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If you follow me on Instagram (which you totally should by the way) you’ll know that I share a style illustration every Saturday. Over the last few weeks, I’ve started to share a few of my favourite pieces by artists and makers. There are a few pieces I wear over and over again, so I thought it was worth sharing them with you all in one place here because they’re all wonderful and because supporting other makers is even better.

Belt by Kaye Blegvad

So I spoke about my love of my Kaye Blegvad/Datter rings in my favourite design pieces post at the end of last year, so I won’t prattle on about them again here – but they are glorious and I wear at least 3 of them every single day. Instead, I want to talk about this really special belt I picked up at the start of the year. When I say picked up I mean I fawned over for months and then got a friend in America to post over to the UK for me because I was so obsessed. It’s got a hand-carved brass face buckle which adds something interesting to even the most boring t-shirt and jeans outfits AKA what I wear most days. I do need to remember that I need to take it off before I go through any security checks though.

Wave hoops by Sacet

Hoops are my go-to earrings most of the time, because they’re so comfortable, even if I forget to take them off before bed which may or may not happen too frequently. These mid-sized hoops from Sacet have a lovely little wave to them which makes them a bit more interesting than your standard pair. Facet is a brand which supports craftspeople and designers, making sure everyone involved in making their jewellery is treated fairly and visible in the process, so while they’re not an individual maker they’re well worth inclusion on this list. Their stuff is even made from 100% recycled silver which is just the cherry on the top.*

*Sacet did very kindly send me these earrings for review, but this review is all my own.

Crescent necklace by Oh My Clumsy Heart

Sophie AKA Oh My Clumsy Heart makes the loveliest minimal jewellery. I have a pair of her arch earrings, but the newest piece to my collection is her crescent necklace in gold which is perfect for layering if I’m wearing something a little more low cut or wearing on top of a turtleneck (let’s face it, it’s pretty much always turtleneck weather in the UK) when it’s a little colder because the chain is just long enough. Bonus points for the fact that all of her pieces are super duper affordable if you’re looking for a simple special something to add to your collection or as a gift.

T-shirt by Tallulah Fontaine

As you can tell, most of my favourite pieces are accessories, but I have to make space on this list for what is my most comfortable and well-designed t-shirt. I’d been wanting to buy something featuring Tallulah Fontaine’s illustrations for a while now (remember that time I fan-girled over her super hard?), and a few weeks ago I finally made it happen with this dreamer t-shirt. I can already tell I’m going to be wearing it all summer. I got it via Black Winnebago Club whose packaging is some of the nicest I’ve seen and are just generally a lovely place to buy great pieces by great designers/illustrators.

Magritte earrings by Pieceofka

These are my special occasion earrings. They were the earrings I got my ears pierced for and I love them to this day. They’re laser cut, Magritte inspired wonders. Just big enough to catch the eye, just weird enough to start a conversation and break the ice at any awkward mingling event. Pieceofka, formerly Wild Thing Studio, custom made them for me 4 or 5 years ago now so they’re not available for purchase but her store is filled with some really beautiful pieces, especially if you’re into geometric designs.

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Okay, first I want to acknowledge that this month’s book club is a little late. I’ve been super behind on my reading recently, so I didn’t have any new reviews to share with you and I didn’t want to half cobble something together either on a book I hadn’t read or one from years ago, so here we are.

But I do think that the little bit of extra waiting time, or slow reading time, has meant that this month’s book fell into my consciousness at just the right time because I was in the mood for all things crime after binging My Favorite Murder.

Reservoir 13 by Jon McGregor centres around the disappearance of 13-year-old Rebecca Shaw when she is out on a walk with her parents whilst on a rural holiday. From its premise Reservoir 13 would appear to be your typical countryside murder mystery whodunnit thriller, a modern Midsommer Murders if you will. But life in the village doesn’t grind to a halt “there is work that must still be done: cows milked, fences repaired, stone cut, pints poured, beds made, sermons written, a pantomime rehearsed. The search for the missing girl goes on, but so does everyday life. As it must.”

Because of McGregor’s focus on the life of the village after Rebecca’s disappearance, 13 years of the life of that community, in fact, Reservoir 13 is a slow burner. If you’re looking for a thrilling, detective lead crime novel, I can imagine you would find yourself frustrated by the lack of time spent discussing the disappearance itself and the extreme delayed gratification offered by McGregor’s structure.

My alternative cover for Reservoir 13 which focuses on the cyclical structure of the novel and the swirl of characters from the village

But if you’re prepared to invest some time, and some patience, Reservoir 13 has a lot to offer. The cyclical structure of the novel, each chapter starts with the breaking of a new year, provides a picturesque pastoral on how countryside villages evolve over decades. Within that each fleeting glimpse at the characters of the village allows the reader to build a picture in their mind of the relationships and characters as the novel progresses. No one character is ever completely defined as in life. It’s truly a masterful example of show don’t tell in order to give a character life.

