My beautiful vintage typewriter from the 1940’s.
The clunk of the keys.
The slowness of making words.
There was a time when we took pride.
In designing and engineering things to function well and last.
We valued these items.
Decades on people covet them.
I wonder if someone will covet my laptop in 75 years time.
I’m pretty certain it won’t still work.
Neither will parts be available to buy.
A 120 roll of film.
From the days when photography was my prefered medium.
The darkroom, my playground and sanctuary.
Printing is my first love.
Just 12 shots per roll.
Every shot counts.
Film makes you less snap happy.
It encourages you to consider the details.
It’s delayed gratifacation.
Photography taught me see the beauty in the banal.
Beach treasure.
A measure of some sort.
Weathered and worn.
Obscured lettering and beautiful patina.
I wonder where it’s journey started.
What was it used for.
Before it was picked up from a beach in Maine.
Then sent to me by my dearest friend.
To sit on my studio shelf.
Playing catch up. Two weeks at once.
Week 13
My son found 17cm of a tape measure.
He brought it home for me.
He thought I’d like it.
He was right.
It’s pinned to my studio wall.
Better than diamonds.
*this is probably my favourite drawing to date.
Week 14
I use falconry bells as doggy bells at home.
My gorgeous dog Beau rings them when she needs to go out.
At the studio she thinks they are ‘let’s go play’ bells.
I’d never get any work done.
They sit redundant on the side.
I missed a few weeks. Pesky kids and school holidays.
I’ll try to catch up.
A brush. Not just any brush.
My Isinis brush. The best brush for smoothing over backcombing.
I’ve had this over twenty years.
Essential for creating awesome beehive hairdos.
I brought this in to the studio to show my then studio neighbour how to create big hair for her wedding day.
When I was done I picked up a can and sprayed it liberally. The smell was familiar yet not like the hairspray I’d brought with me.
Oops, wrong can. There were no flies on her that day!
A shell sits on the shelf.
Most likely arrived at the studio in one of my son’s pockets.
A small boy’s treasure.
It now sits amongst my beach treasure, some from as far away as Belfast, Maine.
It might one day be reclaimed but more likely is that it will become another small boy’s, or girl’s, treasure.
Until that time it will sit quietly on the shelf.
Sometimes I like to start my day with a spot of painting.
I paint my nails.
Never neglect lip softness. You never know who you might next be kissing.
Studio essentials.
Studio still life.
A few years ago, maybe four or five, I was browsing in Barnardo’s charity shop. There on the shelf lay a bag of threads. Deep earthy colours wrapped around long cardboard tubes. I was doing a lot more sewing at that time. At 99p they had to be mine. I wasn’t sure what type of thread it was or its intended use, I still don’t. But it was thread. Wound on long tubes. Some almost empty. Some fat with silky thread untouched. They were pretty. They sit on the shelf in my studio. Maybe one day they’ll find themselves back in the charity shop. Not yet though. I still harbour intentions to use them……one day……on some sort of stitchery thing.
Fat Hen ANd Flo 