
Jackie Morris is an artist, illustrator and writer based in Wales. She has created many enchanting books, from fantastical adventures for children to wild folk tales for grown ups. Along with celebrated nature writer Robert Macfarlane, Jackie Morris Co-created The Lost Words (and its companion Lost Spells and Spell Songs), which has become a touchstone phenomena in British publishing for its celebration of wildlife, its consolation for the plight of nature in the UK, and for it’s rallying call to everyone and anyone to engage or re-engage with the natural world.
The Book of Birds is the newest collaborative title from Jackie Morris and Robert Macfarlane, released early this Summer as many of the species included in the book will be hopefully re-establishing nests and singing their songs among us. We’re thrilled that Jackie kindly took time to talk with us about this project ahead of the books release in May!
Are there particular books that have been important to you in your life, that have inspired your passion for, and celebration of, the natural world?
The main book that has lived a life with me is the Reader’s Digest Book of British Birds. It was published in 1969 I think, and these books (Reader’s Digest) were bought on subscription via a mail order catalogue. Iconic. I know it lives with and has inspired so many others. A tawny owl on the cover and no title or author names as it was co-created by so many people (almost but not quite 100% white men, Raymond Harris Ching being one of the foremost illustrators. And, I must confess, in the 56 years it has lived with me I have only ever read the pictures. But how I have read them. Taking in the shape of each bird deep into the eye of the soul.
As a child I copied the paintings, in crayon, then later in paint, learning the shapes and the English names of the birds, but even then understanding that these were not ‘British’ birds. For how can a cuckoo, who spends her life in so many other skies, be claimed by any nation? Is this why I love birds? They were my first realisation that humans are surrounded by other lives, equally as important as our own.
We had few other books in the house, but I did have a tiny Observer’s Book of Wild Flowers, bought with birthday money, for when we went on holiday to Torcross in Devon so I could learn the names of the flowers that grew there. I didn’t read that one either, but now love the language of these tiny classics. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to read, it was simply that I found reading so hard and incomprehensible, where as images were so perfect, accessible, easy to read. I did learn to read, but was slow to catch the way of it all.

The Book of Birds marks your fourth collaboration with celebrated nature writer Robert Macfarlane after the monumental The Lost Words and its subsequent Spell Songs, and the magical pocket-sized follow up The Lost Spells. Could you tell us more about how the collaboration between you and Robert began, and how the process looked working together on this new book?
The Lost Words grew from a few springs before it became a river. In Landmarks, Robert had talked of the dropping of words from a major educational dictionary as far back as 2007. This was picked up by Laurence Rose, a poet, who, like many, knew the power of language. He asked if I would sign an open letter to the dictionary’s publisher and willingly I did. This seeded an idea to make an illustrated slide show for The Guardian online, making these lost words into the central focus, to try to make them live again. But, the idea of a book of them wouldn’t go away. My idea was simple. Just the dictionary definition set in the way dictionary type is, a gold leaf icon, and I wrote to Robert, who I had only met through reading The Wild Places to ask if he might write a foreword. I had a reply. He was very sorry he said. He was busy he said, but he wished me luck with the idea. And he said lovely things about my work: he is very polite.
So, I got on with work. I had six books on contract at the time and was working my way through, writing The Quiet Music of Gently Falling Snow, illustrating another. A few weeks later an email came from Rob saying he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. Would I consider working on a children’s book with him around the idea, and I said, ‘not really’. I don’t want to do a children’s book, but a book ‘for people’ of all ages. So we talked, we passed ideas back and forwards, we wrote a proposal and Rob took it to his publishers and I think on the same day we had a resounding ‘yes please’. I was at Druidstone Hotel at the time, working on a short text (One Cheetah, One Cherry – very much a book for young children) and I remember the feeling of mild panic. Because now we had to do this thing.
Each book has been different. Each one a collaborative weaving of word and image. Birds is the third book in a curious series. Although there are two names on the covers there is a whole team of people behind these books, from our publisher and agent, editors and designers (Alison O’Toole designed Lost Words and Lost Spells, Daniel Streat designed The Book of Birds). Publishing is a collaborative experience that includes the book sellers and the readers. It is an ecosystem.
With birds, which took seven years, there was a constant dialogue between myself and Rob, responding to how we felt about, thought about each bird, each wonder. Then Rob would weave the words as a bird weaves a nest, and some came easier than others and likewise with the images.
I painted the 49 birds first and then had to tackle how to depict the wonders to wind poetry and awe into the images. The wonders are painted on claybord using shell gold. This change of visual pace gives the eye a breathing space, I hope, and sings a gentle song of wonder to accompany the beautiful words.

