tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7280120163165676472024-02-19T14:37:15.472+00:00ilikelichenblogMusings on nature, soul & craftJudehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-18055610383863937892009-05-23T10:58:00.002+01:002009-05-23T11:01:04.930+01:00This blog has moved<span style="font-weight:bold;">I like lichen has now moved over to Wordpress<br /><br />Hope to see you at <br /><a href="http://ilikelichen.wordpress.com">http://ilikelichen.wordpress.com</a></span>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-25722699944980432552009-05-15T11:09:00.009+01:002009-05-15T22:27:22.084+01:00Lessons in the making<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gRjS-L0HWPfZJdK5i8rbRNWxywBT97Rhc2672Of_aGMK89zmubUgYzxGps2zptquqyWjbxCRfMOCBU5IqApZmYY4gsENVQ8xJnkAFuvM-fqGoxo0xNY5Us8h0dKg1wVxTWQaMa2CrnLG/s1600-h/green+scarf.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gRjS-L0HWPfZJdK5i8rbRNWxywBT97Rhc2672Of_aGMK89zmubUgYzxGps2zptquqyWjbxCRfMOCBU5IqApZmYY4gsENVQ8xJnkAFuvM-fqGoxo0xNY5Us8h0dKg1wVxTWQaMa2CrnLG/s400/green+scarf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335992281502225074" /></a><br /><br />After a week locked into endless cycles of painting, wallpapering and trying to get the flat into a presentable form for renting the [last weeks] full moon demands I stop and absorb myself in something soulful. I had promised myself this time each month and in these moon days the merino tops have been singing a symphony of raspberry, olive greens with an undertone of chocolate browns leaving me both hungry and thirsty for some felting. <br /><br />The dying process has become a ritual: lift the box from under the counter unpacking the red chipped enamel pot and the dying towel which holds a history of all the colours I’ve created unlike the stirring spoon whose colours have all merged to form a sludgy mud hue. <br />When it comes to dying I’m a gambler. No charts or weighing just the random science of sprinkling. The more sprinkling involved the bigger the piece of felt to be dyed as I know it will be hard to reach that exact shade again. While I’ve been using powdered acid dyes I can’t ignore the calling to move over to natural dyes and gather lichens and bark and crush and pummel. <br /><br />I love the initial swirl in which the colour lies briefly in cloudy wisps before dissolving into a uniformed colour. There is magic in submerging pristine white wool and to see that initial shade take hold. If the wool simmers for half an hour or so it will fully absorb all of the dye leaving the water clear. The smell of soaked wool is somehow comforting, then a shot or two of vinegar before a quick rinse and a gentle squeeze before the wool is hung up on a makeshift line across the bath, transformed into a line of prayer flags. <br /><br />I’d been thinking how I approached craft after reading interviews of artists approaching that 'space' as sacred. The mornings soundtrack a collection of Celtic chants had helped lull me into that space as I prepared everything for the days work. <br />I concentrated deeper and deeper on the words as the chiffon was laid out and the felt cut, checked and rechecked that each layer got thoroughly soaked in water. <br />A gentle observational stage by which the fibre has soaked up around three litres of water. Drops sit heavy on the surface like jewels. I pat in the water encouraging the fibres to soak up the last of the moisture so by now it’s so heavy that when it’s flipped over to the other side everything stays in place. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6Rye4kk4ExxF6imAhlw_nyXH1cA_I6iV22vM_cVGoFnrln101XyvkyswYCNkL5BbMWC47zrIxjZ0GCFSJ7HC_r_Z3HtEpUo_Pi7uvo_m38qkZk0drzGbrVg26R7WU7NX0X8amqAwbE5S/s1600-h/cerise.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6Rye4kk4ExxF6imAhlw_nyXH1cA_I6iV22vM_cVGoFnrln101XyvkyswYCNkL5BbMWC47zrIxjZ0GCFSJ7HC_r_Z3HtEpUo_Pi7uvo_m38qkZk0drzGbrVg26R7WU7NX0X8amqAwbE5S/s400/cerise.