Hallo dear reader,

It’s a long time since I last wrote and so much has happened to all of us. I hope you’re okay?

Here we are, at the end (-ish) of lockdown, and the beginning of something different. Whether these changes represent an opportunity or a disaster, we are living through uncertain and challenging times. I’m aware I’m one of the fortunate, but I’m hoping this email finds you well too, happy even, or at least with some things starting to go your way. Like my new friend Roberto, I am one of those people who says Anything is Possible. But then I’ve always believed in magic and fairies at the bottom of the garden. I’m lucky like that.

Let’s be clear (lest you think I am mad) I’m talking of the kind of fairies you can’t see but who will grant you wishes nonetheless. I truly believe anything is possible IF you can decide what it is you really want, or more precisely how you will feel once you get it. If you are clear enough to ask for it, the invisible ones will grant you any number of wishes. It’s a big IF you may say, but I believe in a lot of things I can’t see. Like the flip in my heart at the smell of fresh coffee, the airy space in my head when I think of dear friends now passed, and, as I sit here writing this in my little garden, the certainty that there are one or two tiny blue tits squabbling over a fatball even though when I turn my head they’ll be nowhere to be seen.

Little has changed for me during the lockdown. I work alone, I live alone, I have my health, I like cooking and I don’t like shopping! I have even appreciated the break in routine encouraging a focus on recuperation and regaining my strength. A time for quiet contemplation has allowed new ideas to surface and I have found some precious spare time for playing with clay, and to collaborate with Master Potter Roberto Gagliano.

Pottery Gagliano has been closed during lockdown so I have been working away in my kitchen with Almondine budgie on my shoulder, two dogs at my feet, while Roberto has been creating 5 vases and 5 urns inspired by his Sicilian origins. The shape of the vase, he says, was inspired by the architectural columns of Greek temples built in Sicily. And the classical urn shape was influenced by Ancient Greek Pottery. Carefully applying glazes with multiple firings, Roberto has created natural earth and clay tones. The textures are different on each individual pot and compliment my hand-built figures perfectly. Who’d’ve thought that two such different cultures and styles would come together so harmoniously? From Stoke and Sicily with love. As Roberto says - anything is possible.

I am thrilled with the results. These are real one-off pieces. They take ten times longer than doing a picture. It’s been such a labour of love. Roberto is having wooden crates made to present them in. Marcella, his wife, is stenciling a little logo on them. I’m making hand-drawn certificates of authenticity. It’s such a group effort, and I think it shows in the care and love we put into each piece. There are just 10. We are not planning to make more but we don’t rule it out. They are real conversation pieces. I would display mine in the fireplace, or on the landing halfway up the stairs. But any alcove or good sturdy coffee table would do them justice. The pots can be displayed lidded or separately, back to front, front to back. Perfect for a milestone birthday, an anniversary or an incredibly generous gift for the Mustard Lover in your life. You can tell I’m pleased with them, can’t you?

I wish you peace, strength and love at this strange and challenging time. I might suggest a bag of clay, or plasticine, and an hour or so to squish things about? Who knows what would happen? Anything is possible!

 Big love, and see you soon,

 Sam Toft

When I thought I’d lost my little shop it felt like a death. An inevitable expected death like that of an old dog, but still a cruel shock. One of those deaths where people say, Ah well, she had a good innings, and all you can think is, No no NO, I’m not ready, I want MORE innings. And when people looked at me and tilted their heads in sympathy it was because somehow they knew that this was the way it must be. And all I could do was wish I felt stronger so I could scream and rant and stamp my feet at the very least.

I was not ready to lose my little shop.

So instead I decided to put it on ice. Freeze it over the Winter and look again in the Spring.

As it turns out I will be having a Little Art Show at the shop a year to the day from having a lovely operation to remove some lymph nodes and a lump in my breast. I say lovely because I’ve never been to hospital before and I got to stay overnight with very kind people and someone brought me breakfast in bed. There was no pain and I felt so relieved. The cancer was gone. Chemo- and Radiotherapy to come. But what a difference a year makes. In February I danced for the first time in 12 months at my nephew’s wedding. I’m a clumsy, enthusiastic dancer and I love the way it makes me feel. But for a year I have not had the luxury of energy to ‘waste’.

So: I am changed. I have a different take on the useful time I have left on the planet. It’s a real opportunity to consciously build the life I would like. I have a whole lot less energy to go round now and for 2020 I’m focussing on making a success of my little shop. Not by opening every day, but by opening once every 60 days, and by showing things you cannot see anywhere else.

