catching up

Wow, it's been almost two months since I last posted here... where did the time go?  I feel slightly tempted to make an excuse, but luckily for me, I'm still faithfully blogging without obligation.  Rather than bore you with all the busy-ness, I thought it would be nice to share some of the quieter moments of the last couple of months in my part of the world.

Autumn came and went too quickly.  One day there were stunning autumn leaves on my favourite tree, then it rained heavily and they all turned to mush on the ground.  Fortunately I got a photo (I always do).

This tree is a Manchurian Pear, and it's beautiful all year round.  I'm sure I've shared photos of it before.  It's a flowering, not fruiting pear, and in the Spring it is covered in white blossoms and bees, followed by tiny ornamental fruit.

I started a new series of work, and enjoyed seeing the influence of those beautiful stained glass windows at La Sagrada Familia appear in it.  This series is progressing nicely, but slowly.  I have an exhibition in November that I'm working toward (with some lovely and talented friends - more on this in a later post!), so I'm trying to pick up the paintbrush as often as I can.

I did manage to pick up To Kill a Mockingbird though, as I do every five years or so.  I enjoyed it even more than usual because I read and discussed it with a friend, turning down pages on all my favourite parts, those I needed to read again and talk about.  I'm now reading War and Peace for the first time and it is looking well-loved in a similar way.  My reading habits last year seemed to be dominated by non-fiction:  Affluenza, The Art of Non-Conformity, The Last American Man... and others I can't recall at the moment.  It feels good to be enjoying some classic literature again in 2011.

New, large versions of a couple of my favourite prints were added to my etsy shop.  I'm still just as excited every time I send out an order, gift wrapping each one but feeling that that the real gift is mine - I love the thought of my artwork living in homes all over the world, brightening a corner in someone's life.

There's not a great deal of crocheting happening here at the moment, apart from more bunting which will be used for the Jumpers and Jazz in July festival (rapidly approaching!).  I've attempted to begin a new project, a granny square mini skirt to wear over jeans, and I need to get moving on that if I'm going to get to wear it this winter.  I've also got a small sewing project started and will hopefully share that soon!

Speaking of sewing projects, Kirsten sent me a message a little while back to tell me that she had made this art quilt using a design I created for a papercrafting tutorial at a few years ago.  Isn't it beautiful?  I adore this project, and would love to be able to quilt like this!  You can see Kirsten's post about it here, and more of her beautiful work in her flickr photostream and my original paper version here.

ummm... what else?  Music of course.  There's always new music.  Too much to list, really, but I'm a bit infatuated with Felix Riebl (of The Cat Empire) and Ray LaMontagne at the moment, so I need to mention them.  I haven't neglected The Tallest Man on Earth though (who happens to be touring Australia later this year), and I recently emerged from an addiction to Camera Obscura. 

... and poetry.  How have I not heard of Billy Collins until now?  I particularly love this one... I most definitely have a little fishing village with no phones in the southern hemisphere of my brain. 
Bye for now :)


Forgetfulness
by Billy Collins


The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.