My little bear was sick last night. Every cold brings the croup making night time breathing a struggle.
I have a deep intuitive desire to sketch more. Still life’s hold no motivation to me. Never really have but figures I love to capture.
Let sleeping bears lie…
Trying to find myself under this fluffy cloud of a duvet without disturbing my husband or bumping into that ginger cat – both are snoring or purring and one with a whistle. This is where and when I find the words to record my feelings , journal or blog. I just finished a record long email to my best friend sister. She lives my life with me from her bed and cleanroom. She has Cystic Fibrosis. Years of misdiagnosis means she was treated for asthma with cortisone leaving her bones so brittle with osteoporosis that she has two broken shoulders, wrist and back and others. Her contact to the world is through her smart phone. I photograph my day to days and all the wonderful things I see and update her all through the day. I photograph the shops for her, the autumn trees and my son as he learns a new trick, anything that will make her day. She keeps a journal of my life and my son’s life for me. Recording all our likes and dislikes along with our mile stones.
Today’s long email was all about the above mentioned little boys second birthday. We are consulting on party themes that would best suit celebrating his particular 2nd year of life. Back to this fluffy cloud I’m sleeping in back home. Back home as in back to the house I was raised in. I moved back home this week with my little family. Back to Mom and I can’t pretend it is not Heavenly and completely nostalgic. I get to have pet interaction a big thing I’ve missed. I watch my son play in my old bedroom now his. I’m sleeping in this marsh mallow melt duvet only my Mom would have. I know the sounds of this house. I can hear who is where. I know the breezes and which door is open. I know and love the sounds of the wind chimes and the dancing light of the crystals in the windows. I know the plants and trees in the gardens as they grew with me.
I can here that my Mom is up. Her knees creek just like mine.
A small delight for me I must mention is the wash line is only 5 steps from the back door that alone I am grateful for.
Sigh. Nothing like mothers home. How can I build a more “mothering” home to support my family when we move again in a few or so months.
My Gran had a wonderfully magical home too though different to my Mom’s. Gran’s house is gonna be a whole book one day. Mom’s and Gran’s house shared some key elements, routine (especially main meal time), pets and wild birds, and gardens fairies dream of and children stay children in. I feel I must continue the tradition of a great mothering home.
Draw the same dog in the same pose 20 times with a chisel nib pen. I don’t have one of those but then I realized that highlighters have chiseled nibs so I used my darkest one. I was blank at where to start as you can see by my comments on top of the drawing sheet. I then remembered my favourite dog sketch of the past of my “mof-mof” Nessie. She was my mothers dog but never left my side throughout my teenhood. She use to lie on my bed like it was all hers. She was a little dog somewhere between a Maltese and a Poodle – miniature Poodle.
No. 17 captured her lazing glamor best
see other fun results from this drawing lab here.
I took contour drawing to bed with me last night. I record my life with fuzzy blackberry snapshots and love to look through the album of my life for inspiration first thing in the morning or last thing at night. I knew I had some cute one of my boy to draw – it was the way he got that hat to sit on his head.
I drew these quick controlled contour drawings (looking at the page now and then)
I took the plunge then with ink and a blind contour attitude hoping my kid would not come out looking like a monster.
Things I learnt. I love my 9B pencil – it’s so hard for me to reach for another and I always love ink. Both leave such distinct purposeful lines. I liked what I saw in pic one and three and pic four really caught the expression so well!
My Mother says she found all my college work while cleaning out – can’t wait to see it again. Coming up for my 100post need to make it good.
I keep a journal sketch book where I draw what I term the images of my day. Sometimes I know what they are before I put pen to paper other times they just come. Like my urge and then flow of women that came out on this page. I draw in ink as then I face any fear of what it is going to look like as I can’t erase it. Pen on paper says “I accept the out come”.
Interesting theme of domestication, motherhood, warmth and only a little glamor.
I got the tweet this past week about Angie Allen’s blog and her three generational weekly art exploration. I’m joining in - no question about it. Even as an artist I need the focus. I also loose my perspective on life if I don’t use my creativity and talents. Art is my sanity preserver.
Assignment one: Lie in bed and draw 30 Cats. Perfect I always find myself in bed. I have several lie downs a day to cope lately (so do most cats). Here are my some where around 30 Kitties (I struggle to count them as they overlap)
Evil eye cats, playful kitties, napping pud faces, yoga moves and even flat footed diabetic Harry Patter (the neighbours cat) is here. Oh kitties are curious creatures!
I learnt something about myself and enjoyed remembering relationships with furry ones of the past. I was strongly influenced by the cats in my life now – my mothers babies:
Benjamin Moodley
(Benny Bunny)
a miniature ginger flokati rug, superb hunter, master acupuncturist and dominant male despite his size and “trilling” accent
Greatest Achievement: Marking his territory on my fathers pillow
Isabella Bloo
(Bella Boots)
Dizzy Daisy that has never caught any thing
Big Long Cat who delights in ballet practice at 5am across the bed
Her tail is 20% longer than most and her looks charm her General Veterinarian
Complete flirt with all that is male with supreme love biting skills.
Greatest Help to Humanity: Caused me to correctly guess the sex of my unborn child as she lay on my preggy belly every chance she got. So it had to be a boy.
My Mom had a strict way of making her bed for years. It felt like 20 different pillows and stuffed ornaments that had to be strategically placed when you wanted to do the favor of making Mom’s bed so I rarely did. (it was my Dad’s bed too and I had a secret love watching him tear up the entire Biggie Best Bazaar of a bed before getting into it. Sometimes he went to bed late no doubt to avoid the battle of harvesting a meadow of tiny florals and frills to get to bed. It was also required by Mom that Priscilla bear and her friends, one a fat hen, were gently removed from the bed and placed gently on top of the double meter high piles of scatter cushions also from the bed. I caught dad more than once smacking ‘Henny Penny’ off the end of the bed in the middle of the day just for a secret laugh. I’m sure I rugby tackled Henny a couple of times too)
Thus from the past is my present bed making philosophy derived – shown above – simple and every day different like painting a new picture to invite me to bed – that is on the days I get around to making it!
I lost my current journal in the scaffolding of books next to my bed and my motherhood agendas but found it this week again as I craved to scrape myself out on paper. I can not use a gel pen – it has to be a pencil or normal ball point pen, that is my voice when I write. I need to feel the words indenting the page. I can breath again once I record the main theme/thoughts/impressions/ideas of my day. I write and draw in my journal. When I look back at my 12 year history of journaling I feel I have accomplished the extraordinary – my life.
My faith is such a strong theme in my journals that I can not deny that my faith in Christ has brought me to every success in life despite times of despair.
I’ve kept a gratitude journal to get through hard times, I have a design journal, a marriage journal and I journal for my son (8months old). They make insightful reading.
Relive the good times.
All true husbands – trustworthy ones that actually fulfill the true and original meaning of husband – the loving, supportive, faithful, loving – the ones that live for the happiness of their families - that need their families to be happy as much as they need to breathe. These men need to be honored.
Today I thank my husband. I found the letter he wrote to me on our wedding day. Four Hours before we were to meet in the church My best friend of 4years penned a letter for my heart straight from his heart. He pledged his love and whole life – and looking back he strives everyday to make my life better because he is in it.
