my creative life with paper
Day one started on Monday, I spent a long time gathering images and writing the post, pushing the publish button lost it all. A little frustrated, but had no time to sort it out. Yesterday I found that the post wasnt even saved as a draft, so did it all again, only to have it happen to me again !!!
So this is now Day Three, not sure if orange is in my realm today, but sitting here next to a bowl of orange tulips I cant help but feel sunny and warm inside. The sun is not shining today as it was the last two mornings, the sky is grey, but somehow this doesn’t matter, I can still feel that uplifted feeling that the memory evokes.
Orange is such an enticing colour, its pure creative energy and a colour I am drawn to in my artworks. I have even been using it in a more burnt marmalade shade in my next project being installed in March/April. sumptuous velvets, Toleware from Paris, silk sheaths on the chandelier chains……….. and much more. It’s all very exciting
Here is a pictorial view of how orange has inspired me , first off my kitchen flowers
taken on visit to Krishnamurti Centre
The list could to on and on and on !
Up early this morning, resting on my seat with a view. Spent the whole day working with my shoe images. Guess unconciously I am drawn to the feet, seeing as I cannot walk far with this cumbersome ” walking plaster” boot thing. It is very restricting, but then I guess its meant to be. I am off to hospital after breakfast to have another xray and see if it needs putting in plaster, hoping not. I managed to persuade them before christmas to give me the boot, they wanted to plaster, so watch this space.
Here is an image I like and this time there is no feet only mermaid tails, original drawing executed in oil pastels, paint and pencil. It was inspired by a dream about a mermaid and her tail fell off and could be seen floating down deep into the depths of the sea
Another day of enforced resting ! a long while back I began a journey with my ancestors, I made shoes out of white paper and tissue paper that I printed with images of my grandmothers. Its been a long time since I looked at them and have today spent sometime working with a pair I made with hydrangea petals, I wanted to bring them together in an image, and here it is.
Click on the shoe to see more paper made images
this shoe is for my great grandmother ADA, she died long before I was born at the age of 34. How sad, she left five beautiful children, one of whom was my grandfather. The shoe is elegant, as she is in the photograph I have of her taken in St Petersburg, Russia around the turn of the century. This shoe seems more solid, its the first “complete” shoe, by that I mean it has a heel and and is fully enclosed. Again I printed my pattern using Ada’s photograph and printed it onto white tissue paper, everything is handmade in paper. You can see my collection of hand made paper shoes here http://www.flickr.com/photos/8853574@N03/sets/72157622409764848
Red preserved petals, toile, intamacy, unfurling, sensitivity, fragile, vulnerable. All handmade in paper, shoe lining taken from 18th century erotic etchings to make my own toile, preserved flower petals. Gold dresdon paper edging
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;
only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands