Dry point etching

One of the things that happens when you are required to spend a lot of time hanging around the art room at school,  all in the name of work – is that my hands get itchy. I’m happiest working side by side with students. Lucky me struck a quiet week and a generous co-worker, who suggested, ‘make one!’

So I did.

The last time I did this I was 14, with a completely and fairly permanently stoned teacher assisting the process. Needless to say, whatever we churned out was fine by her. I carved out a giraffe. I was a bit taken by spots and twisty long necks back then.

By the time I had printed out some images today I felt a little bit calmer, a little bit wiser and a little bit taller. Another thing I can add wholeheartedly to my resume, ‘fully competent in the process of dry point etching.’

 

Printed in brown – black looked best. Discoveries made through repetition.

 

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The steps {treasure}

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Spring is here and helping the sweet little wild thyme that grows between mirror, grout and concrete; make its way  again through tiny passages and cracks.

Disco steps at their finest.

My studio {treasure, making}

How’s this for a colour?

With lots of painting yet to do, this colour moves between black, navy and grey. It’s a bit sexy, really.

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The days are windy, freezing and not able to entice many people in my household to go outside. However, I managed to find one keen helper to help slap on black paint. She told me of her tales of woe – being in 6th grade is tricky it seems. It’s easier to listen to first world little girl problems with a paintbrush in your hand, this is a certainty. She eventually left to pursue her brother on the trampoline, it was nice to have her help – and it was nice to talk. The little people here are rapidly approaching the age where less time is spent in the yard, less questioning of every little thing, less time playing, less time laughing.

The moment was saved when my 8 year old had indeed tied himself up with rope, (the thinking was, he would get a more effective jump if every appendage was joined to the other), he needed help to escape from his self induced roping situation.

Thank goodness. All is not lost.

A piece of Perth {treasure, collecting}

As I have mentioned previously. I spent some time in Perth celebrating the wedded bliss of a sweet cousin.
While staying there I was mesmerised by these sweet budgies looking at me from where I was staying. They were enormous beauties – and simply stunning. Australian Artist Anya Brock is the person behind these beautiful images. She has brought street art to a new level, and the woman uses paint brushes! Her style is very distinct and colourful – and just like a car crash, you can’t look away.

I went home, ‘over East’ and thought about my new love, a giant budgie.
For weeks I couldn’t get his little beady eyes out of my head.
As luck would have it, a limited run of prints just so happened to be available through Anya’s website. Score!!

So, I got me a lovely new friend.

Who’s a pretty boy?

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