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335999500658451410" /></a><br /><br />I apply a little soap, its only part to help to lubricate the microscopic barbs of the wool as they lock into place with the manipulation of force. I begin gently rubbing the surface with a small piece of bubble wrap to encourage an initial felting so it holds together before the rolling begins. <br />I find that craft only initiates a certain quality of mind when it’s approached in a certain way. With the Celtic chants of old Irish swirling around me I feel a connection in the sway of the work, the repetitive rhythms which they must have made in daily life. The chants exist as an expression of yourself, yet also as an expression of the land. I remember my roots, the paths taken from Ireland to bring my family here. The ancestors now in other world’s come to mind and somehow I feel this space exists between worlds and I can exist here helped by the meditative quality of rocking the rolled felt back and forth. <br />I can never quite muster the strength through arms alone to felt this stage and so I remove the 4 foot long tube onto the kitchen floor and use my feet to apply a steady pressure. It seems it’s the only time that the kitchen floor gets a real washing. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6kqRrVnuwNV7SISGhWFWB77X77QSMKXmJtAvx8ZpOLCeWamgiU2AZ2h2mdS5lDspENYoWOCgduUNOsDqlG23EHz6n8YTFWlN7HpyY5UjA-C7YjX3E1Hd5G9MF12UPfJcTi2GA1Cs2lsL/s1600-h/feet+felting.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6kqRrVnuwNV7SISGhWFWB77X77QSMKXmJtAvx8ZpOLCeWamgiU2AZ2h2mdS5lDspENYoWOCgduUNOsDqlG23EHz6n8YTFWlN7HpyY5UjA-C7YjX3E1Hd5G9MF12UPfJcTi2GA1Cs2lsL/s400/feet+felting.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335992652824781986" /></a><br /><br />Tipping the rolled up felt into the sink I pour out a couple of litres of water, unfurling the felt I pinch the surface slightly to test of the fibres have felted, satisfyingly they lift together. I approach unrolling the felt with an open mind. With this type of process you can never plan exactly what is going to happen, there is always an element of chance, of magic. It’s meeting this without preconceived ideas, giving over to the process. The process offers metamorphoses. I pull away the bubble wrap layers, the towel and old blind which is used as a roller this process mirroring nature the unfurling greenness and underneath my fingers green merges, dissolving into brown – like the outside season, a cycle re-enacted another chance for lessons to be learnt. <br /><br />In these days of too much computer work and repetitive arm injuries I have to admit I have one more transforming process which somehow knocks out the magic but holds the same excitement in how the item turns out, my secret ingredient - the washing machine! The hours it’s saved mankind in beating clothes off rocks and saving felters arms for a few more scarves! <br /><br />Everything is looking good and so I trim the felt fingers down ensuring they are in proportion with the weight and sit of the scarf. I often throw it into the machine to felt up those slightly frayed edges (that no one would actually know could do with a slight refelt). This is the final shape shifting where the trickster often rears their head. Unpredictable things happen like scarf wildly shrinking or the fabric pulling off in a new direction and yet it calls for an almost Buddhist like non attachment, a letting go of preconceived ideas. And yet when it does emerge from it’s tumble at 16,000 revs per min (or whatever that number stands for) a changed scarf this is where the ingenuity lies. Of attaching poppers and buttons and positioning it just so – so it looks like this was the planned for garment all along!Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-90118680198442944042009-05-09T12:56:00.006+01:002009-05-09T13:16:53.545+01:00And the (giveaway) winner is...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSKJCqBKLj8_hq52w0GJKLeWdh8IL-AORA2wrQo-u-gy_ohuOqUuOmO4Yh9dbz9rwqFS99w_nSMTAGp8OuUThst9s8qe3K6-Rmt_m3zNgXyfjbFEzr8NbAYbSeIOJHLg392TxPjTeBmGPD/s1600-h/sue+selecting+winner+mos.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSKJCqBKLj8_hq52w0GJKLeWdh8IL-AORA2wrQo-u-gy_ohuOqUuOmO4Yh9dbz9rwqFS99w_nSMTAGp8OuUThst9s8qe3K6-Rmt_m3zNgXyfjbFEzr8NbAYbSeIOJHLg392TxPjTeBmGPD/s400/sue+selecting+winner+mos.