Artist Purgatory

Another month's slipped by.  I've been busy, no time to go to work, don't know how I ever fitted it in.  The weather has been perfect for reading on the veranda. I'm going to need more books.

If you ever wondered about the composition and techniques of a painting, I can recommend reconstructing it from 1000 pieces. Some call it a jigsaw, I tell myself it's study.

I've got some drawing and mixed media work done, and framed.  I also finally got around to framing some things I brought back from Paris last year. A French map of Scotland?  I think so.

I live in a sort of artist purgatory: I was married to a man who wouldn't hang things on the walls, and now I'm not supposed to hang things on the walls in this house. 

I've also had time to play with some of the photos I took on that trip. I'd frame them too, but...

(Not Disneyland - Tower Bridge)

Despite planning an interstate move later this year, there are just some things you can't leave behind when you see them laying about. And my lovely neighbour brought me a care parcel of bits left over from her house renovation.





















I'll be flogging the Tupperware from the kitchen cupboards at a garage sale, but packing the jars of sunbleached bones. And my skull collection. Some things a girl just can't leave behind.

Out and about in Paris and London - Part 2

My sadness, the tear in my eye and my trembling lower lip on leaving Paris was somewhat assuaged by first class passage on the Eurostar to London.  More leg room, a table for the free lunch.  Not as exciting as having the compartment on the train from Amboise to Paris - something I wanted to do since reading things like Sherlock Holmes as a child, and watched all of those old films, not to mention Harry Potter in both book and film - but exciting enough to appeal to my shallow side. 

The driver of the black cab to the hotel barely survived the effort of lifting our bags into the cab while pretending they weren't heavy, but cheerfully announced that he expected them to be heavy, since we were women.  Not only strong, but smart, those black cab drivers. I can but hope he wasn't hospitalised after lifting them out again. 

Spring was just starting to come to London, the weather was warmer, the blossoms and the bulbs were starting to appear and there was so much to do and see. So many old things in markets and museums, red buses, black cabs, the stuff of English crime fiction and literature, and the mix of the very old architecture with the very new gave the place a sense of living and breathing and evolving and moving. Paris is romantic history, but London is living it.

I loved the river - as I love all water, the oceans,rivers,interestingly shaped puddles.  I wanted to get to Greenwich, but time got away.  We went on a pub crawl in Wapping, where the pubs were older than Australia. We walked around on the streets which used to be on Monopoly boards when I was a child.  We saw the Prime Minister's car whiz past several times, preceded by motorbike policemen who slid sideways to stop oncoming traffic.  

Everyone had a brother who lives, or had recently lived, in Australia.  Everyone knew that  Australians live surrounded by death - redback spiders, crocodiles, funnelwebs, a host of venomous snakes.  They seemed surprised that we had survived long enough to get out of the country.  Some people thought we were from New Zealand, where life is reputedly slightly less dangerous. 

Although there were less optometrists and hairdressers than in Paris, I was glad to see that the UK has warmly embraced vintage, and there was no shortage of charity shops. They ranged from the traditional to the recycled designer specialists, priced accordingly.  I saw one right behind the Big Palace, from a bus, but couldn't get back there on foot. A vintage tuxedo shirt in a vintage shop on Portobello Road - exactly 4 times the price of  almost the exactly same shirt in the charity shop around the corner.

 

even the dentists have fashion sense

Vintage markets abound and we know how I like those.  So much taxidermy, so many darned import restrictions. It's probably just as well, or I would be surrounded as I type by stuffed pheasants, hedgehogs and a budgie in a cage - I kid you not.  Not to mention hares, rabbits, deer.... Haggling seems to be expected, but it helps if you know the difference between actual vintage and faux old. 

I found lots of little treasures and trinkets at various markets, but left so many behind. Some of the prices were, in the parlance of The Castle, dreamin'.   The UK postal people really haven't kept up with the whole sending mail overseas thing, pricewise.  Compared to other countries, an English postman could fly out and drop off my parcel for the price.  Perhaps they do.  Why does it take less time for a postcard from France to get to Australia than one from England?  Slower planes?  

Before I go again, I will be checking freight options.

Sunburn and serenity

The relentlessly sunny and warm weather continues. It could be described as pleasant beachgoing weather and the front veranda has been getting a proper workout. The chink of champagne flutes was heard.  The term 'clement' springs to mind. Ah, the serenity.

Yesterday, on one of our extended scavenges, I managed to get my nose sunburned - I was focussed on the 100 year old glazed oregon windows we'd found, apparently, and not on staying out of the sun. It was one of those cases where you had to sit on the things to stop other people grabbing them, even after they were paid for.

Luckily, I have hoarded some of the best anti-burn ointment ever, and by today, no remnant of red.  What is this magic cream, you ask?  I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you.  It's been removed from sale for a couple of years now, but I made sure I kept a small stash.  When my son fell against the pot-belly stove at 3, I put it on his hand, no scar remains.  When my friend's son accidentally walked on some hot coals as a toddler, she put it on his feet, no trace of scarring.  When a teenager was badly sunburned - (Don't forget your sunblock - yes, Mum - riiiight )  I used it to almost instantaneously take away pain and redness and it worked. (I should point out that this was not just one tube of the stuff but many over many years, and that I did let them suffer with the sunburn for a wee while first, to remind them that I'm always right.)  