But what is most impressive, and bet described by Maureen Corrigan of the Washington Post is how McGregor “generates suspense, not out of chase scenes or sly dialogue, but out of the extended narrative experience of waiting — waiting for something, anything, to break in Rebecca’s case.” This is why Reservoir 13 really struck home for me after reading about the Golden State killer, and all of cold cases which go on for years and years, but still have the ability to capture the imagination because even if they’ve half-forgotten there’s still that need for closure.

I think Reservoir 13 has two distinct audiences, which I am at the perfect venn diagram centre of. In circle one, if you’re a true crime fan (even though this isn’t a true crime) the realism of this new sort of a crime novel might appeal to you. In circle two you’ve got your lovers of all domestic and fly on the wall style dramas where you get to really consider how other people live, every day and in times of strife. What a combination! There’s a reason it was long-listed for the Man Booker last year after all.

SOME QUESTIONS TO PONDER AS YOU READ

  • How does Reservoir 13 compare to other murder mysteries you’ve read? Which conventions remain the same, which change?
  • McGregor introduces us to a whole village of characters throughout the novel, were there any who really stood out to you above the rest as you were reading?
  • How does the novel’s cyclical, annual, structure impact your sense of time as you were reading?
  • We hear very little about Rebecca Shaw, how does that shape your internal image of her and your connection to her as the central victim of the story?
  • There’s a real focus on country life as the plot progresses, how do the lives of the people from the village differ from your own? How do you think a similar situation would unfold where you live?

IF YOU WANT SOME FURTHER READING TRY…

  • Kicking it off with another classic Guardian review
  • This New Yorker review goes into a lot more depth about Jon McGregor as a writer and offers a number of really interesting insights, as well as being very well written
  • The Washington Post focuses in on the structure and use of delayed gratification, if that’s your cup of tea
  • If you’re after a quick review which really succinctly gets across what Reservoir 13 is all about, then this piece from The Literary Review is the one for you

IF YOU WANT MORE BOOKS LIKE THIS HAVE A LOOK AT…

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I love walking.

 

Whenever I can I choose to walk, even when it’s not the quickest method, even when my friends and colleagues raise an eyebrow.

 

There are obvious benefits to walking. It’s a great form of exercise. It gets you away from your screen. It gets you out in the fresh air, or at least air as fresh as London can offer.

 

It allows you to get to know where you live that little bit better. I often find myself walking around London and suddenly realising that places I thought were miles apart are actually quite close, or that I know more of my city than I realise. Nothing helps you master a city better or quicker than walking around it.

Walking is also one of the best ways to chat to someone, it diffuses any awkwardness and removes a lot of life’s distractions. For me, that even extends to phone calls, which is why I’m always lightly out of breath when I speak to my mum.

 

But for me the real joy of walking is just walking.

 

I love the steady rhythm of it. There’s something immensely calming about walking, I guess that’s why so many people turn to pacing when they’re nervous.

I love how empowering it is, knowing I can get myself from A to B is such a great feeling. Growing up if I wanted to go anywhere on my own, into town, to see a friend, I had to walk. So it takes me back to those first moments of taking my independence. Now it gives me the independence to leave the tube behind, and make the city my own.

I love how it gives me time to think. Whether I’ve got my headphones on or not, whether I’m taking a leisurely stroll or powering my way into work, I always seem to do my best thinking when I’m walking.

Walking helps me work through problems in my work and my head. It’s my idea generation space. If I’m ever stuck with a brief I can’t unpick or just stumped for ideas, I take a walk. I’m not the only one who thinks so, there have been numerous psychological studies into how walking can boost creativity.

There are a number of reasons why we think more creatively while on the move, but I think this explanation from Ferris Jabr’s New Yorker article sums it up the most accurately and poetically for me:

“Walking at our own pace creates an unadulterated feedback loop between the rhythm of our bodies and our mental state that we cannot experience as easily when we’re jogging at the gym, steering a car, biking, or during any other kind of locomotion. When we stroll, the pace of our feet naturally vacillates with our moods and the cadence of our inner speech; at the same time, we can actively change the pace of our thoughts by deliberately walking more briskly or by slowing down”

Marching to the beat of your own drum, and pumping that little bit of extra blood to your brain, isn’t just good for the waistline or even the soul, it’s great for your creativity too.

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If I could I would probably snooze and watch Netflix all day. I’m not the type of person who leaps out of bed eager to go on a 10mile run or discover the cure for cancer (although I would love to be able to do either). You might say I’m naturally pretty lazy.

 

I also love making things, and when I’m on a roll I’m on a roll. I also spend a fair amount of time writing about productivity, which feels a little bit hypocritical a lot of the time. That’s the struggle.

