The letter above is repeated below. Read which you like. It seems a long-winded way to write and communicate a newsletter, but analogue typing straight onto paper (without delete, predictive text, spellcheck, exclamation mark, or even a number 1) is liberating and enjoyable. I didn’t plan what I wrote.
Here’s a quick link to my shop, if you are wanting to browse the new batch of vintage tins containing curated palettes I will release for sale tomorrow:
Carlingford
County Louth
Ireland
Friday, 7 August 2026
Dear all
I hope you are well. It’s been a while.
After an intensive period of prioritising family in Yorkshire, I am here in Ireland on a mission to both relax and catch up with work. A contradiction, no? Not for me. Not for the parts of my work I’m talking about here anyway.
‘I don’t know what she does for a living’ was said of me recently, at a wake that marked, for most of my family, the end of the ‘intensive period’ I refer to above (executor duties, with three houses to clear and sell, stretch before me).
If a relative doesn’t know what I do then maybe you don’t either and are curious.
I am an artist and educator. What does that mean? Why ‘educator’ not teacher? What does an artist do anyway? Especially one who does not appear to sell her Art. I am not a qualified teacher, so I don’t feel the title applies. This is ironic/inconsistent, as I am not a qualified artist either, having never attended art school, but I’m proud to claim the label. I would not, by the way, call myself a self-taught or ‘outsider’ artist. I have studied art in galleries, museums, libraries, sculpture parks etc since I was small. James Tissot (1836-1902) was, therefore, one of my first art teachers. His painting The Convalescent was (probably still is) in the collection of the Graves Art Gallery in Sheffield when I was 7 or 8 in the 1970s (I’m 56 now). My mum (and art-loving dentist/dental school lecturer, who is still painting aged 87) took me to see Tissot‘s portrayal of light - on water, through leaves, describing fabric – and the way he drew in the viewer by inciting curiosity: who is this sick woman? Does she recover? Did the painter love her, as it appears? Where is the teaspoon? Incidentally, the day we visited, on this occasion, the painting was not on display. Disappointed, my mum asked if there was any chance it could be brought up from the basement store? To this day she has eyes that make people do what she wants (an observation of my husband’s).
Back to what I do.
1. I draw / paint / write every day for between one hour and 14 hours. At the one-hour end, this might mean sketching or ideating on a train or while captive next to a hospital bed (as has been the case for much of the last few months). At the 14-hour end, this will mean I am either immersed in a flow state so deep I can only break out due to hunger and the wish not to upset my husband by continued absence, or I am working towards a deadline that is about to expire.
The purpose of this creative output is either personal or financial, in the first instance, but often ends up being both. For example, I might start my day at 6am painting quietly on my own as a setting-myself-up-for-the-day act. In much the same way as people walk the dog, go for a run, read a chapter of their current paperback with a cup of tea, and so on. While painting though, I might stumble across a blend of watercolours that granulate or separate so beautifully that I have to pause and make a note of their pigments and the effect I am observing. Here begins a new paint colour. Mike, my paint-making partner, will then formulate a recipe (different pigments and blends require different proportions of binder, humectant, and plasticiser, so there is no common base recipe) and he’ll make a test batch. This comes back to me to try out…meaning more painting. As I test this trial formulation I might relax into slow, thoughtful painting and spontaneously start devising and modelling exercises to show to students wishing to develop a mindful watercolour practice. Similarly, it works the other way around. I may begin a lengthy painting session thinking only of the contractual obligation that is an unfinished commission. Within an hour, however, I am captivated by the growing collection of marks and colours before me. This is the kind of flow state one would think incongruous with ‘painting on demand’ but there it is.
In the above then I have covered items 2, 3, and 4 on my list of things I do. Namely: make and sell watercolour paint, teach people (in person and online) to paint with watercolours, and take private commissions for bespoke watercolour paintings from clients who wish to stipulate some of the specifications for a one-off painting.
5. I teach one day per week (term time only as a practitioner ‘atypical’ tutor) at the School of Architecture and Landscape at the University of Sheffield. That’s what I was doing, by the way, when I wasn’t at art school or doing a teaching degree. I graduated BA architecture and MA Landscape architecture (1991 and 2007 respectively) and became a charted member of the Landscape Institute (CMLI) in 2012, at which point I (having ticked all the boxes of having a ‘profession’) set out on a journey of feeling confident and assertive enough to swap that profession for a hotchpotch of things that make me happy. The joy of theory and design in architecture and Landscape are utterly outweigh/smothered by the tedium and frustration of getting things built. This is turning into a boring letter. Or maybe the last few lines has caused me to reminisce.
