During the years before the pandemic I had stepped away from my own art more than I realised. I was working within the antique and vintage world, trading objects and relics, but the act of making my own work had slowly slipped further away. My life had shifted in so many ways, and grief has a way of rearranging the things that once felt certain, and in some cases quite violently too.

Cock Robin has been waiting for quite some time.

Then, during the strange early Covid years, something unexpected happened. A highly creative and artistic lady came to stay with me for a short time. One afternoon she announced, with the sort of restlessness, one that many creative people seem to possess, that she wanted to make something and I agreed to join her.

Within the “Who Killed Cock Robin” tableaux, the Criminal needle felt Cuckoo appears not as the architect of the crime, but as its instrument — a figure employed rather than driven by conviction.

The cuckoo is traditionally associated with intrusion and displacement, and here that symbolism lingers quietly. He is the one who enters another bird’s story, carrying out a task set by others, leaving consequences he may not fully understand or control.

Within the “Who Killed Cock Robin” tableaux, the needle felted Wren Bride appears as a counterpart to the Robin — not as an open antagonist, but as a figure already in motion. Her presence suggests escape rather than confrontation, ceremony rather than confession.

Draped in bridal white, she carries the weight of ritual and consequence, a character shaped as much by what has been done as by what remains unspoken. There are hints of complicity — a helping hand rather than the fatal blow — and the quiet knowledge that others will pay the price.

This needle-felted linnet was created as a narrative wildlife sculpture — a small ceremonial presence rather than a decorative object. Dressed in layered textiles with a ruffled collar and red lining, the bird holds a processional staff, suggesting ritual, duty, and quiet devotion.

I work slowly, building each sculpture by hand using needle felting, sculpted polymer, and mixed media. The materials are chosen not only for realism, but for their ability to carry character — posture, weight, and intention matter as much as surface detail.

The Song Thrush

This needle-felted Song Thrush will eventually form part of a trio, reunited with her two fledglings to complete this chapter of the wider narrative. The young birds, still in the process of becoming, will begin to grow their own clothing and adornments — not yet fully formed adults, but already shaped by belief, expectation, and inherited ritual.

This piece took a markedly different direction from my original intentions. Early colour choices for the costume proved jarring, stripping the scene of the quiet gravity it required. What emerged instead was a deeper sense of mourning — not only for the untimely death of the Robin, but for something more private and unresolved: a faith tested by unanswered please, and a belief in protection that failed to arrive in the way it was hoped for.

The Song Thrush stands with her two children as a deliberate inversion of the familiar proverb “Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil.” The fledglings remain obedient to the doctrines placed upon them, covering ears and mouth, while their mother lifts her head to sing — a song not only of vengeance, but of fear, doubt, and grief.

This needle felt owl, has been one of my favourite pieces to of made. There is just something so fun and exciting about making an animal with front facing eyes. I find it somewhat easier to add extra expression and emotion, in turn, making them easier to read and understand.

The whole tableaux needs to have an element of intrigue and wonder, whilst highlighting its intended composition. However this does not mean it has to be read like a book and you are always free to look wherever you wish and would encourage you to do so as there will be many curios hidden though out, sometimes n plain sight and some being much more subtle.

This town crier bullfinch, has been so much fun to create, the original story of cock Robin, depicted a ‘bull‘ ringing the church bell, which would of been perhaps overshadowed everything!

I do like to play with scale on occasion, especially for this diorama, but I really wanted to keep the bird theme throughout and only have a few woodland creatures peering from behind parts of the scene.

This was exciting to see. I entered a couple of my pieces into the beautiful bizarre art prize this year, and although I have no idea if I am even in with a chance, just to be seen by this organisation is a real honour in itself.

One of the pieces I entered was my most recent needle felt raven sculpture as you have seen on here before, but thought I would show you the one that has been observed and added to their page .

I’m absolutely chuffed to bits with my new miniature hat stand, it was made for me as a bit of a surprise really and a welcome one at that!

Its very easy to loose or damage your work when your art space gets more and more crowded whilst woking on a new project, but this will definitely keep my future hats nice and safe and looks beautiful too

It has made me want to create a bit of a hat display now though I cant lie and will do this in the coming months, maybe just for me but possibly to sell them in box frames or something similar later .

The needle felt goldfinch. This is one technique I use whilst planning the composition and scale of the piece, but as with the feet, I use different approaches for each individual bird/animal.

I use sketches as seen in the image to check the overall size that I will need which in turn helps me scale and see loosely how the overall look will be.