A Finished Spread

I have completed a spread in my journal. The journal is an A5 one which is much easier to deal with than an A4. This, again, is part of my online workshop with Suzi Blu. I’ve really enjoyed doing it. It is done with coloured pencil, acrylic paints, collage and text.

The text was done with a silver pen, which had a thicker nib than I thought, it reads:

‘There is in every true woman’s heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity, but which kindles up and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.’ (Washington Irving)

Portraits (Of the Pretty Variety)

I am currently doing a Suzi Blu online workshop (The Goddess and the Poet) for creating ‘pretty’ faces. Eventually I will do one mounted on wood. These are the faces I’ve done so far.

We started off just using pencil and then graduated to coloured pencil. I haven’t worked just in pencil for a long, long time. I’m not very comfortable with coloured pencils and finding it challenging – but that’s why I’m doing it; to learn something new. I’m enjoying the course (I’m only up to Lesson 2 of 5) and the finished article will have embellishments and text. There is some stunning work being produced by the students.

We are working in our journals towards an end piece mounted on wood.

In Praise of the Humble Fig

Summer’s bounty.
The tree is small – kept small for ease of picking -
The leaves are large and biblical.
Fruit hanging like heavy teardrops,
Purplish-brown or is that brownish-purple?

Feel the fruit.
It must be soft, the skins sometimes split.
White, milky sap leaks from the stalk,
With poisonous connotations.
Sticky! A stickiness that only soap can remove.

Luscious fruit; the insides pink and juicy.
Tiny pips embedded in the flesh.
Six are ripe.
I eat them all, I eat everything,
Save for the sappy stalks.

Tomorrow there will be more.

An Imaginary Room

I visited the Wandering the Halls of Soul Food page and found the prompt – Claiming Nooks at Soul Food.  This got me to thinking what my sacred space would be like if I started from scratch.

The room would be about ten feet square. Not too large nor too small. It would be positioned in the NE corner of the house allowing me plenty of light and air from windows in two walls. I’d have adjustable, wooden louvre shutters on the outside for protection from noise and weather – particularly the bone-searing summer sun.

The walls would be painted in a cool colour. A shade of either lilac, turquoise or blue, or maybe all three. Life’s too short for beige!! The floor would be tiled. I’m all for ease of cleaning, and you can get paint off a tile floor; you have more trouble getting it out of carpet. I like hard floors, and tile rather than wood. Wood scratches. I live in a ’sandy soil’ place and it blows and tracks in constantly, and you can never get it all out of carpet.

I would have ONE large, comfortable chair; one that I can curl up in. I’m not very tall and find that chairs were not designed with me in mind. I can’t slouch in a chair and if I put my feet on the floor my back is nowhere near the back of the chair. If I sit back in a chair, my legs stick out like barrow handles. Therefore, I have to have a chair which will accommodate my legs as well.

There would be two (at least) bookcases. One for fiction and one for non-fiction. An adjustable lamp with a decent wattage globe. I find that I need more light on things these days to make reading easier. That’s the one thing that bugs me about getting older – my eyesight is not what it was and I need glasses to read these days, and to watch TV. Sometimes a pair of glasses would be good in order to look for my glasses!

A trestle table would hold my arty-farty stuff (some of it, anyway). I suppose a cupboard would be good, too, to store the overflow. I’d keep my sewing machine in there too.

A clock! Yes, definitely a clock. Not because I’m preoccupied with time – I haven’t worn a watch in years – but for the soothing sound of a ticking clock. None of your digital rubbish. I want a proper clock with cogs and springs. Possibly one that chimes gently on the hour. It resonates with times gone by when life was less rushed.

I think I might like one of those table water features too. Something tasteful, not tacky. The sound of water trickling is very relaxing – provided you don’t have a full bladder!

A large cork-board is a necessity for displaying items of interest, which would change frequently, and notes to myself. Something else which is useful now too.

One wall would display the works of art by my children and grandchildren. I have some lovely pieces they’ve given me from time to time. Some framed ones are on the wall and unframed ones are displayed on the fridge. The latest one is a red scribble by Lincoln, aged two.

