songs of light

new day

The sun rose this morning, as it tends too, even after disasters, and I felt my heart rise with it. There are not many days left of this summer after all.

I decided to sit down with my vintage children's books, and begin making a banner for my art room.

The banner will have a story running through it about this little boy. I wanted to sew around all the edges of the images, but I've run out of thread. I'll try and get some more tomorrow.

And then, quite unexpectedly an old friend arrived.

She flew along the side of the house, looking in at the windows, and I joyfully ran out to meet her. She flew around and around my head so close that I could see her patterned wings illuminated by the sun, like veins in a leaf. I could hear the papery sound of her wings brushing the air she floated on. It sounded like a blessing. 

Soon she found the swan plants and balanced herself at the edge of the leaves. Raising her body upwards she began to lay her eggs.

One, two, three.

Soon I will have some more babies like this little monster. Four days ago he was so small I had to point to him on his leaf in order for people to find him. 

I am grateful for this life cycle, and for it's gentle lessons. I can always go on if there is beauty.

 

thank you

Thank you so much for all your thoughts and prayers for me. I had a bit of a harrowing night as Dean was in Australia and I chose to stay home and wait for him as his company decided to fly him home. He couldn't land in Christchurch so had to land in Dunedin and bus it from there. He didn't end up getting home till after 7 am and then had to head straight into town anyway to secure the work building. Wish I had gone and stayed at my parents place.

Someone (Jenna?) asked about my brother in law Nick. He turned up unharmed several hours later. We had no contact at all with him and it was very hard not to fear the worst as he works in the worst affected area. In the end my Dad went in to try and find him. The traffic was so bad that he had to leave the car far from the centre of town and walk in. Finally he found a policman who knew Nick's work building had not collapsed. It is however damaged beyond repair. My sister was so brave about it, but they have three small children and I just do not know what they would do without him. Nick said buildings were falling down next to his car as he tried to drive out of the city.

Last september's earthquake was more violent but as no lives were lost I felt able to move on from that quite easily. This time there is no escaping the terrible toll of lives lost and property totally flattened. The city looks like a war zone. It's such a heavy and un-nameable feeling.

Thank you again for all your kind words. It means so much to me.

another one

So grateful tonight to be alive and finally have my loved ones all accounted for. Massive earthquake here today with my brother in law missing for hours. Have been glued to the TV and fearing the worst. Damage in Christchurch is astronomical. Rescue teams are digging through the rubble looking for survivors. It was so loud I thought a train was coming. So grateful Dean was elsewhere for work and so was not in his office in town today.  Bit spooky too because there is a man here who predicted this would happen again, and he was only out by a few days. He has also predicted an earthquake which will break all records on March 20. I do most definitely hope he is wrong.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

bits and pieces

To celebrate my Mum turning 65, I decided to make her a heat pack.

I put a little poem on the back to remind her to be herself.

And then I made myself a peg bag, which I'm a little embarrassed of because it looks like a funny shape to me. But then that's what happens when you make things up as you go along!

And last but not least, I went to a market on the weekend and found the most wonderful pile of vintage children's books. I'm hoping to make some kind of collage with them.

What did you get up to this weekend?

Dear Mary Oliver, you make me so happy . . .

I thought the earth remembered me,

she took me back so tenderly,

arranging her dark skirts, her pockets

full of lichens and seeds.

I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,

nothing between me and the white fire of the stars

but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths

among the branches of the perfect trees.

All night I heard the small kingdoms

breathing around me, the insects,

and the birds who do their work in the darkness.

All night I rose and fell, as if in water,

grappling with a luminous doom. By morning

I had vanished at least a dozen times

into something better.

- Mary Oliver

My life seems to have become a Mary Oliver poem the last few nights. I have not been able to sleep because the full moon was shining on my face, my little rabbit was bouncing around under the deck, the plovers (very loud birds) were screaming under my window, every hour on the hour it seemed. And when I got up to give the plovers a piece of my mind (as you do) I found a little hedgehog snuffling around at the front of the house. Now, making friends with a hedgehog has long been on my bucket list. Yes, seriously. How funny to know there is one who visits my house but we never meet because I am sleeping (hopefully) when he is up. Even if we can't be friends, I like to know he's there.