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333792496457051058" /></a><br /><br />My random winner decider for the giveaway is Sue, a very willing adjudicator. I wrapped the participant names up in paper scrunched round a dog bisciut. Sue gave careful snuffled consideration to each entry before crunching her final selection who was Kitty. She then celebrated Kitty's win by eating all the other contestants. <br /><br />Kitty contact me with your address and i'll post it out to you. <br /><br />I'm enjoying a lazy saturday, visa forms are posted off as I await my interview date from the American Consulate in London. And to a taste of my new life in the States, here's a wonderful picture of the inside of my fiances truck, brilliant! <br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dodgebus/3514426518/"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dodgebus/3514426518/"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3YNy-_NT8XKRLvO_bT6v-5kS-clQp4ICgXVleXAKkzFC2u5quwR7fLhrXAEDspw6xGJbsZHvY7m_WwOzgju6Qd57V0fxDNOhJfXjsrRs1yEMNTw5WHUyZYfy_KJOHUAS4o1sCCHoczgbD/s1600-h/dan+truck.com"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3YNy-_NT8XKRLvO_bT6v-5kS-clQp4ICgXVleXAKkzFC2u5quwR7fLhrXAEDspw6xGJbsZHvY7m_WwOzgju6Qd57V0fxDNOhJfXjsrRs1yEMNTw5WHUyZYfy_KJOHUAS4o1sCCHoczgbD/s400/dan+truck.com" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333795185627235570" /></a></a></a>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-75592075669610326582009-05-04T18:12:00.004+01:002009-05-04T18:17:22.714+01:00Ancient Celtic Teachings<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xIamqDvX1lIaSZHVgHirZ-6weJToe2JmcHP6tkFNqUyq1wTzGFx7PaUTR5j6TSriBlpxyjrhbbf6KHr6cq0sOELfz2eCrG9eK9CmspdKqJSeCeeSqQXVyomo3Bm_ei3K4pqYnuISyoL4/s1600-h/mist.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xIamqDvX1lIaSZHVgHirZ-6weJToe2JmcHP6tkFNqUyq1wTzGFx7PaUTR5j6TSriBlpxyjrhbbf6KHr6cq0sOELfz2eCrG9eK9CmspdKqJSeCeeSqQXVyomo3Bm_ei3K4pqYnuISyoL4/s400/mist.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332018893619442914" /></a><br /><br />I love days like this. The hills are enveloped in mist and the trees sing as the wind blows through them. It's as if the heavens have came down to earth bringing the gods and goddesses to reside once more, as they have always done, in the hills and the stones and all living things. <br /><br />I have felt so lost over the last few weeks and while on paper I could map my connection to the world in practise I have somehow unwittingly created a dam. That dam is built from letting myself get irritated by the petty details, eating crappy food washed down with even crappier TV. <br /><br />I need to sit down beside myself, lay out how I wish to live life and have all facets of me sign up to that contract. It's easy enough to submerge yourself in workshops and retreats but today it's holding on to what you've discovered and not let it become diluted with so many distractions. <br /><br />I've hopped on one leg and sang Cherokee waking songs, I've survived 5 hour sweatlodges and danced all night around roaring Pagan fires but somehow those insights fizzle out. I need one focus, the help of a tradition to see the way. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">'What happens to a culture without a living mythology is that it gets <br />addicted to whatever numbs the pain of archetypal starvation and the vacuum of meaning' Suzi Gablik – The Reenchantment of Art</span><br /><br />Yesterday I participated in a workshop at St Mungo's museum, lead by FionTulah, head of the <a href="http://www.ceilede.co.uk/">Ceile De</a> order. The afternoon was based around chants called <a href="http://www.ceilede.co.uk/the_fonn.htm">Fonn</a> which exists as a song or chant but also describes a state of mind, and of the land itself. She explained that the fuinn work on different levels, harmonising the parts of us which relate to the siritual, otherworldly and the physical.<br /><br />I've experienced chants and meditations of various cultures but even though I don't speak Gaelic it feels like a link to my Scottish and Irish ancestors. I feel I am participating in something that they were part of, I am touching a living tradition. While the words might be unfamiliar the Ceile de's vision of the world is oh so familiar. <br />Caim agus Corrach translates as Grace and Coracle. I'm familiar with my dad talking about how to make a Corricle and can almost smell the tar pot used to paint the skin. As Fion explained there are many instances in mythology of people being set out (often banished) in a coracle with no oars left to the mercy of the prevailing winds. <br />But within this small chant lay what I needed. On that day Fiontullach was most definitely my Anam Cara (soul friend) prescribing the Fonn my heart and soul needed. Grace is envisaged as the space around you, an aura, the expanse of the soul carrying the body, not the body carrying the soul. It is your state of mind rooted in spirit and not on outwardly fleeting external 'things'. <br /><br />The coracle is your journey through uncharted space, so that even when you may feel lost and unsure in life you must be grounded in yourself, and understand you are exactly where you need to be and to try and appreciate the uncertainty. <br />And in the chanting of those words I realised that while I had scoured the volumes of Carmina Gadelica for references to the Goddess Bhrighde nothing can compare to having those stories read to you. The full power of the myth evokes images, you are placed in an unbroken linage with the truths and the energy resonating inside.