My Buddha collection would be displayed on a shelf. It’s not a huge collection, and will get no bigger. Only eleven and one is too big for a shelf, so only ten would go in there. I have a Quan Yin which would also go into the room.

Oh, yes. An adjustable office chair to use at the table. Maybe a small rug, but I’m not sure about that. No phone; no radio.

The finishing touch would be a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign to hang on the door.

Where I Lived

I spent the formative years of my life living on council estates (public housing). They were good years, and my family was the same as most of the others around us living in post-war Britain. Not a lot of money, but lots of other kids to play with and plenty of love.

I think the African saying, ‘It takes a village to raise a child’, fits the bill perfectly. Everyone knew who you were, and who your parents were, and if you were up to something they got to find out pretty fast – often before you even got home after doing whatever it was you were doing. Nobody had a phone back then, so it was all jungle-drum stuff. We were frequently amazed that they knew what they knew. Of course, they didn’t know most of what we got up to until we were adults and told them.

When I went back to UK in 1979 on holiday from Australia, I was standing at the bus-stop and a lady waiting for the bus said, ‘You’re Ethel’s daughter, aren’t you? How’s your mum?’ We’d moved from the immediate neighbourhood in 1956! Mum and dad had also moved out to Australia in 1976.

People lived in the same house all their lives and didn’t move around a lot like they do today, and everyone’s mum stayed home to look after them all. I can’t remember any of the married women going out to work. Apparently a lot of the women did work during the war, my mum included, but this was to keep things running, as all the men were away. Families were bigger back then and it was a full-time job looking after them. My friend’s mum was still in the same house when she died last year at the age of 96. It no longer belonged to the council as she’d bought it when the opportunity arose, but she’d lived there ever since she got married.

My dad worked for his father in a small, family-run paint manufacturing business, along with his younger brother. Mum told me that they wanted to emigrate to Patagonia or New Zealand after the war but were prevented from doing so by my dad’s parents. The carrot of the business becoming dad’s when my grandfather retired was dangled, but that proved to be more of a liability than anything else. There was very little love lost in the relationship. My paternal grandfather was not a nice man. This was the reason why they never asked me not to emigrate to Australia, although they didn’t want me to leave. I only found this out years later when mum told me about wanting to go to New Zealand.

The people who made up my world were my parents, my siblings and my godparents who lived next door. Plus, of course, the friends and neighbours. My oldest friend, of sixty years, is from my childhood. There is half a world between us but when we do meet, we pick up as if we saw one another only yesterday.

When I was about ten years old we did a house swap and moved to Strelley, which was a different neighbourhood. I found this move quite traumatic. I didn’t have to change schools, so I didn’t have to make new friends there, and it didn’t take me long to make friends in the new neighbourhood either. It was just the thoughts of leaving everything familiar behind. I spent every weekend back in my old neighbourhood anyway. I would ride my bike and stay with my godparents, Aunty and Jim.

Life’s Teachers

This was inspired by Heather’s piece on The Arches – Source of Wonderment

‘Everyone and everything around you is your teacher’ Ken Keyes Jr – Handbook for Higher Conciousness

My first teachers were, of course, my parents. I was the youngest girl in the family. I had two older brothers, two older sisters and two younger brothers. Seven of us spread over a twenty year period. Besides lots of love, the most important thing they taught me/us was how to laugh. My whole family has a wacky sense of humour, and our kids are all carrying on the tradition. For example, my youngest son, Sam, was asked at work if he was Pete’s brother. Both sons and my husband work in the construction industry, but not for the same companies or on the same sites. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘did you recognise the name?’ ‘No,’ said the bloke, ‘you’ve got the same sense of humour!’ Think Monty Python, The Young Ones, Little Britain, The Mighty Boosh etc. We all find much in life to amuse us.

My mother taught me how to cook and gave me a love of gardening and books. I have her hands, with the curved ring finger, and when I look in the mirror these days she’s staring back at me. Mum was the practical one and the one who meted out the discipline. We got a smacked bottom on occasions, but we’d always earned it and we were given three warnings first. It was a smack too. Not a thrashing. She never hit us in a temper and it was always the end of the matter once the punishment had been given. We were friends again immediately. Dad, on the other hand never smacked us, but he would go on for days about things, which was much worse. I often thought to myself, ‘I wish he would just smack us and get it over with.’

