Monday … Bank Holiday
Not just due to the inclement weather, me and my partner decided to stay at home this Bank Holiday weekend. We did hope to take a walk along the Thames but even that hasn’t yet been an option. However, it has been a time to think a little about my projects that are looming large at the moment and consider a way forward. I am preparing for a workshop in Newcastle; so I have been drawing some images to make into wood engravings. This has been a bittersweet experience; while I can draw in real space it is difficult to bring the impressions down to 2×3 inches. So this remains a work in progress.
I also have some dressmaking to do and until I make those first cuts into the fabric; I am disturbed by the job still to be done!
Then there is my journal; I have keep a diary for years as a so called ‘therapeutic tool’ to mark my progress in and more importantly out of depression. I did hope it might be useful for my blog and it is a good source for information when searching for a personal connection to not so personal facts.
However it is mainly a place of self-pitying drivel and mostly not for human consumption. These rantings are not always true also I rarely honour the less hideous things in my life. I malign all attempts to drag myself into the truth.
So as I finish the umpteemth jourmal; yesterday I replaced it with a booklet of unlined paper in a bid to stop myself writing and instead make shapes and mark shoping this might address at least one of my above mentioned ‘problems’
I did begin to use a beautifully bound book at the beginning of the year … but I put in to one side when my recent malady took a regressive hold. I was, and still afraid to sully it with untruths.
Meanwhile; I took this picture of my garden a moment ago from my kitchen window. I was making the first cup of tea of the day. (A joy I must document more! both the tea and the garden) I point out a little walnut tree. I have other trees in pots including a ginkgo biloba out of shot that I cherish. Back to the walnut tree (given to me by the tallest, ugliest Hell’s Angel I have ever seen; who is also a kind and generous neighbour) that love perhaps more than myself; it is beginning to show signs of life. I was concerned about its survival in my backyard; I didn’t want to tell my friend I had killed his gift. So already a good impression.
So onward and the new journal …