I found this Winnie-the-Pooh clock box in one of my many scavenges through the charity shops and I just knew it was for me to try to upcycle it and paid 50p for it. I started to alter it many months ago and then, as so often happens, my desk disappeared under a pile of nonsense and my real life intervened - my project only recently re-emerged after an epic tidy - I am not known for these! So there I was, with the base all painted. I always knew I wanted to use my palmistry hand in the aperture, but beyond that, I really hadn't a clue. I'm happy with the end result although I wish now that I'd fancified the wings a little more ... they may yet have a second attempt. I've struggled to make art, both time and inspiration wise for long months now and its a relief to finally have managed to make something. Now .... its just a question of maintaining the momentum .... any ideas how to do that? I guess first and foremost, I need to keep my desk clear of all non-arty things and occasionally raise my gaze from the pages of a book! x
Thursday, 21 March 2013
MY DAD & DAVID BOWIE! This is my 86 year old Dad, Doug, at the preview night of the David Bowie Is ...exhibition at the Victoria & Albert Museum last night. He is standing in front of a group of photos of Bowie taken by the likes of Herb Ritts, Terry O'Neill and Helmut Newton. His photograph is the Black & White shot on the right top of the picture and it was taken in 1966. It is also included in the book celebrating Bowie's work. The picture came from 'Mr Bowie's Private Collection'. I'm starstruck! What few will know, is that most of the shots in the exhibition were taken in studio settings, where time and money were of no consequence. My Dad's pic, however, was taken in just 15 mins in the midst of Bowie's recording session at EMI. Now, I may be biased, but I guess that gives this shot an extra edge!
My Dad's stories of the people he's met and worked with are quite simply... endlessly entertaining and he now gives talks on the subject to groups and on cruise ships. It's lovely to see him honoured in such a fabulous way at this stage of his career... whatever next?
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
Hello World!
After almost a year in the crafting wilderness, I am finding my way back ... slowly, slowly and this bookmark is the result of my first play with paper and ink in all that time. How I have missed it... how I have missed you all... how lovely to be starting over with renewed enthusiasm. pen x
At the edge, where fingertips clutch, lies a landscape of immeasurable beauty. Beyond the reach of those yet to learn the lessons of endurance. Admittance lies at the end of grieving's path - the Architect - your own sweet soul.
This is the first time I've participated at Poet's United which is a community for poets who blog and which I have only just found. Their Thursday Think Tank #76 is The Soul's Whisper which brought to mind this poem which I wrote back in October. Poet's United can be found at http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com. I took the photograph of Chagall's stained glass windows at a church near Tonbridge when I visited with my lovely friend Janet. It's a tiny church with the most beautiful light and atmosphere.
Quietly, quietly in the background, while I have been playing at poetry, I have been beavering away at altering this Printer Tray. It measures 11.5 x 19 inches and is the largest art I've ever tackled. I started with great enthusiasm, then got stuck for a while, but kept at it. Kept filling the waste paper basket with disasters until the thrill of making it grabbed me all over again and then, suddenly, every aperture was filled and I could stop holding my breath, hoping it would all come together ... done.... Next!
You, who were never angry, seethed silently. You, who never raised your voice, screamed deafeningly. You, who never minded, objected strongly. You, who were gently disposed, knife-twisted artfully. You, who fed us all, poisoned. You, who had endless patience, were always too busy. You, who were so attentive, failed to notice.
('Mother & Child', oil painting by Andrea Tyrimos, www.andreatyrimos.com) I would like to thank the artist for her kind permission to use her beautiful painting. You are most generous Andrea.
(I found this poem recently. It was written back in October '06 when I wrote on scraps and discarded them or tucked them into pages of books to be rediscovered later. I've no memory of writing it and even wondered if it might not have been mine. So uncertain was I, that I searched the internet but without success. And so, happily, I lay claim to this poem. If anyone knows differently, please do let me know!) I think it sounds like mine. What do you think?
I am the figure naked crouching face turned toward the wall. Sad eyes cast downward, tear fringed lashes. Bones, too big for my paper thin skin to contain. An open wound weeping. I am named shame.
[Photo courtesy of wikimedia. Photographer: Tatiana Sapeteiro of Brazil]
You were the shifting sands beneath me. Unable to gain purchase I faltered and thrashed wildly believing that you would solidify and save me from going under.
(Photo courtesy of Flickr. Photoshopped by my son Rowan)
In the arms of the Seamstress he came undone. His starched collar, in need of stiffening, he abandoned himself to her ministrations while she unpicked his selvage edges, relieving his tension, all the while gathering his stitches to weave into her counterpane made entirely of his remnants.
Here's one I wrote earlier .... and an old atc to accompany it....
THE BEEKEEPER The Beekeeper and I keep our secret conversations light, polite and mostly avoidant of the memories we two share of the honey we made together and how it's sweetness was a passing luxury, quite aware that the inferior versions we settled for will never equal our own peculiar brand.
