Sunday is studio day

I remember when I was just a little Emily, maybe 10 years old. I looked up the meaning of my name in a book, filled with definitions of flowers, oceans and honey bees. And then I found it. Emily! Completely deflated in that moment, as I read the word ‘industrious’. What the actual f@*k?! Who names their baby after a factory? Mum. And Dad.

It took years to process this information. And I questioned their brick and smoke stack decision for many years. Until now. Now I’m ready. Ready for industry. Ready to be industrious.

Today was a great day, blissed out on ink fumes, while being absolutely Emily. Industrious.

Didn’t get any washing done. Let the chickens free range instead of feeding them. Didn’t mop the floor. And most definitely did not qualify for a 10,000 step kind of day. Did I mention my pyjamas? They stayed on way longer than they should’ve too. 

I had made a few mid week carves and come up with two Lino cuts and was pretty keen to see how they turned out.

This one was first. And surprise… it’s me. It is. Morning functioning is not my thing. Unless, coffee. I’m lucky to have a partner who knows this, and delivers one every morning to the cranky, bleary eyed monster that I am in the a.m.
The next one – a little more depth involved. I have been drawing up a storm over the last month. Filling pages with parts of me, once upon a time.

 In this one I was remembering, the absolute agony of the loss of a great love. Remembering the feeling of cushioned lips pressed on a warm forehead. The forehead kiss gives the gift of many things; calm, comfort, patience, respect, adoration, preciousness and love that seems truthful and unconditional.

Heavy and light hearted – one balancing out the other.

A Sunday session ensued, slowly reclaiming my studio from being a Winter snuggle space to a Spring hang – taking the tape down in one long strip that had lived firmly for 6 months between the joins of the doors to keep the chilly drafts of  minus degree months out.

With these two cuts in tow, I inked up and waited for the ultimate treasure to reveal itself. Printing is like opening birthday presents, taking a blindfold off after whacking the belly out of a piñata. The uncertainty and following reveal is a bit of a high that I don’t usually experience on a Sunday morning. Noted….aaaaand happening again soon, make no mistake.

Found me some Mansionair and rolled like the dickens to reveal these treasures. I pegged them up to dry and drew up my next batch.

‘Exit song’ October 2016

‘Remedy’ October 2016

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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.

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!

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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.

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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.

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 {work in progress}