 

But is there a way the two can work together? Laziness can be a great motivator. If you can’t be bothered to do something you’ll find the quickest or easiest way to do it, and quite often that can lead to you finding hacks to improve things or identifying pointless steps in the things you do. One of the reasons I love reading about productivity is that the more efficient I am the more time I can spend napping. But that shortcutting can also go too far, which is where I’d go to recently. I’d yielded to my inner sleeping puppy and ended up cutting off so many corners that what I was working on had lost all shape. I wasn’t creating the content I wanted to or making the pieces I knew I could, which just ended up demotivating me even further.

 

So, I turned to my laziness to help inspire my productivity and here’s how you can too.

 

First off you need to work out what it is you’re lazy about and what you’re not. For me, I’m super lazy about:

  • Making decisions, if I can procrastinate having to choose if I have to wear socks I will
  • Getting out of bed, it’s warm and cozy and wonderful
  • Napping, see above
  • Watching Netflix, it’s so darn easy to binge
  • Getting started working

 

But I’m not so lazy about:

  • Planning, I love to put together a plan if I can prep something I will
  • Working, when I’m started it’s hard to stop

 

Take that list of things you’re lazy about, and the list of changes you want to implement, then make a plan. For me, this meant that I set myself up with a really diligent schedule for my weekday evenings, in part because I know that I’m the kind of person who works well in a time box, and in part because one of the things I always procrastinate is decisions. But you might also put specific structures or blocks in place.

 

Once you’ve built that structure, the ultimate way to utilize your own laziness to be more productive is to turn it into a habit. It takes at least 21 days to form a new habit, so that means sticking to your plan for three weeks, and doing it properly. But if you can commit to it, you’ll end up making the behavior your default. You’ll do it on autopilot. That means that you’ll be indulging your laziness and doing what you need to do, win-win, cake and eat it too.

 

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This is a much overdue design story. The graphite pencil is the ultimate everyday design essential, the tool that launched 10,000 masterpieces. But it has been much neglected in this series, up until now.

As you might have guessed the story of the pencil starts way-way-way back. In fact, it goes back to the early 1500s when the first major deposit of graphite was found in Grey Knotts of Seathwaite in Cumbria, England. Where the pure material was carved up into sticks and used by local farmers to mark their sheep – denoting their ownership and making them easier to separate on the hillside.

From this first agricultural use, the graphite transitioned into use as a writing implement.  It also spread across the continent. By the end of the 16th Century graphite was preferred to charcoal and lead throughout Europe because of its “superior line-making qualities, its eraseability, and the ability to re-draw on top of it with ink”.

That “eraseability” wasn’t quite what we would think of now though. The original erasers were actually just stale ends of bread – we once had to use crust erasers in art class and I can confirm they work. The move away from bread, was made by accident in France, when a writer accidentally picked up caoutchouc—a stretchy sample of the newly-discovered Para tree – instead of his erasing baguette. It wasn’t until 1858, some 300 years after the first pencils, that the American Hymen Lipman came up with the idea of adding a rubber eraser to the end of a wooden pencil. His first patent included the eraser set inside the wood of the pencil like the graphite, just at the other end.

But before we got to that version of the pencil went through many incarnations. As the graphite started to gain popularity in the 1560s an Italian power couple, Simonio and Lyndiana Bernacotti, devised the first plan for a wooden pencil. Before then the graphite was wrapped in sheepskin to keep the user hands clean and the soft carbon substance intact. These first designs had the wooden case, at that time made of juniper, hollowed out and the graphite pushed through the flattened cylinder. Soon after the Bernacotti’s developed their wooden pencil, a far superior method of sandwiching the lead between two pieces of wood and then glueing the pieces together was developed. That’s pretty much how we still made them now.

As with all great designs, the wooden pencil spawned knock-offs. Con artists, known as stümplers, were inspired by the high price pencils were fetching to sharpen then colour in the ends of sticks and sell them as pencils, causing frustration across Europe.

With a well-defined process in place for making wooden pencils, they began to be mass produced in Nuremberg, Germany, in the 1660s. Instead of the solid sticks of graphite used in the first pencils, the ones being produced in Nuremberg were made from a powdered version of the substance, which was mixed with sulphur and antimony before being reconstructed within the wooden frame. This mixture reduced the waste and cost of making pencils.

That mix was perfected by Jaques Conté in 1795. During the Napoleonic war, British and German pencils were in short supply in France. But the French army still needed pencils. So Conté devised a way of mixing the powdered graphite they did have with clay and then firing it in a kiln to resolidify the mixture. This process was the same one being developed in parallel by Joseph Hardtmuth the creator of the famous Koh-i-nor.

Once the production of this graphite mixture had been settled, there were only a few stages left before the pencils being created became the ones we know, love and use today. William Munroe created America’s first pencil, which was made in the hexagonal shape that’s so common today when his partner Ebenezer wood automated production. Pencils then gained their yellow colour in the 1800s when Western pencil tycoons wanted their customers to know their pencils were filled with top-quality lead, so they painted their instruments in the colour associated with Chinese royalty: yellow.

Centuries later, we’re still manufacturing and sharpening down millions of them. Remember how much history you’re holding the next time you’re starting to sketch or draft.