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September 26, 2016
Poem by Tara Lemmey

Poem by Tara Lemmey

I was sent this poem last week from Letterpress Collective;it arrived at an opportune time in the upsy-downsy land of nelabligh. So I with new hope I returned to screen printing.  After a disastrous start I tried again this weekend; I replaced some of the tools, but reused the paper used in the aborted attempt. Of course with a new and improved frame the registration was completely array.   Nonetheless, the technique was much improved, so while not aesthetically pleasing. I am happy to say the ink and squeegee action was perfected and the result a delight; but not available for human consumption. So those who dragged me from the pit of despair a couple of weeks back, I thank and will post something suitable as the next layers are added.  

Meanwhile, in the nelablighnopress the print room is taking shape.  The fount required has all now been located and bought; I await delivery of the final set this week. An imposing stone is on its way, the press to arrive in early October.  All other tools have been acquired while there are some bits and bobs to consider; the next big outlay is the ink; I have made inquiries about the the value of rubber and oil based ink and the various brands but have not yet made any decisions. Going to a workshop at St Bride’s Foundation this week,  where I will be taught the use of a  8×5 Adana so I am sure I will be given sound advice one way or the other and the debate will continue.  

Silent Sunday

September 25, 2016

Prayer flags ...

Good new week …

September 19, 2016

This weekend has been busy, adventuresome and a delight. I popped to Oxford Street to do a bit of shopping; it only takes 25 minutes so I was able to buy a couple groovy hats, a shirt and take tea and cake at the Cafe Royal on Regents Street. Who’d believe a lone bald woman with ladies who lunch …

Also, take in an artist in a shop window!

All, before, I went to the Feminist Library for back -to -back reading and film about the history of the library and the outcome of its forthcoming eviction.

So it would seem to be the sublime to the ridiculous or rather the ridiculous to the sublime.  Back home later with the makings of a new outfit, head full of ideas and copious notes; I was a happy girl.

It couldn’t better, yet it did; Sunday I had another session of letterpress at the London Centre of Book Arts, it was like being at home again;  the walk through by the canal to Fish Island is a joy; the flower, along with the shape of the work in Regents inspired my work with a drawing that I had made into a photo-polymer plate; kindly made for the event at Lyme Bay Press.  

So rather than rock with self congratulation just enough to say have good week.

The view from my window …

September 17, 2016

From my study window, I can see a garage where motorbikes are repaired.  It is not in constant use; I rarely see human life or a bike, so it is of little interest. Yet, it does hold my attention; for reasons I don’t care to mention, how can I explain how such an ugly building can be so distracting.  It has no windows, just double doors only seen when I walk by, at the front.  

The roof recently repaired has no redeeming features; except a plant creeping along at the corner. It is a Russian Vine or better known as a mile-a-minute plant, so named because of its vigorous growing habit.  Despite is its alarming growth, it is attractive with bright green foliage and lacy white flowers.  Directly opposite the plant is a flag, white and emblazoned with the Saint George Cross … it is a very big, a little out of place and adds to my distraction when I supposed to be doing other things.

I have written a poem about this situation and as it involves the vine smothering the flag, very soon, I don’t think I will post that.

Silent Sunday

September 11, 2016

Tea and sunflowers

… in the library at this minute …

September 7, 2016

Time passes quickly when you are having fun; so they say.  I have been reclassifying the Cole library now for several months maybe a year; it is not a laugh a minute in fact there is very little to laugh about. When one works with rare books if not always the fun factor that brings joy. The Cole library related to zoology can be a little dreary so I have learned to look out for snippets of wonder. This for today is good as it gets An outline of the natural history of our shores by J. Sinel



Not a disaster but …

September 6, 2016

Bad hair dayWhile I was in Brazil I learned about altered books.  Not particularly new to me; seeming a bit of a destruction rather than creation.  However, I soon understood it was a clever way to use a book destined for landfill; soon  it proved to be a little of a life saver.

The book I selected to be altered is by E.V. Cunningham and called Cynthia.  As I understand very little of written Portuguese, so I can tell nothing about its content.  The front cover is a picture of a young woman, Cynthia, perhaps wearing a hat.  At first glance there is nothing significant in that; except that I wear hats and have a small wardrobe of different shapes and colours. They have proved useful over the years as I suffer from Alopecia, spending much time considering ways to cover up and disguise this frustrating condition.. I say frustrating because, it isn’t life threatening and it is often in flux going or coming back; just  a  miserable side effect of depression.

Sometimes it felt like the cause!

Sadly, the condition has worsened while the management of my depression has improved.  

I lost my hair completely 2 years ago; when I was attempting to cope with a couple of traumatic events in my life.  Then, in time there was some growth and my life took an upward turn when I began planning a new career at 67; finding new opportunities in the creative world.  

Then, out of the blue a couple more disasters;  that rocked my boat and overnight my hair was gone; as we speak a couple of tufts are hanging in there, eye lashes and brows have gone.   

Like I said; no great shakes, my brother had a leg amputated, hair loss is chicken feed!

So where is this going? My brother is healing; my plans are going on, my studio and press is coming together . I don’t look so pretty but my little altered book, also not so glamorous; the result of meditation, automatic writing and painting is celebration of hats, hair and goneness.