Portraits from Spirit
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The old Dorset village hall was bathed in sunlight as my friend Rosie and I walked up to the ancient scratched and kicked-in front door. Restless dogs, children and adults were queuing to get into the Summer Fayre. It was 1978 and I was on holiday with an old college friend caravanning in the quaint English village of Burton Bradstock. My friend was aware that the village always put on a good selection of homemade jams, cakes and locally grown vegetables just for a few pence to get into the hall, because this had been her favourite holiday haunt since she was a child.
It was August during the school summer holidays and hotter than usual that day. We were thirsty for the expected goodies beyond and, when we finally entered the hall through the old wooden doors, the evocative sweet smell of home cooked produce hit us together with a solid stream of people entering the hall. Just as we were surrounded by the hustle and bustle of milling people the sun, full strength at mid-day, blazing through an un-curtained window, hit my eyes, blinding me for a few moments, until all became clear again. As I stood for a while, my senses soaking up the atmosphere, my friend, interested in the pickles and veggies for dinner, sped off towards a crowded stall, I noticed a queue forming by the be-curtained village stage with a home-made sign saying; ’Have your palm read today... only a pound’! ‘Well why not’ I thought, ‘I’ve never had it done before and it can’t do any harm’.
I joined the queue with nervous anticipation not realising there would be about a forty minute wait in the hot stuffy hall. Rosie joined me, taking the same view that the palm reading would be a bit of fun. Never having come across anything like this before I was unsure of what to expect. At the time I was aware I saw unusual things but was not aware that it was the supernatural world and so did not categorise what was to happen as a serious paranormal event.
Eventually the stage side curtains opened and I was asked to climb onto the platform, through the velvet drapes and into a small room beyond. I turned to Rosie who smiled back and said, “Don’t be too long, I’ve got an ice cream waiting for me.” I could smell the dust from back-stage as I spread the curtains and walked onto the wooden boards. A slit of light from the door jamb of the side room was beckoning and, unusually for me, I began to feel nervous. The door creaked as I pushed it open. I entered a half lit room with dim light cascading through some well-worn and torn net curtains. A woman in black Victorian clothing was sitting behind a small table asking me to move forward and sit on an old wooden school chair. Her head was covered by a black veil and as she moved her hand towards mine I noticed the age spots and wrinkles on her hand…she was very old. “I can see from your hand that art will rule your life.”
This first comment threw me, how did she know I was an artist? I was visiting dressed just like any other person on holiday in shorts and tee-shirt, how could she see that? “You will show others what you know to the end of your life. You will teach not only art, but other subjects which are more esoteric, psychic and spiritual.” Another shock to my mind, how did she know I was a teacher? The reading continued as she spoke about emotional relationships, where I would live and the work I would do, most of which I can’t remember now. After about twenty minutes she let go of my hand, now very warm and clammy, and asked me to pay the person by the curtain. I was overwhelmed, the questions going through my mind were to do with mind reading, how could she know all these things, did she know someone I knew, how did she know what I did for a living?
Finding my way off the stage in the semi darkness I paid the elderly lady sitting like a guard, half in and half out of the stage curtain, allowing nobody to leave without paying. Rosie was waiting and enquired as to how the reading went before she took her chance with the unknown. I was so shocked I couldn’t speak. I suggested we discussed our readings when she came out. Very hot and confused I went to get an ice cream. The sun was hot and at its highest, but just being outside was a welcome relief. Sitting on a low stone wall, ice cream in hand, I pondered my apparent fate. How did she know just by looking at my hand I was an artist and art teacher? Where did she find the clues to my future life and destiny and what was all this psychic stuff about?
Rosie joined me a little while later to say that she was also fascinated by the reading she had just been given but she didn’t say much about the detail so I left it at that. As college friends we both came from families where mediumship and the paranormal were never discussed. That was our first experience of the mystical world of the supernatural, or so I thought. I had not considered the apparitions I saw as a child to be in the same league as to what had just happened. I had seen and spoken with the spirit world since I was a child, yet, in my innocence of such matters, I thought that I saw those visions and happenings because I was an artist and I also thought that all artists saw another world invisible to many. Although intrigued by the experience in Burton Bradstock, after the holiday I thought nothing of it. I did not make the connection between the spirit world I had experienced as a child and the message from the palmist-medium at that time, like waiting for a train - I had to wait for the connection to be made.
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About the Book
Is it possible for a deceased artist to paranormally impress so strongly upon a living artist that the living artist is able to create portraits of recognisable spirit faces, who the artist has never met, as evidence of an afterlife? This book relives the experiences of a girl, born in 1950 growing up in a Roman Catholic family in the city of Liverpool, who could see, hear and sense the world unknown and unseen by all around her, and, of how she begins to draw the portraits of the ghostly faces she saw and, in doing so, demonstrates a probability that life exists after death. Later her training as an artist gives her the ability to draw all that she sees in the supernatural world, and is invited to demonstrate spirit portraiture worldwide. This extraordinary ability provides insurmountable visual evidence that a spirit portrait of a person can be drawn post-mortem providing unmistakable proof that life could survive death. In this book, Ann Davies provides case study information regarding some of the many hundreds of drawings she has created of the deceased people she has never met, giving an enquiring relative or friend verbal evidence of who the portrait is, where they lived, what job they did and what illness or accident the sketched person may have passed to spirit with, providing the mediumistic evidence of who the person is. Portraits from Spirit concludes with teaching notes for the reader to use if they wish to develop and create this unique form of art for themselves and how the art can be exhibited in public galleries, on the internet and be shown to the public in a way it has never been done before. “A fascinating account of one psychic's development from fledgling medium to accredited psychic and spirit artist. This is a compelling read and a must for all who have an interest in mediumship and art.” Dorothy Davies, author, 'Death Be Pardoner To Me', the life of George, Duke of Clarence channelled from spirit.
About the Author
I have seen, heard and sensed the spirit world all my life, but, as a school teacher, Head of a large Art Department and Art Examiner, I had to hide my gift away from others in case I was ridiculed. However, as an artist, and medium between the world of spirit and the earth, I realised I could draw what I saw and experienced which I have now done thousands of times working publically as a spirit artist, lecturer of the paranormal arts and spiritualist medium. I have demonstrated my unique skills as a spirit artist at home in Great Britain as well as many countries abroad. The portraits I have produced, during the thirty years working publically, I have created, as evidence that there is an afterlife, on television, in theatres, church halls and privately, trying to give hope and comfort to many grieving for their loved ones. I have drawn and painted so many portraits worldwide, of the spirits of the deceased, as evidence that our spirit survives death, that I cannot count them, nor do I know who owns them since most were just given away. I was born in Liverpool and trained as an artist and school teacher in the late 1960’s just as the Beatles were becoming famous. Indeed, in the '80's I lived in the same road as John Lennon's Gran while I taught in the Toxteth area of the city. I loved working with the kids I taught in Liverpool but eventually, in 1989, I moved house to 3 miles away from where Tolkien wrote ‘Lord of the Rings’ in the Midlands of England where I was impressed to write this book. I am retired now from the chalk face and can speak freely about my spirit experiences and still endeavour to draw and paint the glorious visions I see to help others understand the world of the afterlife. Having seen so many wonderful spirit people and places in my life as an artist of the afterlife, my life’s purpose has been in recreating the world, invisible to most, for others who cannot see or experience the living world which exists after death.