I bought this box frame in a charity shop for 75p and had a great time altering it. Painted it with acrylics and Lumiere paint. Decorated with spacings from an old bracelet and stamped the inserts. I'm going to try something similar on a bigger scale next. The triffid in the background is a cutting I took from a plant I was given when my daughter was born - she will be 27 in December. This Sweetheart plant just goes on for miles and forever it seems.
Lovely Jo of Fiddlesnips asked if they were inchies in the box - they aren't Jo but, they could've been. Now I need to scavenge to find more of these boxes to put my inchies in as its a great idea! x
The bombsite beckoned daily as I hung over the iron railings dividing our worlds, and watched as you clambered among the debris. A skeleton building whose ragged walls pointed upwards accusingly. Territory forbidden due to unforseen dangers I longed to explore. It was, however, imperative that I remained housebound to save my skinny knees from grazing or scuffing of my white T-bar sandals or, heaven forbid, from unexploded joy. You were older and not female and therefore, inevitably, free of the need to be careful.
In order to spare myself, I refrain from morbid curiosity. I turn away from fascinations which torment me with their nightly callings. Perched precariously on the most slender of branches, my eyes turn heavenward in case I should suddenly need to take evasive flight, thus neatly avoiding the harsh reality that yours was a predatory shadow cast over my life.
I am not fond of Enforced jollity. Jokes hang in the air With their expectant pause - The space where I am supposed to laugh now. My laughter, usually throaty & infectious regularly rises unbidden in inappropriate circumstances, lies stifled and unresponsive to humour that harbours an anticipated outcome. Sadly, your comedic efforts were wasted on me - your captive audience of one.
Found this tattered frame in a charity shop and added my own art. More bugs and butterflies to add to my collection. My home has begun to resemble a museum!
I got the inspiration for upcycling this wooden box which originally contained 4 jigsaws after seeing the beautiful cover of the Craft Stamper in July created by Katy Fox. Around the same time I watched the film 'Creation' about Charles Darwin and the route he took to develop his theory. It got me thinking about the wonders of our flora and fauna and this bug related piece was the result. I hadn't crafted for a while and it felt wonderful to work on a larger than usual piece. Many thanks to my dear friend Sue for the loan of her beautiful stamps which fed my sudden passion for all things insect.
She came with a warning label. Tattered and tied with rasping twine that you, wearing your best emotional mittens found unfathomable as your eyes unwittingly whispered 'come hither' and invited her in & to ride roughshod across your heart.
Buddha sits at the doorway to my greenhouse ... my favourite place to be. At his feet sit home grown parsley, coriander, sweet peas and tomatoes. The greenhouse is filled with more tomatoes and cucumber plants which seem as tho' they love it here as much as I do! We have an abundance of both. Buddhas arms are filled with Philadelphus blossoms - my offerings - my way of saying thank you.
My very good friend Jayne and I were talking about writing a few days ago and she commented that the way I write is very similar to the way I text ... erm, economic!
This came to me shortly afterwards ....
PUZZLED You were the one, or so I thought. But you were cross And I was nought.
Lovely Jo at Fiddlesnips posted about her darling dog Rosie-Mae. (You will find her on my sidebar and I would urge you to go and visit). Jo's post prompted me to write about the newest edition to our animal family. This little sweety is Ripley when he first came home with us. As cute as a button and sadly .... neurotic as they come. He is still with us and I now adore him, but, it has been a long hard road for us all.
Poor Ripley came to us straight from the breeder in Oxford. He arrived, terrified of being brushed and of people sneezing (but, not of the shooters shooting their guns!). He didn't listen to a word we said, despite taking him to training classes, reading all the books and getting all the advice we could. He was very obedient when it came to commands, but, a law unto himself. The trainer described him as 'super-intelligent but sly' (which I didn't like!) and, she bred Border Collies.
We got through the puppy stage by the skin of our teeth and with me on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Walking him was a nightmare. He was aggressive to other dogs, bit a man who's dog had attacked him, hassled our other dog who was elderly and turned on our two cats. I was, honestly, at the point of giving up on him and I'm really not a quitter.
One day, in desparation I spoke to the trainer who told me he needed to see a Dog Behaviourist and she gave me the number of Robert Alleyne who appeared in the tv series 'Dog Borstal'. He, she told me, would be able to help but if not, the dog would have to be destroyed.
Rob came and spent four hours here with us questioning us about Ripley's behaviour and ours! He was a lovely, charming man with a really down to earth approach. He encouraged me to have the confidence in the dog which I'd lost and to buy a remote control collar which delivers a puff of compressed air when the dog is doing something we'd rather he didn't. This was pretty often pre-collar! He'd eat horses poo, chase cars, chase cyclists, joggers, horses - the list goes on. I was so stressed and so distressed at the idea of having to have him destroyed. Robs visit and the collar, which I've hardly had to use have made such a difference.
