by Laura Bernardeschi Nelson
As we reach the heart of late spring, the days here have become wonderfully long. With the sun lingering in the sky until almost 11:00 PM, my garden has truly become my favourite place to be. There is a deep, quiet magic in sitting outside during these extended hours, listening to the gentle songs of the birds, the soft rustle of the leaves in the wind, and the delicate music of my own art installations.
Creating My Sanctuary
Building this space has been a labour of love, drawing deeply from the lessons I learnt while living on my narrowboat. Handling rope always brings me back to those days on the water—there is something grounding and meditative about the feel of the cord in my hands, a rhythm of work that brings me peace.
Sometimes I work for hours in the garden without noticing the time. I lose myself creating art and only become aware of the passing hours when my Viking returns home from work or when my hands and back remind me they crave a hot shower and a bit of rest. Yet, I adore the process—adorning the pergola and building privacy barriers with camo netting combined with mabu reeds, ropes, and branches from real trees. This is a blend of art and technique I learned on the narrowboat, intertwined with the natural materials that surround me.
Blending Nature and Art
I have found myself increasingly drawn to natural materials, weaving them into the very fabric of my sanctuary:
Organic Elements
My installations are adorned with oyster shells, found driftwood, and seashells, all tied together with earthy jute rope.
The Living/Dead Hedge
Into the structure of my camo netting, I weave dried lavender flowers and branches trimmed from my trees during pruning. This creates a sort of “dead hedge,” a beautiful, organic texture that softens the artificial netting and blends my barriers seamlessly into the garden’s life.
The Pergola
I have transformed this structure using sturdy wood, rope, and layers of bean curtains, mixed with wood and oyster shells that catch the light beautifully.
Finding Myself in a Foreign Land
Even though five years have passed, I still feel more connected to the places that shaped my earlier journey than to the city where I currently live. My dreams are revealing; while I often see my hometown of Livorno, or London, Bristol, and Marlborough—places where I have lived in my past—Newcastle rarely appears in them. Sometimes I wonder whether memory travels through generations, quietly guiding us toward certain landscapes and connections. Here, in the winter within my home and in the spring and summer within my garden, I have finally found a space where I can ease my anxiety and reconnect with myself.
A Space for Peace
Living in the quiet neighbourhood of North Gosforth, I have found that my garden offers a welcome sense of privacy and calm. The boundaries I create are not barriers against the world, but gentle frames that allow creativity, reflection, and imagination to flourish. These handmade structures are more than decorations; they are part of the sanctuary I have built for myself, helping me nurture a peaceful and uninterrupted creative process.
Looking Ahead
Whether I am painting or simply resting, I find that being surrounded by my own work, tucked behind my handmade curtains and nets, allows me to fully embrace the season. As the late sunset casts its golden light through the oyster shells and beads, I am reminded that peace is something we build, nurture, and protect.
My heart often turns toward the future, imagining a return to the beloved South West, near Bristol or Bath. I picture a place where creativity is woven naturally into everyday life, where art is welcomed as a source of inspiration, connection, and beauty, and where the creative spirit can continue to grow alongside nature.
Thanks for reading