<br />This is the paper on which I'm writing that contract to myself, the roots which I hope will continue to stretch out and keep me balanced.Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-493178343126443352009-05-01T21:41:00.020+01:002009-05-01T22:35:38.753+01:00Conversation with Aileen Clarke<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI68wH-xJwdenwg6hxODXnDJkdGLukH4WXdF07rAJ3USJF8BKJOdsw4pNUYFzSkQvBhycoSp6HOzuXHpxJ8OZpXbz9Du-ybiIVNiu_D917hODdnz4hlqRY_pgfCop0s6kmPXI9I5aycEDF/s1600-h/moon.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 228px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI68wH-xJwdenwg6hxODXnDJkdGLukH4WXdF07rAJ3USJF8BKJOdsw4pNUYFzSkQvBhycoSp6HOzuXHpxJ8OZpXbz9Du-ybiIVNiu_D917hODdnz4hlqRY_pgfCop0s6kmPXI9I5aycEDF/s320/moon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330972068381341922" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgE7wpD5D4pr3wwmd_EVRpaXi9vyLDG1C7wP5dNcT3JgnaPzjO6aPRvlE4sEpuKI939DhflvpfjAbvZi2m3sw8KX42luXelhPmT5SNoa4x9WS1EBoY_Bf3XM06DM1-w_18B75rYRBhJll/s1600-h/misty+glen.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgE7wpD5D4pr3wwmd_EVRpaXi9vyLDG1C7wP5dNcT3JgnaPzjO6aPRvlE4sEpuKI939DhflvpfjAbvZi2m3sw8KX42luXelhPmT5SNoa4x9WS1EBoY_Bf3XM06DM1-w_18B75rYRBhJll/s320/misty+glen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330971891637579314" /></a><br /><br />I came across Aileen's work on Flickr and was quickly sucked into her luscious coloured Scottish Landscapes. Her Croft scenes reminded me of staying in bothy's in wild and beautiful landscapes and of camping by the shore under moonlit skies. Enjoy some musings with Aileen over virtual coffee. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I was really drawn to your needle felted landscapes, especially your use of colour. Why would you say nature features so predominately in your work?</span><br /><br />Having spent most of my life living in the countryside and visiting the west coast of Scotland on holidays, I found that when I went to college for four years and lived in a city, I just couldn't function properly. I found the city so uninspiring and when I took off to do a bit of back packing I subconsciously headed west. I found myself on the outer Islands of Scotland and the west coast of Ireland and that's where I felt most at peace, most inspired and rejuvenated. The colours I use in my work probably reflect my affinity for the sea, the sky, the beauty of a sunset etc. And my use of vibrant colour in other pieces might reflect my sense of fun and my sociable nature.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWHuFAMIVTfRW2OQDvoP518okfHNB-RcTdA6QIezNvjT_4jBeB2gPruKiIXXMUfhNSZcR5EjdPSW72mWdN7ucYdk1lM-89psYPqv07MP1iIr9mG3-UQuqCz9xtL4NRC_MtB95QqhIb51c/s1600-h/Highland+Coo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWHuFAMIVTfRW2OQDvoP518okfHNB-RcTdA6QIezNvjT_4jBeB2gPruKiIXXMUfhNSZcR5EjdPSW72mWdN7ucYdk1lM-89psYPqv07MP1iIr9mG3-UQuqCz9xtL4NRC_MtB95QqhIb51c/s320/Highland+Coo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330961697624256850" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What inspires you, that you couldn’t you live without?</span><br /><br />Being surrounded by trees and greenery and our visits to the west coast.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Is the source of the materials you use important? Environmental factors such as dyes used, the source of the wool?</span><br /><br />As I become more interested in felt, fibres and yarns I find myself wanting to know more about natural dyes and sources of wool. I'd love to experiment with dyes myself and make them from what I can find in the garden and in the woods. I get given a lot of bits and pieces from friends and family that know I can reuse a lot of old garments etc so there is an element of recycling going on in my work.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Being a wonderfully creative person can you explain what creativity is in terms of what it means to you?