Love the little things. That’s what Mr Mustard says. It’s good advice but it’s not exactly ground breaking. And with a little shop and an imaginary friend we’re not going to change the world. But hopefully we are going to introduce a bit more joy into the proceedings. I have a feeling that this year could be a wonderful one.

Hallo friends,

I hope your Spring is coming along just fine? Snowdrops in the woods and budding leaves on the trees. I know a lot of people don’t like the cold and the wet, but it is one of my favourite times of year. Fresh shoots. Lots of possibilities. And I’m writing to introduce you to my new project!

I was unwell last year and in October I closed my Brighton shop. I was very sad about that. Little Mustard Shop was a childhood dream. A tiny shop selling little gifts I’d made, cards and prints, along with treasures sourced to complement the World of Mustard. While renovating it from a long closed sandwich shop, we found a quaint shop frontage. We picked out the iron work in gold and painted the rest a luscious shade of dark green. I planted little trees in pots either side, put in a checker board step and commissioned lovely hand painted signage. My work is sold and distributed all over the world. But Little Mustard Shop was always a small corner where I felt I could present my work in the way I wanted. Something very personal to me. Like I said, a dream come true. And I couldn’t bring myself to give it up.

During my recovery I realised I may not be able to do as much as I did before and set about deciding upon the things that were most important. Like painting, friends and family, my dogs, my health, my pottery classes. And my Little Shop.

It would be far too much work to run the shop as it was, open 5 days a week selling cards and gifts, employing lots of different staff. Instead we will open for a weekend every couple of months selling original work. Myself and my partner Graham will run it, with help from dear friends. Over the last year, I have not been producing work and the galleries have been selling the last available originals. But this year I cannot have the stress of producing lots of pictures for a big gallery show. Instead we will be bringing you a series of small collections every few months. Little Mustard Shop and our soon-to-be launched website will be the only place in the world to buy new paintings in 2020.

Whilst I have been ill I have been attending pottery classes. I have managed to make a few small pieces I’m proud of. They take me ages to do but it’s so therapeutic. They are precious, there won’t be many and due to breakages they must be collected not sent. They will be available exclusively at my Little Shop.

At time of writing I have very tight blonde chemo curls. I am told I resemble one of the Marx brothers. You have been warned.

Big love and all the best,

Sam x

Well, the dust is settling.

It’s been a strange old year in Mustard Land but I definitely see a light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, it’s not been a bad old tunnel. I was very lucky with an early diagnosis of an aggressive cancer. And now I am getting better. I thank you for your hundreds of messages wishing me well. I am reading about 20 a week and have enough to see me into the new year! You ARE a lovely lot... I very much appreciate all your thoughts and prayers and I am sad to read about all of you out there who are going through terrible times. I feel so fortunate. My treatment was nowhere near as bad as I’d imagined. I got a big rest, a bit of a shakeup and a chance to put together a more ideal life. Sure there were some sadnesses. I had to close my little Brighton shop. I needed to shut down the service in my Phone Box Galleries. I’m hardly spending any time at the studio. I’m not planning any big shows for next year. But I AM considering doing an art course. I’d like to learn about sculpture and oil painting, printing and animation. There will doubtless be lots of plans afoot but until the end of the year I’ll be keeping it cosy.

My mum has developed shingles. My big dog Betty has sliced her paw. And just when I was getting my energy back for walking, my left knee went all sore. We are a family in the wars. But we are strong, we are kind to each other and when we pull together, things gradually get better. And there are many many bright stars out there. One is my sister Louise. She lives in Cornwall and is stepping in to help run our online shop while Nan is ill. We have help from Lorraine who lives in the village. Serafina my niece is a whizz with the packaging. And they all have support from Juno dog, Pipskin and Elsie rabbits. In fact it’s been a hive of activity at a certain little garage in Cornwall. And I imagine you’ll want to know what we have been dreaming up for you?

And although I am not making any definite plans for the new year, there are ideas simmering of course. I think it will be a quiet year in terms of productivity, but an enriching one too, I hope. I’m thinking about having a few Pop Ups at the Shop premises in Brighton. Small and cosy events where I can show you a few of my new original paintings, sculpture and ceramics. I’m not going to be spreading myself too thin. I’m going to be focussing on my creative juiciness rather than making vast amounts of work.

I’ll stay in touch on social media but less so. Perhaps a few times a month rather than most days. It’s a time of hunkering down and drawing in. I’ll contact you here every now and so through the year and invite you to join us online or in person if we manage to get together any little events in Brighton by the sea.

I count myself very lucky to have Mr Mustard who is such a good communicator of hope and joy and whimsy. It’s a crazy sad world out there sometimes, but I’m feeling that things are going to get better, in small ways, one day at a time.

Big Love,

Sam Toft