This battered old brown suitcase came from my Mum’s house.
The faint monogram are not initials I recognise.
My Grandad was a dustman. He died before I was born.
My Mum was often the drop off point for the PTA jumble sale.
It is likely this case came into my family after being cast out elsewhere.
I wonder about the owner of the monogrammed case.
Who they were and where they journeyed with this tiny case.
It now lives in my studio filled with books and pens.
My portable nest of creative comfort.
I love card games.
Portable instant fun.
Nearly always easy to learn.
I have lots of old packs of playing cards.
I love the artwork.
I love the battered edges pointing to a game well loved and often played.
I started gathering them with the intention of using them in artwork.
I can’t quite bring myself to use them if the pack is complete.
I chuckle at the thought of beating my neighbours……..
I run an art club in school.
They don’t have any plugs in the art room.
It’s a brand new school. Why no plugs?
I fill a sink with warm soapy water.
The kids think this is the greatest thing.
I am never short of washing up volunteers.
Never underestimate the humble plug.
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.
A pot of random stuff gathering dust on my desk.
A decoupaged Bournville tin.
Hand stamped mantra.
A knackered paintbrush.
Two pens.
A pipe cleaner rose from my son.
A long needle with a bent end in a cardboard wrap.
I’ve no idea of it’s use.
One of many pots filled with stuff around my studio.
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.
Because I’m behind and it was half term I did two.
Week five
Pointed red pepper. I munch on these all the time on the studio. I have to remember to check in the mirror before I go out. I often have a big clown like red stained smile. This one didn’t get eaten and then I was away for a few days with kid lurgies and stuff. It’s slowly shriveling on my desk in the warm sun. I sometimes ponder on the slowness of certain fruits or veggies to decay and worry about what kind of embalming toxins were added to keep them fresh. I’ll enjoy the slow beauty of decay as I didn’t get to eat this whilst it was crunchy and delicious. This is, I think, the first pointed red pepper to be wasted. We all gobble them up like crazy pepper loving fools.
Week six
As it was half term I didn’t draw my stuff, instead I drew stuff I did. It was a random day full of irony and futility.
P.S. I’ve spotted my spelling mistake!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rescued from the rubbish.
A present from my husband.
He knows me so well.
Better than diamonds.
Cigar box heaven.
I’m already using one as a pencil box.
What to do with the others?
Week Two
Here it is, a little late.
This little donkey stands at roughly 2 inches high. He arrived at the studio as a stowaway. I bought an old battered, hand painted tin from a junk shop just around the corner. It caught my eye – I collect tins-but was more than I wanted to pay really. I’d been window shopping on my way back to the studio. But then came the hard sell. The shop owner worked really hard at pointing out all the lovely hand painted quirkiness of the tin. He opened it up and discovered the bonus of a little donkey inside. I didn’t want the donkey. What was I going to do with a donkey. He was putting everything into this sale, it must have been a quiet day so far. How could I walk away? There was no-one else in the shop. I opened my purse and rummaged to find some money.
The tin does get used. It’s full of art journal prompt cards. The donkey stands guard on the bookshelf. I haven’t even given him a name….. I feel bad about that.
Fat Hen ANd Flo 