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Toni Cogdell

Path of the Dream Walker

"I grew up dreaming. Armed with paintbrushes, sketchbooks and an ocean-deep heart I stepped onto the path of Art and walked in the direction of my dreams, knowing it wasn't an easy route I had chosen, but the only one that will lead me home.

Working and living in Bristol, in the South West of England, I spend my days painting in a woodland studio under the watchful gaze of squirrel, deer and a myriad of forest dwellers.

I have always had a passion for painting figuratively, seeking to convey emotion and spirit through the human form. The natural world with the legends and archetypes our earth is steeped in provides an endless source of inspiration for me.

Painting isn't something I do; it's more a case of who I am. My first language, my truest love, whether drawing, or painting in oils, acrylics or watercolour I seek to tell my story, your story and the ancient stories Gaia whispers to the trees."

Toni has been a member of Enchanted Folk since September 2007

members.enchantedfolk.com/elfin-grrl

Finding Our Place

Tue, Jun 30, 2009

What is it that compels me to spend every spare waking hour here. Poised in front of a canvas, or curled around a piece of paper, painting and making marks as if my life, my entire existence depended on it. (I actually believe it does.) What is it that follows me as I drift into sleep, whispering stories and composing scenes in my mind that stay with me as I wake, then taking me by the hand, sometimes with force, and leading me back to the studio to learn how to speak them out loud?

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The Gathering, The Unfolding….

Wed, Sep 30, 2009

I hold my breath. There's a distant drumming echoing around the edge of my consciousness, unable to decipher whether it's my own heart or the beat of another place and time entirely I let it flow on regardless.

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The Haunting of Flight Feathers

Wed, Dec 30, 2009

Only the sporadic sound of twigs underfoot suggests someone is there. If not for the slight swaying of a branch or the twisting of a leaf her presence would remain unannounced.

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The Green Man

Tue, Mar 30, 2010

The silence is so profound it seems to have taken on a form of its own, creeping and stalking its way through the forest, feral and wild. Birdsong has faded, the air now only carrying the stillness of birds; creatures have stopped abruptly in their tracks, tasks at hand forgotten, even the breeze has been distracted from pushing branches back and forth in a game of tug-o-war. The silence that remains is deafening and thick with expectancy. Something is about to happen.

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