Dad was the one who gave us poetry, art and literature and a love of the English language. He would always pull us up if we didn’t speak grammatically. Of course we didn’t bother about grammar when we were with our friends, but we were all good at English at school, due to his insistence on speaking properly.

He would read to us every night. When we were little it was tales of Rupert Bear and Thomas the Tank Engine, and the poems from When We Were Very Young and Now We Are Six, by AA Milne. I can still recite my favourites. As we got older, the quotes would be from Shakespeare and other poets that he enjoyed. He would take us to the theatre to see The Mikado. Those songs are still imprinted on my brain, too.

For my tenth birthday Mum took me to the cinema (we called it ‘the pictures’) to see The King and I with Yul Brynner. I loved it. It was the first grown-up kind of movie I’d seen. We went to the cinema most weeks to the Saturday Matinee, but that was mostly Flash Gordon and cartoony stuff. Dad took me to see The Dam Busters, which I also enjoyed but I think that was in black and white. The King and I was in colour!!!

On Sundays we would climb into the Austin Ruby and go into Derbyshire to commune with nature. There were obligatory songs to be sung on any car trip, and always at the top of our voices – ‘She Wore Red Feathers and a Hula Hula Skirt, was one (Guy Mitchell). Another one began with ‘Over the mountain, over the sea, that’s where my heart is longing to be. Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the one I love.’ – (I See the Moon – The Stargazers) Another began, ‘She had a dark and roving eye-eye-eye, and her hair hung down in ring-a-lets. She was a nice girl, a proper girl, but…….. one of the roving kind.’ (Guy Mitchell was the singer)

At various times of the year we collected bluebells and cowslips; tiny wild strawberries; blackberries; conkers and beechnuts. Sometimes we would stop at a cafe and have a bacon roll for breakfast, but this was the exception rather than the rule. Sandwiches and bottles of water were taken from home to see us through the day. A cardboard box was kept in the boot of the car, containing a little meths. stove, cups, spoons and tea and sugar. Milk was taken with us on the day. Tea was made when we reached our destination. It was all part of the day out.

Looking back, they must have made sacrifices to give us those treats, because we were not well off. There were times when cardboard covered the holes in our shoes. Fortunately, they thought that nourishing the soul was just as important as nourishing the body.

Happy memories!

Where Was I?

(‘Wandering the Halls of Soul Food’ prompt – I remember where I was……)

There are events that happen in everyone’s life when they can say exactly where they were and what they were doing. Some are personal things and some are things for the collective conciousness. Sometimes the event is huge, but you have no idea where you were.

I was at school when Kennedy was shot. It was a Friday and I had gone to my sister’s for my lunch. When I arrived she had tears running down her face. I asked what was wrong and she said, ‘President Kennedy has been shot.’ I don’t remember it affecting me in the same way. I was sixteen and didn’t have a lot of interest in world affairs. I liked the man and thought it was a sad thing to have happened, but I wasn’t moved to tears. My sister was twenty-four at the time.

The moon landing is something which should have registered as a momentous occasion, but I have absolutely no idea where I was when that happened.  I remember watching it at some point on the TV. I love the moon and moonlight, but I have never been able to understand why anyone would want to go there.  I have heard it said recently that they are thinking of a return visit! 

I find the cosmos quite fascinating too, but why do they need to squander billions of dollars to go to Mars? What for? Somewhere to go when we’ve stuffed up this planet? Only the mega-rich would be able to afford a ticket. Could you imagine a planet populated by people who have never had to ‘make do, and mend’? Who would want to live on Mars anyway – there aren’t any trees?!

I was driving to work the day Lady Di was killed in the Paris tunnel. I had the radio on and there was a newsflash. For some reason I wasn’t all that surprised. When I thought about it, I could never imagine her as an old lady. She was destined to be always young and beautiful. Her good works will live on in people’s memories for a long, long time.