</span><br /><br />Creativity to me is the inbuilt intuition to do something artistc and make things beautiful. To express oneself in a way that appeals to other peoples sensitive sides. It may be that people express themselves creatively through music and song, through theatre and dance, through writing, gardening, decorating, whatever. When people get in touch with their creative side they experience joy and self satisfaction. I feel very blessed to be so naturally creative though it took me years to understand that it is more than just a hobby or a pass time to be making and creating. Having some sort of creative outlet is a need. Trying to stop that flow of creativity would be like piling up stones in the path of a stream. The stream would still find a way to flow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheFcMqVZeHuaoWFJJINZ0ehchNtQZbLbv4I_iAfQ2syhVCrd9e_QO00uIU-TtiGk_GvvHGfdz4gV2LtbtIV5PxSqkwEc-KRD-_iq11EjrM_bfGCyAKhY_dd7JDXEbO3P0PVj7Hzr2Ch_WF/s1600-h/Hazy+Purple+Mountains.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheFcMqVZeHuaoWFJJINZ0ehchNtQZbLbv4I_iAfQ2syhVCrd9e_QO00uIU-TtiGk_GvvHGfdz4gV2LtbtIV5PxSqkwEc-KRD-_iq11EjrM_bfGCyAKhY_dd7JDXEbO3P0PVj7Hzr2Ch_WF/s320/Hazy+Purple+Mountains.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330961797622063890" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">When you consider the issues that western society faces do you feel creativity has anything to offer as an antidote?</span><br /><br />There are many great projects going on that help people overcome difficulties and problems through creativity but the only antidote for society today is to stop and think and see the blatant greed and corruption going on all around them. I've never been one to make big statements through my work though.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Do you think craft has anything to offer in a spiritual connection? (for eg a connection to the spirit of a place or entering a meditative zone in repetitive work?)</span><br /><br />I know that some people do feel a sense of fulfillment spiritually when they get right into whatever they are creating. I don't feel that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_xtg8sQ-RR42Evqn6nV8m3ymRO66w3Q5PCYM-fC1AE-gJt3EtkU7g8NQGPwopGg9ONxtlNve50xmAP1YDz4uw32nRedE-MADBZycGB38fRppNefsWza9VKcS8dSMb_CnoyZX4u2ru3w3/s1600-h/Machair.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_xtg8sQ-RR42Evqn6nV8m3ymRO66w3Q5PCYM-fC1AE-gJt3EtkU7g8NQGPwopGg9ONxtlNve50xmAP1YDz4uw32nRedE-MADBZycGB38fRppNefsWza9VKcS8dSMb_CnoyZX4u2ru3w3/s320/Machair.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330961965766038034" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Who is inspiring you right now (eg blogs/flickr)</span><br /><br />I find the whole online crafting community a great inspiration. Living in a rural area I could be quite cut off from the creative world but following craft blogs and flickr groups keeps me fired up with new techniques and materials to try and of course the feedback is tremendous.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br /><br />‘Disasters or experiments? What’s your attitude when it all goes wrong?</span><br /><br />I love getting time to experiment. Just go with the flow and see what happens. I don't like wasting time though. I have two children and a house to keep (as do most!) and as my business grows I need to be making the best use of my time. Some disasters can be chopped up and used in another way and sometimes a thing doesn't turn out the way I want but something useful may be learned. I just don't like waste though. I'd hate to be using lots of nice materials and the piece turn out to be no good.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVCkrmhlNVPIqd43_zB5N4IVDdDCm2knTn9f_uvXoBCORKR_SFABZ8Rp4k_-1hdVdKiDBqSSQ1yhOFHO3mGr8mgtF6AU6paoYtdSUi_Ly6OFZnpGfFh4f7DwPKLFP1pyeadMlIN92Qc7X/s1600-h/Skye+Boat.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 315px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVCkrmhlNVPIqd43_zB5N4IVDdDCm2knTn9f_uvXoBCORKR_SFABZ8Rp4k_-1hdVdKiDBqSSQ1yhOFHO3mGr8mgtF6AU6paoYtdSUi_Ly6OFZnpGfFh4f7DwPKLFP1pyeadMlIN92Qc7X/s320/Skye+Boat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330961489046227666" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I’m nosey – would you share a picture of your workspace or something you’re working on?