Art for the Soul

I've been painting as long as I can remember and don't intend to stop anytime soon.

Here are some of my favourite pieces from the last few years.

Enjoy!

Life Is Yours - Chapter One

Abi Yardimci's up and coming debut novel

Jess has life sorted. That is until her fiance makes a sharp exit and she must learn how to turn a crisis into something magical. 
 
Jess has life sorted. With friends all around her, an adoring fiance and a successful business under her belt, who could ask for more? But all that is whipped out from under her when the fiance decides to make a sharp exit on New Year's Eve. Therein follows the Week From Hell, eternally streaked mascara and Chardonnay a-plenty.

But Jess is on a path. It has a million detours and a lot of stubbed toes, but it is a path none-the-less. On an otherwise boring business course she discovers what she really wants. In strange new friendships she takes part in a series of seemingly crazy challenges. And finally, on a last minute holiday to Turkey she finds peace and a whole new rhythm to her heart. A rhythm that is only just getting going . . .

Chapter One

She could hear her mother’s voice catching against the night wind. It was growing fainter and fainter with every step. And so she kept on walking.

The beach was cool and calm. The moon cast a stream of white light which she followed through silent tears. She wiped her hair off her cheeks and concentrated on sinking her bare feet into the sand. She carried on like this for a while. Moon, feet, hair, tears. Moon, feet, hair, tears. Until – dredging it up from somewhere - she took a deep breath and stopped. 

What the hell am I doing here? Lindy felt like screaming it. Hoping somebody might hear and give her a decent answer. But the moon and the sea and the night gazed back at her with the nothingness she’d grown accustomed to.

She asked herself again, what the hell am I doing here? She repeated it like a little mantra in her head until it was interrupted by the memory of her mother’s pleading voice the day it had all happened. “Come on sweetheart. You must have known something was wrong. All the signs were there.” What a thing to say, Lindy thought. As far as she was concerned there had been absolutely no signs at all. Nothing. Zilch. No way she could have anticipated what would happen.

She looked back in the direction of the apartment block and saw that the lights in her parents’ apartment had been switched off. They’ve gone out then, she thought. So much for New Year not being complete without their only daughter. A well-timed comment from her dad about a nice glass of chardonnay and a double-helping of baklava, would have been enough for her mother to snatch up her handbag and stalk off down to the restaurant complex like Holidaymaker of the Year.

Sighing from the pit of her stomach she wondered why in god’s name she’d come on holiday with her parents. I mean, look at her credentials. She was twenty nine years old. Popular. Attractive. Successful. Yet it was New Year’s Eve and she was standing all alone on a cold, deserted beach in the South of Turkey. Shoulders hunched in a thick, red woolly jumper she’d had since she was twelve, legs shivering in faded black tracksuit bottoms and hands grasping her dangling trainers by the laces with chalky white knuckles. Her parents had gone out without her and she was alone. Alone at a time when you are supposed to be with people. Alone at a time when you are supposed to be tipping back all manner of drinks, talking about all manner of things, and making all manner of plans for your bright and promising future.

She started to walk again. As she walked further along the beach and into the calm of the night, the lights behind her grew dimmer and the image she had of her parents sitting smugly together slowly faded away.

Lindy knew deep down that her foul mood had nothing to do with them. She knew that their offer to take her on holiday was born out of a love they didn’t know how else to express. But how was she supposed to get out of this one herself? Things were a real mess. She wanted to make things better but was petrified of coming out of this world where you could cry and scream and rant and nobody expected you to be normal yet. Not yet.

It was then that she looked up and saw a deep orange glow close to the lapping shore. There was a tiny fire burning in a kind of rocky alcove up ahead and it carried the scent of charred wood across the beach to where she stood. It looked like somebody had got it going and then abandoned it - probably in favour of a good night out. She looked around and, because the beach was empty apart from a few couples off in the distance, she decided that the fire definitely did not belong to anybody anymore and therefore she could claim it.

She reached the alcove, sat down and breathed in the heady smell of the charcoal. She found a stick to poke the fire with (because that’s what you did with fires, you poked them with a stick), and for the first time that evening, Lindy took in her surroundings. Sea lapping, stars twinkling, breeze blowing, fire burning and the sky blanketing her softly. Perhaps this night would be ok after all.

Staring into the fire, she slipped into a kind of numbness. Her breathing evened out and her tears dried like sugar glaze on her cheeks. In her mind she saw one of those sliding plastic puzzles you get in your stocking at Christmas as a child. All the pieces were definitely there, but they were always arranged in the wrong order so the final picture never made any sense. Every time this meant the pieces had to be pulled apart and mixed up again, ready for the next attempt.

Suddenly the orange flames jumped and sparks flew sharply across the hot rocks. Lindy snapped out of her trance and looked up to see the dark silhouette of a girl standing over her. Or rather a young woman. And she had just thrown some wood onto the fire. She crouched down, edging into the light of the fire and smiled, her rounded face already glowing. “So you found my fire? I wondered if somebody would.”