The internet…………….. I don’t remember the introduction of the internet. It’s something that sort of crept slowly into my conciousness, and it was quite some time after owning a computer that I got connected to the internet. My husband could see no use for a computer. A notepad and HB pencil could cover all our needs, he thought. However, once connected, he discovered e-Bay and will happily spend hours on there looking for obscure music. He also uses the word processing programme. He doesn’t want to know how things work, so if it goes awry he does a lot of banging on the keyboard, and calling it names, until I sort it out.

Twenty years ago I did a TAFE course – Women into Technology. It was like going back to school. We studied English, Science, Computers, Maths and Women’s Issues.  I wanted to learn about computers and it was a good introduction. Once I knew that I couldn’t wipe the whole thing clean by pressing the wrong button, I was fine.

They do say that education is wasted on the young. I hated school the first time around and was a mediocre student, but because I had chosen to do this, it was most enjoyable. I had great fun and did really well. Over the years I’ve learned how to digitally manipulate photos and done some digital artwork. I can do desktop publishing; word processing; databases and spreadsheets; open and operate blogs and sort out most of the glitches that happen.

What has the internet done for me? Well, it’s enabled me to join groups of people with similar interests. People I will never, ever meet, but who I consider to be friends. These groups have given me the confidence to share my art and writing with others. I no longer worry if things are ‘good enough’. I do things to please me, and if someone else enjoys it, then that’s an added pleasure.

So thank you to all my cyber friends for making me part of the internet community.

Body Armour #4

I was on a roll yesterday so decided to keep going.  I did thicken up the lines.  Then I propped it up where I could study it from across the room and left it there for an hour or so.  I definitely didn’t want to cover up the text with more paint, so decided to stay with the one colour.  I have other ideas floating around for the next one!

Linework close-up

Linework close-up

I’m having to try to remember to pick it up by the hanger on the top as it crackles somewhat when I pick it up by the body. It may still lift off the base, but it will keep its shape if it does

I decided to stick with linework and first added the ‘wrapped’ areas above the bust. This looked rather flat, so I shaded it. I added other areas of wrapping and some connecting lines, standing back and studying for a while before adding anything else. I didn’t want to have a ’silver frenzy’* and overdo it, so I’ve decided it’s finished now.

Finished

One thing, I would like to coat it with satin finish varnish but I’m not sure if the black marker will run. Does anyone know if it is permanent enough for me to apply varnish? I’ll have to try it out on a sample first, I think. It would make me a bit cross if I put varnish on and it all bled.

*Silver frenzy is an expression used by my father. It came from a story about a man who bought a tin of silver paint to do something but had paint left – and then he painted everything he could lay his hands on until the paint had gone. I think we all have ’silver frenzy’ urges.

Body Armour #3

 

Paint and line added

I had a good morning, working on this today. I completed all the papering – quite a tedious job. Fortunately the weather was hot so it didn’t take long to dry, pinned on the washing line. I coated the whole thing with PVA glue in the hopes that it would keep everything from flaking off, and it seems to have worked.

I then gave it a thin coat of acrylic paint in ‘terracotta’ and hung it outside again for that to dry. Then I added some sinuous lines with a black marker. Still considering my next move.

Taken outside

 

I’ve lightened the photo a bit to show the lines better.  I think I will thicken the lines.

Body Armour #2

More text added (click to enlarge)

I’ve added more text to the form. Some of the edge pieces are lifting so I decided to add pieces that will wrap around onto the back of the form (this is only a half-torso, not fully round) which is not as shiny as the front.

Paper clipped to fit (click to enlarge)

The boobs and other curved areas are proving a bit tricky to paper over. I’ve had to use some dressmaking skills and clip the edges of the pieces of paper and then overlap or fan them out to suit the surface. I’ve also used smaller pieces on these areas.
I have a nasty feeling that the whole lot might slough off when I add paint and it gets wet! Like a snake shedding its skin. We shall see. If it does, then it’s back to the drawing board and start again. Maybe I should have gone over it all with sandpaper before I started. Who knows?  Who cares?  It’s all a learning curve, and I’m enjoying the process.