Thank you all for your very kind comments about my adventures in sewing land. I sewed for so many hours today but it got dark before I could take pictures for you, so that will have to wait for another day.

I hope you have had a lovely day, wherever you are in the world x x

some kind of miracle

For the first time in my whole life I sewed something, right out of my little brain and guess what? It's totally fine! This might not sound impressive but then you never met my high school sewing teacher. She's probably still rocking traumitised in a corner somewhere.

Miraculous I tell you.

a tricky endevour

This morning I suddenly had a very specific idea for a wall hanging. And, bless me, this afternoon I actually started to make it, instead of drawing a little sketch of it to languish with all the other little sketches that hang around hopelessly for years . . .

It is quite humorous to think of me sewing a wall hanging, but I shall forge ahead anyway. I'm afraid it might be the kind of activity where one must concentrate and plan ahead. Oh crappity crap. Dear me, I shall have to be dreadfully sensible. My brain hurts already. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

All this to say, your kind and encouraging comments are spurring me on no end. Thank you! It is so nice to have a little cheering squad circling the globe.

P.S Fingers crossed that I will be back soon with a tale of triumph rather than woe :)

 

beginnings

I've been making a little book today, in between butterfly duties.

I'm excited because I managed to sew around the edges without any disasters happening! (I tried this before a few weeks ago, and as the stitches were too close together the sewing machine made a perforation instead and cut my picture up!) I very particularly wanted a sewing machine for sewing paper, so I'm glad it worked today.

Now, those of you who know me know that I've been wanting to do more mixed media work. It scares me sooo much because I'm afraid I can't do it. But I can't keep ignoring the fact that this kind of art (and paintings with text) is what gives me the strongest feeling of longing when I look at other people's work. I felt quite tense when I started this morning, afraid I would 'waste' my printmaking paper, which has been sitting in the cupboard for years, waiting for a day such as this.

Now that I'm 2/3's of the way through it I feel much calmer. I'm not sure what to do with the other two pages but I'm trusting I will figure it out.

I was watching a program on the band Coldplay last night, and I loved listening to the band members talking about their creative process. Chris Martin said he can't read music, he justs mucks around with his guitar and here and there a song comes out. He said sometimes he has only the chorus for weeks, and then one day the first verse turns up. He just waits knowing it will come eventually. Sometimes a song isn't finished for years. All of this reminds me again that art is about faith. Faith in yourself, in the process, in the ebb and flow of ideas. I remember reading somewhere that the work knows more than you do. You are just a little vessel waiting to be filled.

the simple life

"To know and not to do is not to know."

- Wang Yang Ming

I've started reading the most wonderful book by WM.S Coperthwaite called - A Handmade Life. I just got it out of the library this afternoon and I'm already enthralled. I don't believe in mainstream values, I don't know if I ever have. I believe in nature, in living close to the earth, in money not being important or any kind of measurement of who you are. I believe in stopping to watch the late afternoon light highlight the bleached grasses, believing that honouring that moment is as important as anything else you did today. More important probably. 

The inside jacket cover states, 'William Coperthwaite is a teacher, builder, designer, and writer who for many years has explored the possibilites of true simplicity on a homestead on the north coast of Maine. In the spirit of Henry David Thoreau, Emily Dickinson, and Helen and Scott Nearing, Coperthwaite has fashioned a livlihood of integrity and completeness - buying almost nothing, providing for his own needs, and serving as a guide and companion to hundreds of apprentices drawn to his unique way of living. A Handmade Life carries Coperthwaite's ongoing experiments with hand tools, hand-grown and gathered food, and handmade shelter, clothing, and furnishings out into the world to challenge and inspire."

My heart is so full as I write this, (as it always is when I find a kindred spirit) that I cannot really settle down to tell you all my thoughts on the idea of a simple handmade life. I will finish reading the book, digest it, marinade in it and then, perhaps then, I will be able to find the words.

late summer

I've been watching the moon rise and fall . . .

I've been picking apples from ancient trees . . .

and thinking that autumn must be on it's way.

And I've been admiring the very first windflower, and the wonderful deep shadows it's leaves throw. It won't be long before there is a freshness in the air and the leaves begin to turn. Another summer will have flown. There will be more summers, but they won't be exactly the same as this one.