I don't know why it was removed from sale but I do know I don't have very much left and it's carefully stashed, because the stuff on sale now simply doesn't work nearly as well.  Perhaps it's like some glue I saw, which says on the pack that 'residents of California are warned that this product may cause cancer'.  Luckily, I don't live in California. And my nose won't peel.

And the Oregon windows?  We're thinking cabinet doors and picture frames.  In case you were wondering.

I suppose I should thank those who gave and were given electronic readers for Christmas, as there has been a solid flow of good secondhand books to gather.  I've tried to intersperse the shallower but gripping crime fiction with some mind-improving fare and have ranged from Krakatoa to LA to London just this week.  All grist for the front veranda and I've enjoyed my Christmas gift of the New Artisans.

The Christmas tree has been demolished and stashed in a suitcase.  Market wares have been reduced greatly in number and stashed away.  A bit of spring cleaning (better late than never) is in progress.
I've put away the winter clothes and installed the summer wardrobe within easy reach. I left some jumpers out because - well, I live here.  I'm an optimist but not a fool.

I've commenced experimenting with some new things and today's was a birdbath, made using a white glass platter, part of a light fitting, a metal bird and some metal rod.  It looks nice in the garden and so far seems to be doing the job.  Work on the trunk from Fremantle is scheduled, although not too much is really needed.  I have new Christmas gift drawing books to fill, projects to work on, fish to draw, charts to draw them on and jewellery to experiment with.

I have to go back to work on Wednesday.  Damn.  I don't have time for that.

It's been a bit of a finishing week - the end of the Library exhibit (with excellent feedback), and finishing off a couple of projects.

I got this great vintage bicycle for The Girl last week at the tip shop which isn't really much of a tip shop.  I certainly hope I don't break a fingernail fixing it up, because then bikes would be one less thing it's safe to sell at a tip shop.  Of course, the day before I had ummed and arrred over whether to get a set of the perfect handlebars at the other tip shop, finally deciding against because it involved CRC and spanners and brute force.  Rats! Always stick with the plan, young apprentices, and get it whether you may need it or not.

The opshops during the week were all about coats.  I was out with two of my pals, browsing as you do when you have a spare minute.  Pal 1 saw this, tried it on, thought I would like it.  Pal 2 - same.  I saw it, tried it, loved it, bought it and wore it for the rest of the week. My friends have great taste AND generosity of spirit.  It also saved me having to beat them up and take the coat...

On Friday, trawling alone due to illness and sad work commitments from Pals 1 and 2 respectively, I snapped this one up at  Vinnies. Its a lovely vintage faux fur, needs a stitch or two to re-attach the lining on the bottom hem, otherwise perfect.

 Of course, when I got home there was an Ebay parcel waiting for me on the doorstep - gee, a coat I'd forgotten I'd bought.  Luckily, it's just gorgeous, fine NZ boiled wool, very light but beautifully cut.

It's a good thing I live in colder climes, and Winter has months to run here yet.  Of course, a good garment doesn't date and I'll wear them to death for years.  A few lesser garments may find their way to the oppie to make room for them, however.

I also found a pair of Fly shoes, the usual bag of books, and a few other trifles.  There is nothing like an op shop interlude to cheer up the working day.

Left to my own devices for a day this weekend I decided to tidy up the workspace - which means finish stuff in order to find the workspace under it.  These two have been waiting around for a while. 

The girl in the glass case needs something more but while I hash out the detail she has taken up residence where she is protected.  Dawn just swims on (or is she flying?).

I had to open the jewellery supplies to work on these - it was touch and go there for a while but I managed not to dive in there - I'm determined to re-organise that workspace!!! Eventually they will be pendants or brooches.

And to top off the weekend, the first strawberry of the year from the garden...

Post modern modern - Old is the new new yet again

Who knew, when all those record shops closed, and all the people selling records at markets finally gave up and switched to flogging cd's and dvd's, that retro would bring back vinyl?  My pathological aversion to letting go has once again paid off in spades as I have dug out the hi-fi gear, dusted it off ( and I do mean that quite literally) and excavated the record collection.  I note, in passing, that spending the extra way back when and getting the top of the range paid off.  O ye - who pointed out that Throbbing Gristle (a grunge band before grunge was even a genre) were wasted on electrostatic headphones - of little faith.  True, I gave away the TG album, which did indeed sound as though it was recorded on their manager's dictaphone from the back of a gig, to a friend for his 40th birthday, but I still have the headphones. (He was thrilled, by the way, with the gift.)

I can tell that you're dying to know - the single from the album in question was 'Discipline'.  I'd quote some lyrics but it's true, they were a bit indecipherable and haven't made it through the filter of almost 30 years.

Some unexpected treasures this weekend - some glorious 60's/70's fabric - John Kaldor and what looks very marimekko-like barkcloth in stunning black, white and grey. Some interesting satin-y fabric, intended for a quilted throw. Some glasses (for the eyes, madam, for the eyes).  Some interesting wooden boxes, jewellery bits.  A metal starburst black metal and brass clock - I know its 70's, because its engraved.  A funny little mirror. Some small picture frames.  This and that.  A walk on the beach, a Denmark pie.  3 local avocados for $2.   And a bucket of brilliant beach detritus, including a fabulous delicate dried seahorse.

I'm still busy knitting beanies, sometimes from the warmth of my electrically blanketed nest.  News this week, though, that a friend literally quite physically bumped into Johnny Depp last week, in London - six degrees of separation dramatically reduced.  I'm led to believe that when her ability to speak coherently returns she will have quite a lot to say.