Odalisque …
Nice quiet morning; no news reports or weather forecast to sully the pale sun and stillness.
This person starred in a recent film called the Charity shop and part of my submission at the halfway point of my MA. Her character inspired by the painting by Matisse called the Reclining Odalisque.
Happy Christmas Fabio …
What a lovely Christmas morning; it was especially beautiful this today notwithstanding the ankle-deep mud and the gathering of soggy leaves in the woods, the world belied the ‘other’ goings on 100%. While I am careful that my ‘people’ stay in a realm of their own; some have crept into the human psyche. This one for instance from the 2nd incarnation is called Fabio and could represent a Carioca; someone from Rio and seen usually on the beach at Copacabana or Ipanema. I haven’t met the other Fabio; he is a friend of my daughter and doesn’t live in Rio. He might enjoy the beach and he is, I think a film maker, stage and costume designer.
So as my Fabio has become human in name only, he is characterful and can dance perhaps not the samba yet.
Happy Christmas to you and my family in Rio xxx
the saga continues …
I have not looked at the weather forecast or the BBC news so I am blissfully unaware of the calamities or not that might beset me. So, until I venture out, I will continue the saga of the coat hanger people. These are coloured but not dressed. My people do not have skin; they are made of the fleece from a sheep and felted. They do not compare with humans as regards human ideals of flesh tone; Using any natural materials available that produces colour; such as onion skins, rhubarb, flower heads, nettles, woad, weld and turmeric; my people are more vegetable or animal than human. Without going into the finest detail of dyeing and felting and to be honest it isn’t rocket science or a big secret, but it is tedious, and requires basic knowledge of natural dyeing process and meticulous planning. This know-how can lead to further shenanigans, with different and complex outcomes. It is then perhaps, when the craft becomes art. Perfecting the bits that seem so tedious and time consuming is important and in time does become fun. However, this a MA and the perfections have to become constant or a mere walk in the park, before I can consider myself as an artist and proverbially ‘run’
Coat hanger people…
As promised by the BBC rain has set in; so, having walked as the not promised sun came up, I am now confined to my little studio for an hour or so. Bereft of good news and noting how awfully dull the bad news has become; I thought I might tell you about my coat hanger people. The characters I am working with at present are the third incarnation. In the beginning using dry felting they were rather Neanderthal.
As they have developed using wet felt, different wire and improved methods; while they are no more attractive, they have morphed into something less primitive.
For coat hanger people that is.
With a head no more refined than coat hanger hook, no hands and huge feet and a six pack to die for, they have no redeeming features. They are without gender, without mothers or fathers, they are to me brothers and sisters, no lovemaking or define procreation, but they dance and materialise.
So, if you understand that then you are ‘cleverer’ than me … for me it is just magical.
It was to be the longest night …
On Saturday while not attending my Berkshire Spinners, Weavers and Dyers group Zoom Christmas Party and while our PM was announcing the new stringent restrictions since the Mutant Covid19, I was meeting with a friend on WhatsApp; I won first prize in the raffle. The afore mentioned annual Christmas party is usually not to be missed; with party games, a raffle,bran tub, fine food and fun; it seemed to have continued in the same way in the newfound Zoom; unbeknown to me, my name was added to the hat for the raffle. The joy was short lived as the prize was in Tier 3 and I a few miles away in Tier 4. So, I began to resign myself to eating Christmas goodies in March or regifting them to a needy family in Tier 3.
However, by some magical strategic method into which I will not question, the parcel arrived last night as we went into our longest night and to my delight.
I thought that me and my long-suffering husband were going to have a quiet Christmas and we still will but with some extra treats; for which I am grateful and beginning to believe in Christmas magic.
While the words Berkshire Spinners, Weavers and Dyers will take up all the syllables in a Haiku they will become … Friends
Taught me [to] spin, weave dye,
who even in my absence,
didn’t forget love.
new beginnings with pitfalls …
As the year comes to an end; I have almost completed my mid term essay and research journal. It has been an ‘interesting’ journey, not as I expected; being a student in isolation is not a comfortable option. However, it did allow me to indulge in my love to create and research/read endlessly with copious results. Not always pleasing; but, mostly fitting a student’s remit. Nonetheless, without peer contact and student banter one finds herself baffled at every turn. Self-criticism is often mismanaged, doubt and delusion set in, in equal measure.
I hear the call to adventure, feel the positive conditions and the opportunity for a free spirit; but I also fear the lack of direction, control and dispirit in and of the present situations.
So, a little poem for this Coat Hanger person with no name as yet and her story to evolve.
Dress of silk and wool,
shades of weld, iron, alum,
swirls at her ankles.
A prayer …
From earthly chaos,
Above the worldly chatter,
heartfelt songs and praise.
This morning out of the silence I hear prayer. I have not heard this beautiful sound since the first lock down in March. Someone being prayerful or singing in their garden in my neighbourhood is not unusual, but it goes unnoticed when the trains are running full pelt to Paddington or Gatwick, the traffic on the motorway is up to speed and flights to the US are on schedule. This morning his song and that of the birds was beautiful and welcome; yet somehow it was sad and less hopeful.
I am not religious, or did I vote Tory but somehow, I did hope this ‘natural’ disaster unlike Brexit an orchestrated disaster, might have been managed, less politically, less left or right, with more humanity. We have been failed. The money tree that produces when there is political gain has not borne fruit.
Thank you to those who keep the faith in multiple capacities I am less hopeful.
Sunshine and showers …
So today is almost spring like … happy to have walked in the park; especially as this morning it was pouring with rain. Oh, the joys of British weather. Nonetheless, Celia and her friend are having fun.
in the style of Celia Pym …
This little coat hanger person is called Celia; she is a child and therefore a little smaller than the others I have made. Her shorts are made from the off cuts from a part of dungarees; made to fit another rather short person. Her sweater is knitted with some fine brown tapestry yarn and patched with yellow; in the style of Celia Pym. When The weather improves, she will star with her little sister in a film that involves a see saw; but don’t hold your breath this horrible weather is not conducive to good filmmaking. Have a good day
Counting down …
Eight days to go before Christmas; after a troublesome year I am trying to focus on the little things that have brought joy.
This detail from a recent arpilleras represents the delight I find in my studies for my MA in textiles. They have gone on all year despite lockdowns, restrictions and my self-isolation. I have managed top read, research, stitch, make films and attend with the use of Zoom; lectures, meetings and tutorials. While I was able to meet with other students, I did miss the human contact; so, I make wishes for next year; for a vaccine and less restriction.
Vase on the window ledge;
lightens a dull winter day
‘til the petals drop.
Coat Hanger Doll's House 