Ripley is now a happy dog, who looks to me (or Rowan) to check if his behaviour is acceptable or not. He knows now that he is ours and we, are his. He gets it! Finally and, not a moment too soon. He is a pleasure to walk now and has gained confidence in us and in himself and we, equally, respect that he will seize each opportunity to succeed that we present him with. It is still, early days but I am confident that, with our continued training, we can provide him with the best home for him. He is sweet natured, gentle, loyal and funny and I am no longer a frazzled, half scared to death dog owner and I'm looking forward to our lives together. Until recently, I never thought I'd be saying that.
My instincts told me you were Damaged Goods. Ignoring my own advice my heart leaned in and listened, intently, for the rhythms of your hidden depths. Murky and indistinct though they were I heard the soft beats of compassion, love and loyalty. Believing we could, together, nurture ripples that would flourish I dived in a graceful arc and waited. But, you never braved the depths preferring to tread water at the shallow end. Shivering, you left the pool, your water wings deflated.
I haven't used this Echinacea flower stamp before despite it being one of my favourite images. I had more messy fun making this as it was a combination of distress inks, water, paint and holographic embossing powder. Everything,including me got a good drenching plus I went to bed covered in glitter. I felt like Fairy Tinkerbell.
I was scratching around late last night looking for inspiration and found Trish Latimer's article on creating backgrounds using salt in a Craft Stamper magazine. I had to improvise a bit and really enjoyed using some products I haven't handled in a while. The background strip on the right was made using Colour Washes and Glimmer Mists which I then sprinkled with rock salt and dried overnight. I was delighted with the textured finish the salt created. I got in a real mess ... my favourite kind of technique!
You are a matter which cannot be ignored, put off until later, delayed until the time is right. There is no wrong which cannot be undone by the call of your skin luring me to place my fingers gently upon the cool landscape of your years where rivulets have run and tributaries formed. Where, for my part, there is no fraction with which I am unfamiliar, that I have not traced in my efforts to know you inside and out. And now, now that I know enough of you to be certain, that there is no other skin upon this earth which calls to me as does your own, I wander its expanses as if in banishment, seeking the wound which will admit me to your inner reaches.
As I headed for my bed last night, a piece of paper with a circle cut out caught my eye and this was what I had to turn it into before I could retire. So much happier to be crafting again even if at inappropriate moments.
I will throw you a rope. Rescue you. Provide you a future and Charm your existence He promised. She trusted, tentatively Having heard such promises Previously And watched As the dust of them Drifted from Her fingers. Eventually She softened Her centre And trusted. Reaching for his Proffered Lifebelt Little suspecting It harboured A Slow Puncture.
I had some further adventures with the distress reinkers to create this background in the same style as my previous post. The stamp of the little girl in the butterfly dress is one I've had for a long time but never used. I love the look on her face ... I think she's a tomboy who'd be much happier out playing with the boys than in this fanciful little number.
I had fun playing about with distress reinkers and watercolour paper. All very uncontrolled, but I really like the way it turned out. A beautifully messy, random technique. Just how I like them!
These pictures are of a bunch of stuff around our house. The skull is not used for satanic rituals but stands guard over the fridge door to keep the pup out!
I had great fun making my flower girl. Mind you, its just nice to make something positive rather than just a hash of things sometimes isn't it! The background is white embossed with a mixture of distress inks that have been spritzed. The watercolour paper just soaks it up The hydrangea flowers I'd saved out of my garden and pressed last year. They are a lovely shade of sepia. (I'm having a happy day - I have now lost two stone since Xmas! SkinnyMiniMe ... not quite!)
She was a gatherer of strays. Man or beast She did not discriminate. Sadly. She took them in, tamed their wild ways, calmed their restless natures, taught them manners And removed unwanted hairs from her pillow without complaint. She was devoted, even in the face of disappointment. Stalwart & loyal as they let their training slip and their animal natures re-surface. When they would wander she would bring them home from unfamililar doorways. She would not admonish them. It was enough that she was displeased. No need for leash or halter. She was mistress. They would, in time, be house-trained when promptly they would find themselves re-homed.
Our writing theme a couple of weeks ago was the colour Purple. This is my effort on the subject:
The Rules
Purple leaves her cold. It is not her colour Because of her hair Having the tendency To clash Which might Draw attention. Most of it Unwanted.
She may wear blue, or sometimes green, but never together. It is unseemly without a colour in between. Or so, She is told.
Pink is also disallowed. It makes her skin look sallow. Allegedly. A colour clamouring for grown-up status Beyond the nursery walls. Mutton, dressing as lamb? She hardly thinks so!
Red will not be tolerated. The colour of blood and of passion, it is, therefore, Highly Dangerous. Particularly when paired with golden earrings. Especially if they should dangle, Tantalisingly. Someone might mistake her for a gypsy.
Orange is too bold and brash, Reminiscent of places foreign and exotic. Not fo her then. She who is not allowed to emerge from under her bushel in case She should be noticed.
These are the rules. Make no mistake. Consequently, Her favourite colour is taupe. Her wardrobe proffers every conceivable shade of black. Very fitting For sombre occasions. Mostly funerals. Where finally She'll get a chance To
Cut A Dash.
