needles, thread and inspiration

June 13, 2013 § Leave a comment

Today I finished an embroidery project, felt all smug, and then looked at the work of Maricor/Maricar and felt completely inferior and completely inspired. Would you just look at this stitchery?!

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Through the Fields

December 26, 2012 § Leave a comment

The people I love make beautiful things. One of which is this:-

You can find out more here and here.

Happy Christmas x

these things make me happy…

September 10, 2012 § Leave a comment

These incredible photographs of Picasso drawing with a torch, by photographer Gjon Mili:-

(More pictures and fascinating words here. Go and have a look.)

This (the sounds, not the visuals) by Alt-J. Blooming beautiful:-

Latitude festival

July 17, 2012 § Leave a comment

I have just come back from 4 days of music, mud, pies and cider here. It was lovely. I drew on wallpaper in a session with Simone Lia and Karrie Fransman. I laughed hard at Tim Minchin and Doc Brown. I listened to too much beautiful music to list, and I had my heart blown open by Bon Iver‘s set.

Because I am still sleepy and happy and consequently ridiculously soft and sentimental, here is this. It is on the cusp of being a guilty pleasure, but still a joy.

illustrations for The Bloody Chamber

June 28, 2012 § Leave a comment

Today has been brightened up significantly by these gorgeous shortlisted drawings for the book illustration competition 2012. I especially love the ones by Sidsel Sorenson (her howling wolves are delightful) and Igor Karash (they remind me of Arthur Rackham’s delicate line-and-wash).

Go and have a look. It’s a great selection of images.

doodles after a dry spell

June 9, 2012 § Leave a comment

Well well, it’s been an awful long time! I have mainly been

  • doing my full time job
  • getting ready to start my teacher training in September – coming to terms with moving my life back home to my parents’ big warm house after years of living away from it, reading a lot, and filling in forms. A lot of filling in forms.
  • knitting mindlessly (you can see some of my adventures with needles and yarn here)
  • becoming addicted to the dubiously idealised world of Pinterest
  • working on a private non-blogable project
  • running away at weekends for hill-walking, late-night gossip with friends, cocktails and Turkish food in That London, and learning about bats with my nearly-two-year-old nephew (who now wants to sleep hanging from his toes by the headboard)

I’m not so much in a rut as too busy and all-over-the-place to focus on drawing, and whilst I do think that creativity requires periods of just living and being and looking and thinking and soaking life up like a hungry sponge, the lack of picture-making in my life lately has started to induce mild panic. Marvelous marvelous Neil Gaiman said this, and made me feel more alive:-

And I have started drawing faces, just enjoying the experience of moving a line around again. Here some are:-

 

hair

April 2, 2012 § Leave a comment

I seem to have a bit of a visual obsession with hair (see here, and here, and here, and here!). Here’s some more of it…

(you can also see a woman with wings who may or may not be a harpy, and that on the brown paper is an ink-and-watercolour sketch I did of a ceramic figure by the brilliant Linda Kieft. Go and look at her work. It is stunning.)

Here is even more more of it in other people’s work…

Above: Seesaw by Eveline Tarunadjaja. Below: hair, dogs and knitting, all at once, marvellous – from Julie Morstad. Below that: gorgeousness from Catherine Campbell.

While we’re on the subject, this poem by Cathy Song is beautiful too. This bit:-

My hair, freshly washed   
like a measure of wealth,   
like a bridal veil.
(my hair was waist length from the age of about 6 until I had it all hacked off 2 years ago. I loved the feeling of light-headedness, and how quickly it dried after impromptu river-swims on long walks, and it does look lovely short. But I’m growing it all out again, unbearably slowly. I miss the slippery rush of unpinning it at the end of the day, and the feeling of wealth that the poem talks about. Which is an odd feeling to get from a weight of dead tissue, isn’t it?)

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