</span><br /><br />My work space is a cubbie hole behind the stairs which is full to bursting point and I more often than not end up working at the kitchen table.<br />At the moment I am working on some textile seascapes for a new gallery opening in Johnshaven in May and some felt jewellery for a craft fair in St Andrews town hall on May 16th.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfhgZhL4PHZ8JmMFC3SMRHKf79rOKWY1e5fwHYPBwOM7zplSRQi92JWTtr2hX_VKF3_maatMkKnHtI4bztrLm3qPwqdeSSLyrCXZIKOW-96-ca6BHV_z2_pUubD4gOQMv5lRO72k2nNJB/s1600-h/My+Work+Space.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfhgZhL4PHZ8JmMFC3SMRHKf79rOKWY1e5fwHYPBwOM7zplSRQi92JWTtr2hX_VKF3_maatMkKnHtI4bztrLm3qPwqdeSSLyrCXZIKOW-96-ca6BHV_z2_pUubD4gOQMv5lRO72k2nNJB/s320/My+Work+Space.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330962356679978178" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.aileenclarkecrafts.blogspot.com/">Blog</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.folksy.com/shops/AileenClarkeCrafts">Folksy</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/aileenclarke/">Flickr</a>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-83947726976335669132009-04-30T23:57:00.004+01:002009-05-01T00:08:03.225+01:00Giveaway (ring not dog)<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/buddhaseed/3489758376/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3653/3489758376_61686eb56f_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/buddhaseed/3489758376/">Blog giveaway</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/buddhaseed/">buddha seed</a></span></div><br clear="all" /><br /><br /><br />Somehow i've been caught in this strange twilight of 'grrr' all week, much like the snarl of my Jack Russell when anyone dangles a hand anywhere near her. <br /><br />Dan called this morning just as I was getting up, and him heading to bed (in the states) and I could hear coyotes howling their strange and eerie song in the background. Whether domisticated or wild - dogs aye make me smile.<br /><br />So i thought i'd offer a giveaway. A ring that is, not small dog or Dan - the postage for either would be way too expensive. A giveaway of an 'organza bubble ring' so just share whatever it is that will always make you smile when your feeling 'grrrrrrrrr'.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwMmLpxPurZoMtfyM79BO8ciRQOZuO3pDYWBIzdGY2SPxA1Dgc1-S0F0DJFkshPOM3V35CmnJpzA1__0zbCl6_K59uURAaWqrnpDN72jmgAVx_v_nm2I67wULCoKF_D6Mr0b7RDxGPCsO/s1600-h/green+dog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwMmLpxPurZoMtfyM79BO8ciRQOZuO3pDYWBIzdGY2SPxA1Dgc1-S0F0DJFkshPOM3V35CmnJpzA1__0zbCl6_K59uURAaWqrnpDN72jmgAVx_v_nm2I67wULCoKF_D6Mr0b7RDxGPCsO/s320/green+dog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330624421191023554" /></a>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-6709538768016974752009-04-18T21:39:00.007+01:002009-04-19T07:07:45.958+01:00A ring for every occasion<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEGnCPnE45x01DFfdpOR7XSPQY2gAZNdcBv6OuqDzmmkodqew6VP3LuRDqUDKGHq6rnlwXLledL_8iYZpsXlHt3O_nYADqe8fWCQOiNo49VkOZLPyFVlbAdu3xSKeithKWFyLA84rIzkc/s1600-h/botan+pod.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEGnCPnE45x01DFfdpOR7XSPQY2gAZNdcBv6OuqDzmmkodqew6VP3LuRDqUDKGHq6rnlwXLledL_8iYZpsXlHt3O_nYADqe8fWCQOiNo49VkOZLPyFVlbAdu3xSKeithKWFyLA84rIzkc/s320/botan+pod.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326133899281589650" /></a>
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<br />Got my ‘handfasting/enagaement/wedding’ ring in the post yesterday – I absolutely love it! The design is inspired by the seed pod of the tree peony, which dries black and opens to show it’s seeds.
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<br />It's made by Sophie of Duck Duck Goose Stuff – check her out on Etsy <a href="http://www.duckduckgoosestuff.etsy.com">http://www.duckduckgoosestuff.etsy.com</a> where you’ll find moon rocks, earthed lightning, moon pools, alien inspired wonders and fantastically she’s a lichen gal – making silver lichen inspired pieces!
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<br />I’m loving rings, I like working on such a small scale – and hate to admit there’s something about a quick fix of satisfaction going on.... Here's some i've been working on, I've got a couple on sale on <a href="http://www.ilikelichen.etsy.com">Etsy</a>. Thanks Lesley for the hand modelling!
