Tag Archives: art

Just in case you were missing me.

I thought I’d send you all a pic of my mantle.


Soil crumbs an’ all.


I love all of my mates.


Although P rolls his eyes.


Look at my new bird :)


Off to wipe it down now.

Oh, and I’ve been trying out new things with my triffid drawings.


And, the flush setting has begun!

I’ve two little stones in the studio as I write, waiting for me to finish them off.

And yes, that’s probably in the doom of death way.

I’ll keep you posted.


The quilt, Kumbaya, and, ‘why’ drawings.

The quilt is finished!





And the back.


I’ve enjoyed it.

Taken my time quilting it.

Decided I didn’t like the orange half way through.

Thought it would take forever about two thirds through.

Got fed up quilting it.

Felt sad when it was all over as now I have nothing to quilt.

Decided perhaps the orange was o.k. after all.

Thought it was a silly quilt and who the hell would want it in their house.

Realized it was for a five year old, and that perhaps she would like it.

Got told (several times) by that man who lives in the house with me that it would cost a fortune to post and that he’d take it back with him when he goes back to England in January for a business trip.

Got defensive about getting my Christmas gift there on time.

Got told again.

Decided that perhaps he was right.

And finally …

Bought this for Hope’s gift instead.


click photo to get your own

 (Come on. How cute is that!)

She’ll still get her quilt, but as a, because gift, instead of a, Christmas gift.

We all have to pick our battles.

In the meantime, I’ve still been drawing my ‘why’ drawings.



But I don’t know why.

Perhaps they need to be quilts.

Perhaps not.

And lastly.

I’m still worried about the Philippines :(

I go to bed every night loving how comfortable my bed is.

I wake up, amazed that I can shower every day in hot water.

The power went out the other day due to a storm, and I appreciated how lucky I am to have electricity.

Now. Believe me when I tell you that I’m not a sappy, let’s all hold hands together and sing Kumbaya in voices just off tune enough to make you want to throw up a little, sort of person. (Although that’s o.k. if you are) (Except for the throwing up bit) (And the fact that I might just have to leave you to it and run away from you quickly bit). I’m English for heaven’s sake. A true cynic if ever there was one. But perhaps I’m just getting a little soggy in my old age.

(not really)

But I

Can’t do the suffering any more.

Can’t do the, what the hell is happening here, any more.


I’m just going to have to stop listening to stuff like this.

Because, no matter how much it has always been one of my favourite songs, it’s just not good for my mental health any more.

Oh well, that’s me bummed out for the day.

So what are you up to?

So I never promised you a rose garden.

But who cares when you can have these instead.


Industrial Bloom on Etsy


Industrial Bloom on Etsy

Although you could probably get lockjaw from both.

I wonder. Would it smell as sweet?

Would it matter?


And this

Is why I don’t’ like PMC (precious metal clay).


Oh yes, it all sounds good. You can do stuff with it never attempted before, or so the rumours will have you believe, but, look at it. There must be a thousand billion dollars of the stuff on my fingers right here. And all the things I’ve ended up making with it so far are really nothing to do cartwheels over. Most of it I’ve ended up heating down into balls to use in other projects because I’m just not happy with the outcome.

Very distressing, and it makes my fingers look chubby!

After the initial stage of trying to re-condition the dried out clay from my last frustrating attempt to use it, I did manage to get it into a more stable form and not get any on my fingers, but why bother is what I want to know. It’s expensive, it’s fiddly, it’s annoying, and, so far I’ve made nothing I like out of it. So I will finish up using the blob I have and never buy the stuff again.

It’s actually a relief to find something I don’t want to do for a change. I feel a little grieving coming on for an opportunity not fully exploited, but to continue is madness.

I might very well end up in some twelve step programme if I don’t give up some of this stuff now.

Exciting times in the studio.

There’s been a massive clean up.

Something apparently took over my body yesterday and lo!


Can you say-what happened!


Everything is in its place.


Which is kind of frightening.


In a creepy sort of way.


But, I’m liking it.


From this angle it doesn’t look like I’ve done a thing.

But, it’s my little piece of safe haven.


As soon as I sit down here I’m in the land of, What? You want dinner? Sorry I don’t do that, but you can bring me a cup of tea if you want…

Now I just have to sort out the rest of the studio and the people who live here with me will think I’ve been invaded by the body snatchers-again.

It seems that now the jewelry has apparently worked its way to the top of my creative priorities I do have one little problem to fix.

The extractor fan.

It doesn’t work. Well, it half works in a very noisy, half working kind of way.

P made it for me, (I suspect with only half an effort), but I need something efficient now as the soldering fumes are taking over and my hypochondriacal self is beginning to get all up in my face over it.

Two things I don’t like about jewelry making.

1. wearing a dust mask

2. worrying about the fumes.

O.K., so I don’t like the nitric acid either, or the precious metal clay, but that’s because I haven’t quite got a handle on them yet and so they annoy the hell out of me.

(Yes, I need to know how to do everything, and I need to know how to do it well. What? You don’t?)

So, my next project, before I die of jewelry related fume and dust inhalation, is to make myself a better extractor fan without spending a thousand billion dollars on it.

Because that just wouldn’t be cost-effective.

Tell me.

Why no one told me about Philip Jackson?


Where has he been my whole life?


I am seriously ashamed of myself for having not heard of him.

Look at that foot.


Those hands


The movement.


So delicate.


And striking.

Those fingers!

I want to stand and look at her all day.


And sit next to this one just to feel her calm and talk with her about her book.


O.K. these are a bit intimidating.


But how sad is she.


I want to take care of her, listen to her story.

O.K. I want one.

Perhaps for my birthday?

Studio Time.

Today I made a ring.





And a painting


Now I’ve got to wait until tomorrow until I can play again.


%d bloggers like this: