Today I lay down in the heat of our driveway, legs against stones and shoulders meshed into the
bitumen. These weeds that tower above our mail box, strutting to the sun so boldly and yet sheltering the grass with their new
millennium lace are so completely human with their two distinct faces. And the way they glorify themselves in hot dusty weather, becoming so alive in the summer, well, let's just say I am not the only one whose blood changes rhythm when the sun strides its way into our life again, expecting no forgiveness for its behaviour during winter. On reflection, I am sounding dramatic, but when lying down on a driveway with sweat pouring from one's reddened brow, a little bit of drama does seem appropriate. If the postman (Elwyn) had driven up I would have declared "This is what I am willing to do for my art" - but I would have said it as though art was in capital letters. A big thank you to Christel for acting as my spotter.
I had another serious round of felting last night, I haven't had much of a chance since my first lesson with
Lucy so it was quite good to flex those muscles that have been lying dormant ever since. I did notice that green wool is much better to felt with than
pinky-red as it comes out looking much less like placenta.
After wondering what to do with my finished piece I thought why not a letter writing wrap as a surprise
Christmas present for a very loved, loved one. Perhaps not such a surprise anymore.
Today I lay down in the heat of our driveway, legs against stones and shoulders meshed into the bitumen. These weeds that tower above our mail box, strutting to the sun so boldly and yet sheltering the grass with their new millennium lace are so completely human with their two distinct faces. And the way they glorify themselves in hot dusty weather, becoming so alive in the summer, well, let's just say I am not the only one whose blood changes rhythm when the sun strides its way into our life again, expecting no forgiveness for its behaviour during winter. On reflection, I am sounding dramatic, but when lying down on a driveway with sweat pouring from one's reddened brow, a little bit of drama does seem appropriate. If the postman (Elwyn) had driven up I would have declared "This is what I am willing to do for my art" - but I would have said it as though art was in capital letters. A big thank you to Christel for acting as my spotter.
I had another serious round of felting last night, I haven't had much of a chance since my first lesson with Lucy so it was quite good to flex those muscles that have been lying dormant ever since. I did notice that green wool is much better to felt with than pinky-red as it comes out looking much less like placenta.
After wondering what to do with my finished piece I thought why not a letter writing wrap as a surprise Christmas present for a very loved, loved one. Perhaps not such a surprise anymore.