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifkWN8sbh8rdbHat447CbbT-aD0sGA3RRU2khfjaORaH_tLyc23V8UdHwO2rYRwb6Fn2_7UjpDCsf2eY1lGr-cgGFR6KQJdRPI2GACDNBeWgmSlcJnSttZTi81e8AhkDa2gzKSUex1FqV-/s1600-h/all+rings+in+bowl.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifkWN8sbh8rdbHat447CbbT-aD0sGA3RRU2khfjaORaH_tLyc23V8UdHwO2rYRwb6Fn2_7UjpDCsf2eY1lGr-cgGFR6KQJdRPI2GACDNBeWgmSlcJnSttZTi81e8AhkDa2gzKSUex1FqV-/s320/all+rings+in+bowl.JPG" border="0"
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lZVcIgvONs7GM1mCOv5J6eom_S_Leys1GY5KHOzI-GTf6Lk4LfWuHv_d4LOvOD5pCDak1EJWwwa1a9TJz6Q44hhTt48gXUvyGUgtoQ7dpkJOs0YgP2FwRpXstJamMjrpb0yFNdcdXdRF/s1600-h/pink+lichen.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lZVcIgvONs7GM1mCOv5J6eom_S_Leys1GY5KHOzI-GTf6Lk4LfWuHv_d4LOvOD5pCDak1EJWwwa1a9TJz6Q44hhTt48gXUvyGUgtoQ7dpkJOs0YgP2FwRpXstJamMjrpb0yFNdcdXdRF/s320/pink+lichen.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326134423435934610" /></a>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggP0zowfX43tmfxhQUlZjHUGHpORqeuRg9ZtfPx3V0M_7W90_u7tDLYN2xArhuq0HI0RBiiVpgLZ0PjFuzTM758-9h0ggsLS9TDFLvAc56m9PuHAilPPSy0ryum7kEEJE7OFADC36_NVIP/s1600-h/black+ring+2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggP0zowfX43tmfxhQUlZjHUGHpORqeuRg9ZtfPx3V0M_7W90_u7tDLYN2xArhuq0HI0RBiiVpgLZ0PjFuzTM758-9h0ggsLS9TDFLvAc56m9PuHAilPPSy0ryum7kEEJE7OFADC36_NVIP/s320/black+ring+2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326134669825505042" /></a>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3UeC18J6hd10d5pWHkMb61QFRXhsd6Dhfrj-1jKxCSF70CTpTBqB3zKxnuiwae-67CMJewh1fkvxP0b_HuA1k6y-lNlAkLKi7yn_t2haKoh3Dnpjg0xvWtAOXZJi5i_6qntuMUTkEfiR/s1600-h/organza+ring.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3UeC18J6hd10d5pWHkMb61QFRXhsd6Dhfrj-1jKxCSF70CTpTBqB3zKxnuiwae-67CMJewh1fkvxP0b_HuA1k6y-lNlAkLKi7yn_t2haKoh3Dnpjg0xvWtAOXZJi5i_6qntuMUTkEfiR/s320/organza+ring.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326135584729061922" /></a>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiQteGe-OTNG0NyMYPJxJQCcKmWEC10V6lqQ4vyb5IcDDX84IG7JYag5-SNShGE-Gz8R0HbBOwLXQsA8D479YE7tDWp4WyWO2h9_SBbZAXD72kFA8NsvBZNHMIH4hV7lzmWZbqB97zOwt/s1600-h/DSC_0287.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiQteGe-OTNG0NyMYPJxJQCcKmWEC10V6lqQ4vyb5IcDDX84IG7JYag5-SNShGE-Gz8R0HbBOwLXQsA8D479YE7tDWp4WyWO2h9_SBbZAXD72kFA8NsvBZNHMIH4hV7lzmWZbqB97zOwt/s320/DSC_0287.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326135114698661250" /></a>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-73287936967359152462009-04-15T18:51:00.008+01:002009-04-15T19:21:46.123+01:00A Time Out of Time (Mid Week Muse)<a href="http://alexgrey.net/img/vajrabeing.jpg"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSG9v1JDW6YkHy5TEZGG1MwZRR76BSZh7qc38EBD1a1pIIldxkeFXCQ_0rbakGiEdeFXQYSHH-IUrVn5QQzHLnYBze8aU-rc7SkHLMa_0kdi22eXqJozx2t5PMelZbJCAfmytv5hlGz_U/s1600-h/vajrabeing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSG9v1JDW6YkHy5TEZGG1MwZRR76BSZh7qc38EBD1a1pIIldxkeFXCQ_0rbakGiEdeFXQYSHH-IUrVn5QQzHLnYBze8aU-rc7SkHLMa_0kdi22eXqJozx2t5PMelZbJCAfmytv5hlGz_U/s320/vajrabeing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324984386158236994" /></a></a><br /><br />It is that time of the month, a time that somehow exists out of time. My dreams so much more powerful and I’ve found on waking I’m still in their grip of their emotions. <br /><br />My brother waved to me a few nights ago – before careering off in a 4x4 with that mischievous laugh of his, which I took as his saying, don’t worry I’m ok here (in that place beyond time). The next morning I cautiously looked to the park to see if it was churned up with tyre marks! <br /><br />A few mornings ago I awoke still wrapped in the painful sorrow of my grandmother’s death (who died over 15 years ago). Her message seemed to lie in the several curious shaped boxes she left me. I remember so clearly running my fingers over their luscious olive green velvet. Shaped exactly to fit the tools that they held, old and well loved, their exact shape and detail has faded but a feeling lingers that somehow those tools are mine, that I’ve to pick them up, hold then in my hands, learn with them and call them mine. <br /><br />I’ve come to appreciate this time each month as a time where ugly truths rear their head for the picking, like garden flowers with snake heads. With senses keen and claws sharpened I don’t suffer fools but become one stripping layers from the ones I love. At this time my heart blooms to encompass the entire world before the current changes I fall, plunging into cavernous caves of bottomless heartache. But still I wouldn’t forgo this time ~ when spirits whisper and the world reveals itself in its multi layered iridescent, back and rainbow coloured layers. <br /><br />For all those who lived before me I give thanks. To have the strength to smile and wave at my brother and follow the trail of wisdom of my grandmother.