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.

20140706-144429-53069643.jpg

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.

Advertisements

Mosaic mural {making, treasure}

I did this four years ago, at my children’s old school.

It’s pretty big – I worked it all out on the floor of my studio at home, glueing sections at a time onto mesh.

Then I transported this sucker to the school where I reattached little bits and pieces that had fallen off in transit.

Mosaics (making)

I hid coins, and lady birds, snails, frogs, bits of broken crockery, a spoon, a key and other little bits of treasure within the glass tiles, (and of course I jazzed this baby up with mirror, this is a given – in any mosaic I make) with the hope of it being a place of constant discovery for adults and children.

It turns out, this has worked. I still receive comments of children being transfixed by the mural, and noticing details that us older folk may have overlooked. Children enjoy the textural feel of the mosaic, and run their hands along the mosaic as they walk through the corridor. I had considered the tactile nature of mosaic when making this, and had purposely included quite a few lines of unbroken white glass beading. I think this may be visible under the two large fish you see here. So anyone travelling with an obsessive disorder would be fully satisfied every time they pass this ‘sure thing’ in the hall way.

Of course time is a great teacher. I would have done things differently if I was given this time again. However, I don’t over think it, because my brain can be lazy at the best of times, to be overly critical. Also because of two things I do know;

1. Mosaic is hard to get off a wall, so even if  I wanted to change it –  good luck with that Emily!

And, 2. I know I’m the only one that notices the flaws in the mosaic –  it makes people happy.

So I’m happy.

‘A Falling Through’ {making}

I made her in January.

A knee jerk reaction to Summer, swimming, and polka dots (of course polka dots).

I spent a weekend almost by myself, driving – which to me is my definition of heavenly. Driving my car, listening to my music, shirking all responsibilities for 48 hours. An amazing sense of freedom.

I bought some vintage dominoes, and I sat on the side of an ocean pool, dangling my feet in the water. It was the most beautiful day. I wanted to jump in with gay abandonment. I didn’t. I watched other people enjoying the freedom – I hadn’t come prepared. The water was beckoning. I have a reputation of rebellion when it comes to the costume constraints surrounding water, and have in the past just jumped in anyway. Clothes and all, This time I couldn’t. I was being careful, watching myself, and I had to get back on the road and continue my journey. The further away I got from this pool, the more I had to fight myself not to turn around and just jump in that damned water! I really wanted to, and I felt the conditions would never be the same, never that perfect.

Anyway, I carried on, and had the most jam packed amazing weekend surrounded by people I love, reconnecting with the city that was my home BC (before children). I ate, I drank, I was merry – and topped it off with an amazing haul from Rozelle markets.

Even with all that distraction, this image didn’t leave me.

I knew this was my next piece.

20140301-113614.jpg

I had to sit on my hands until the festive season was over – there was a lot to do, as the ‘festive’ with extended family was happening at my house.

Every now and then I would sneak half an hour with this girl.

20140301-113807.jpg

She still wasn’t finished.

After Christmas the ocean calls.

So, down the coast I headed with a gaggle of children, and m’lady tucked in amongst the beach towels.

20140301-113524.jpg

I snuck in some time to stick the last few pieces on.

20140301-113657.jpg

Then with an audience of at least 10 friendly caravaning kids. I grouted.
And here she is.

20140301-112232.jpg

This happened {making}

Easter time. This happened.

We decided to stay home for the weekend, instead of our usual stint visiting the coast.

4 whole days. Bliss.

What is a girl to do with 4 whole days?

I was hanging out some washing, always a good start to feeling organised and on top of things. I had hung the clothes out, the sun was warm, and for the first time this year all 3 children were in the sandpit. The dog too. Digging for treasure they buried for her. There were an assortment of exploding volcanoes, sand pies, and then things took a turn for the worse. T-shirts were stuffed with wet sand, laughter erupting around me. Then came the hose, spraying walls, dogs, kids. Then the sand throwing. Everywhere.

I was aware all of this was happening around me, and was happy in my bubble of bliss while the blood curdling shrieks of three small people were spirited and happy – and the sand wasn’t landing in my mouth, the world was fine. Bleeding eyeballs and tears were the only thing that could bring me out of my trance.

While all this was happening around me. I had found a stumpy purple pencil at my feet (I cannot stand purple, I adore violets – but the colour is always the last I would choose in a line-up of the rainbow.) I had picked up this pencil and started drawing on the wall of the house. Swirly lines, flowers, a vine of sorts in a deco style. I love my deco.

The noise around me still loud with laughter. A good sign. I grabbed my nippers. I started cutting little green pieces of glass for the stem. Bits of mirror too – because we all know I love sparkle. I glued over the purple line. Two hours had passed with no child related incident. In fact the smallest one had joined me and asked if he could stick the green bits, green is his very favourite colour.

Terrific, I had a personal assistant for my project!

photowallone

He stuck around for at least two hours. The vine was nearly done. Then we started on the flowers. He stuck on all of the flower stamen within reach. One. Two. Three.

Then the inner petals. Then he cut and run, he went for a bath.

walltwo

I carried on over the next few days with eager assistants, until the sun went down.

This didn’t feel arduous.

This was as relaxing as a bath, as relaxing as a weeding funk,

as relaxing as floating on my back down the river.

All in all this was a very organic process,

my planning skills are severely lacking as any friend will tell you.

Picking glue off my fingers has always a moment of pure zen for me.

Flying by the seat of my pants has always been my mode of transport.

I had sand, I had water, I had squealing around me – and look what happened.

wallthree

 {work in progress}

‘Swing Life Away’ {making, treasure}

Swinging is good for you. So is jumping on a trampoline. Especially good for you considering most people put an age cap on these activities. Under 10 years old? You should be swinging and jumping like your life depends on it. 30 or over? All of a sudden the sound of crickets chirping is overwhelming. I am here to tell you, I do jump. I do swing. Engaging in child-like activities is good for us. (I also glide on shopping trolleys.)

Infobarrel.com says,”Bouncing on trampolines help remove toxins by squeezing them out. Your body has about 60 trillion cells, so the gravitational pull pushes out the toxins when you bounce. During the period of weightlessness, when your body is suspended midair, the lower pressure in your cells promote the movement of nutrients into the cells. Imagine this as a workout to get every cell in your body to exercise.”

This information is telling us we should. We must. My newest piece is based around just the swinging aspect. The weightlessness, the freedom, the whoosh of air passing your ears, the feeling of two straight legs ploughing through the sky, casting your eyes up to the heavens, feeling on top of the world. The breeze in your face, the wobbly colt-like legs that jerk you to a halt.  Jumping like a gymnast and dismounting in the mulch.

Those of us who use swings, instead of leaving it to the little people, smile BIG smiles.

DSC_5516

Beyond Borders: Mosaic Auction for DWB/MSF

September 2012
(Doctors Without Borders)