And unfortunately, the longer a creative drought goes on for, the worse the fear gets – and the more difficult it becomes to just get on with it.

Having a couple of things half-finished actually turned out to be a God-send, as it meant that I could sit down and do something without having to think too hard about what it was I was going to make, or having to start from scratch.

I have discovered, over the years that I’ve been making, that the most important thing really is to just get started. If I can do that often the inspiration ambles along later, as a sort of afterthought. It’s like exercising your creative muscles – you start off with something unchallenging and before you know it, you’re feeling stronger and more able.

I have also found that paying particular attention to stuff around me, but with a conscious “maker’s eye”, can dredge up inspiration where apparently there was none.

So this week, having finished off my raccoons, I tried doing just that.

And it worked!I was out walking Brian at the local park, idly looking at the trees and noticing that the conkers (buckeyes, if you’re in the US) were swelling nicely and would be ready for gathering in a few weeks time. Lad and I (well, mainly me and his dad actually!) have always been rather partial to collecting these shiny brown nuts. Useless as they are, not being edible, they still attract. They’re just lovely and shiny and tactile and they seem to represent a little consolation prize for the summer ending and the season turning toward winter.

It was breezy and a few had fallen, but they weren’t yet fully ripe (still white inside, rather than that lovely shiny brown colour).

But then I found this…It’s a conker case. It looked like a little spiky helmet.

My mind got to work imagining what kind of creature might wear such a thing.

I decided to bring this creature to life…

He spends his time truffling about between tree roots, amongst the dead leaves, carrying a pouch to collect any treasures he finds. He keeps himself to himself. He set me off on a whole tree-themed train of thought. About the things that live in and around and come from the trees…

It called to mind the sample in Kate Bush’s song Hounds of Love, after which this post is titled. The line “It’s in the trees – it’s coming!” comes from an old horror film called Night of the Demon, which stars Dana Andrews, and which is in turn based on an M. R. James story, “Casting the Runes“.

The film is clever enough to avoid showing you the demon for most of its duration, building the suspense admirably and only spoiling things right at the very end, when the demon is revealed to be a bit rubbish, owing to the limitations of 1950s special effects.

Both film and story have a special place in my heart, being amongst mine and my late dad’s favourites. (The song is pretty fab too).

Whilst my spiky-helmeted creature is in no way demonic, he is a grumpy little thing. And he definitely comes from the trees…He now also carries a tiny conker, foraged on another walk after these pictures were taken.

Once completed, he was followed by a small band of mischievous wee tree pixies, sporting similarly arboreal headwear…I plan to make more little pixies for my stall. They will dangle quite nicely from a tree’s boughs.

Long may inspiration – rather than demons – continue to come from the trees.

(And may the results not be even a bit rubbish). ♥