What formed the basis of the criteria for the 49 species chosen to feature in The Book of Birds?
Most of the 49 species were on the red and amber list when we first began the book. Because it took so long some birds moved off, others moved on, so there was negotiation with loss and each other.
In this new book, bird species are presented along with illustrations of their eggs. Were there particular species you enjoyed exploring for this project, or species who presented a challenge?
We are so lucky with our publisher. Not only did they understand as about seven deadlines whistled in flight past our ears, they also embraced things like, just as I finished the last painting, me phoning them to say ‘I’ve just had this idea. I think it’s brilliant, but it means I have to paint another 49 paintings. Hope that is ok. Shouldn’t take long.’ (This was the eggs that sit on each birds’ title page.)
Every single painting was a challenge, no more so than the simplicity of the perfect form of egg. When people say ‘you are so talented’ it grates a little. Every artist spends years learning how to master their chosen medium, struggling to learn the shape of things and how to communicate without words. Each blank page is such a challenge. But for The book of Birds, well, I just care so very much about these creatures. I am aware that I stand in the shadow of such great artists, from Tunnicliffe to Elizabeth Gould. They really knew and understood the shape of the bird. I am a beginner by their standards, but, when I paint what I am trying to do is to somehow show a glimpse of the soul of the creature, tree, seed, egg- whoever it is. I chase the essence. I always feel that I fall short of my ambitions but I guess this is what keeps me going. If birds did not matter so much to me maybe it would have been easier work for seven years, but nothing worth doing is easy, and embedding love, loss and a praise song into each and every piece is what I aimed to do. Each one is a prayer for the bird.

There is a serious plight acting as a catalyst for works like The Lost Words and The Book of Birds, namely the catastrophic decline of species, from both language and landscape. Could you tell us more about the role you feel art has in inspiring change, and integrating with science on these issues?
Art and science are integral to each other and both are seeded in the imagination. Music winds through this also and can thread ideas so deep in memory. It felt for a while that humans were making some headway at last after centuries of colonial degradation of species, environment. Rivers gaining rights, spokes people for forests and legal rights for forests and rivers. And then the world turned… It feels as if the world is in turmoil, but these are the very times when artists really need to go to work, to challenge, to try to find new ways forward, to imagine a better way to be. It’s hard to even think about in the chaos of today.
I am a pacifist. I am trying to understand the answer to this question myself, so if this seems a muddled and unsatisfactory answer then I can only offer up The Book of Birds as my answer for a reader to decide for themselves.
I wonder if you could tell us about what is next for you, if there’s any future projects you can share about?
I did threaten to retire after finishing The Book of Birds. But then I thought, well, in my retirement I might paint, or write a book.
Robert and I are, now and again, speaking of the seed of a new idea. It is slow to germinate as both of us are so busy, but I hope it will take root and grow. Meanwhile I am working on a new book with Hamish Hamilton, a small companion to the birds, perhaps an allegory, still very much feather related, and incubating at the moment. Also I am working with Tamsin Abbott who illustrated Wild Folk, a book I wrote and she illuminated with gorgeous pieces of glass. Our next book is coming together. Both working relationships are about friendship.

The Book of Birds:
A Field Guide to Wonder and Loss
Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris
£35.00
Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris
£20.00
Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris
£14.99
Jackie Morris and Robert Macfarlane
£14.99


























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