6. As well as selling watercolour paint in my online shop and occasional real-life events, I sell a range of viewfinders and other design tools (designed by me and made locally). And some Supplies I love myself and sell as complements to my design tools and paints, sketchbooks and a viewfinders.
7. I run retreats. I called them ‘wraparound art’ as they start straight after breakfast with a ‘word walk’ or painting-in-the-present session, then run through studio activities and gallery visits, to ‘show and tell’ before a convivial supper.
8. I write. Until recently this has been a strictly personal thing or just a task embedded in education. In 2024 however I was approached by a publisher who wondered if I’d like to write a book on colour (a mindful guide to watercolour kind of thing). My bit is done, except for occasionally needing to rewrite bits of text to fit on a page, and the designer is working their magic ahead of printing. It will be launched in spring 2027. More on that later. Since then writing has definitely become a more purposeful part of what I do, both with my time and to earn a living. One of the things I am getting round to while on holiday is the design and text for a series of ‘how-to’ zines off the back of my 16 online courses. Not everyone wants to learn from a screen. Some people like the analogue approach where a few words can be taken at a time, as low-tech starting points for creativity. Fiction too. I have enjoyed experimental literature since being introduced to Italo Calvino‘s Invisible Cities in 1988 when I started at architecture School. I discovered OuLiPo last summer when I stayed in Paris for six weeks to kickstart the writing of my book on colour. Ouvroir de Literature potentielle is what OuLiPo is short for (meaning workshop for potential literature). It was a group founded in 1960 by Raymond Queneau (1903 to 1976, writer) and François Le Lionnais (1901 to 1984, mathematician) to create texts using self-imposed rules as constraints to drive new ideas. It is not about happenstance or the use of the subconscious in the way of surrealism, rather the implementation of a mathematical or linguistic system to act as a guiding brief or protocol for creative writing. As a lover of games, processes, words and numbers this appeals to me enormously.
9. Selling my paintings. This is something I have done occasionally over the years but don’t do at the moment. Why not? It’s just down to time really. And wanting to be organised and strategic about it. I’ve talked about it here before. I have hummed and hawed about different routes to market. Whether to apply to galleries, juried shows, have print runs, sell on an art-e-commerce platform? I have a think, then return to putting my energy into painting rather than the business of selling it. I have all my other income streams for paying rent, tax, salaries etc, so I don’t burden myself with other another task. But…it is always there. Something I need to get on with. You may have noticed last summer when I sent out I think six Letters from Tansy in the space of July alone! I had been approached by a company that makes and ships museum-quality fine art prints, framed and unframed, with printing facilities in London, EU and USA (so all customs complications were sorted). Sounded great. I didn’t realise hammer-heavy marketing would be my responsibility and had to be done according to their edicts. This meant bludgeoning you lot with way more communication than anyone wants, each with a ‘call to action’, ‘overt messaging’ and multiple emojis. It was so un me. Their tactic also was ‘buy it now… You only have one chance… The clocks ticking… When they’re gone they’re gone’. Well. Belated apologies.
Apart from at the beginning of this letter it’s not been much about news. My plans for the ‘how-to’ zines is news I guess. And the book. And I suppose the fact that making my art available is again on my mind. And that I’m seeing fiction on the horizon. But what about short-term news?
I have a batch of vintage tins filled with watercolour ready for you. These will be released for sale tomorrow, Sunday 9 August 2026, at 7pm BST (British Summer Time). Along with a restock of all our paints.
In September we will launch 10 (yes 10) new colours. There will be two new single-pigment colours and eight new blends. The latter I am calling my Fantasy Dinner Party palette. I’ll explain nearer the time.
I have two new online courses coming up in October. I’m making a start on filming them here in Carlingford in fact. One is called DESIRE LINES. The name of the other is tbc, but my working title is GALLERY GAMES, just to give you an idea of what it’s about (yes, I know the first title gives no such clue).
A much longer letter than planned, but that’s what happens when typing.
Did you see, by the way, that I posted this letter in progress as a ‘reel’ (short video) on social media (ignore this bit if that isn’t something you’re into)? By comparison with my other content (slow watercolour painting and finished pieces) it bombed. Interesting what the algorithm likes and dislikes. It clearly sees an unappealing disconnect between mindful painting and tapping away on a vintage typewriter in front of a scenic sea lough on the Irish coast.
Enjoy the rest of your August and feel free to email questions to tansy@tansyhargan.com
Very best wishes
Tansy
XOXOXO
PS some holiday snaps:
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