<br /><br />I remember her presence with me on a wilderness solo in Knoydart when she sat beside me reminding me that I am a modern ancestor. It is my chance in the long line to breathe and to have me feet firmly placed on the soil of this planet. To dream my dreams and strive for that role which moulds me and in turn may offer a little space for others to explore. And for all this, I am eternally grateful. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHe2vzHeNuMOVvstDV2pL1KAfAxZ5HlHbvsXd7Hz8hVK-a0issqGq3PSwNbry1lMjYrUrK8NEWwOfBZJlZ70lL8PbjZlK007A0I7D6IzwRoIsduicaM-uDATU2LCp5UWH2UvbqBu2zwF1/s1600-h/ancestor+pot.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHe2vzHeNuMOVvstDV2pL1KAfAxZ5HlHbvsXd7Hz8hVK-a0issqGq3PSwNbry1lMjYrUrK8NEWwOfBZJlZ70lL8PbjZlK007A0I7D6IzwRoIsduicaM-uDATU2LCp5UWH2UvbqBu2zwF1/s320/ancestor+pot.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324978785876775826" /></a><br /><br /> <a href="http://beates-fabric-art.blogspot.com/2009/02/ancestors-pot-tutorial-in-english-is.html"> Messages with the dead ~ Ancestor pot</a>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-31908076425302518282009-04-09T10:29:00.013+01:002009-04-09T12:07:51.208+01:00Mid week muse (random inspirations)Mid week is generally a wednesday i guess but having been off work for almost 3 weeks now i don't really know when mid week is. <br />I think my random inspirations this week aren't all that random and could be woven together with a mythological thread. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfF2GtML7H8rFrohaSsyRlSjhryKgyvOyvxkC2fOlCPbzsshHhJCwIy7Ha-mXt3k2hb6Ghyphenhyphen1OhOo22vbMguP-faNBhT9u8gQCSPufomD2nPr_VKjGIKcYK2IdDMB61x5QVbW7UhT-xYBIM/s1600-h/mosaic7264860.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfF2GtML7H8rFrohaSsyRlSjhryKgyvOyvxkC2fOlCPbzsshHhJCwIy7Ha-mXt3k2hb6Ghyphenhyphen1OhOo22vbMguP-faNBhT9u8gQCSPufomD2nPr_VKjGIKcYK2IdDMB61x5QVbW7UhT-xYBIM/s320/mosaic7264860.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322639407283840226" /></a><br /><br />Myth is the language of the soul, it allows fantastical beasts and a charade of characters the means to manifest. While their stories might not be strictly true they hold truth within them. The magical key to unlocking them is belief, as when a story resonates it talks directly to something deep inside of us. Without that deep resonance and interpreation the learning the myth offers cannot be unlocked, a process which the great Joseph Campbell explains creates a harmony in the universe. Why? Because we are literally learning from that great source that lies beyond the human world. <br /><br />These stories however are not something ancient to be held preciously and handled with white gloves as they are alive and constantly morphing. The story of our own everyday lives creates our personal myth. One way to explore myths and their truths is by using our hands ~ wither squelching in clay, or working with wool or wood or using our unique eye to paint or take photos. Using local materials or stories of place can help us understand what truths lie within them. Yet it doesn't matter if the myth is Russian, Sami or Aboriginal as it's the connection that matters. <br /><br /><br />Personally Baba Yaga never fails to terrify me - what learning beckons there? I can't quite face putting up a pic of her!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/29798416@N08/3389397930/in/set-72157607386278761/">Morchella esculenta Mushroom photographed by Funginerd</a><br />Shamen - Felted peice from khazekstan<br /><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=22230178">Baba Yaga's Chicken legged House created by Melissa Sue</a><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/buddhaseed/3401675299/">Three faces of the Goddess </a>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-90113810194041366192009-04-04T06:02:00.017+01:002009-04-04T09:24:17.154+01:00All about the nose<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMUrAw_fqJeusC6bpn4Rs_IbIvbAZIc-O8Mvcq_4bteUmLzB67ai0WTTHoy32lm0jKKA5d9YXkRZXLFhW9WNua-2OAaaIoEa2Pfy13fSxX721TWKi34VD9ACsDpHkxVY0KhWzhTJ84icaX/s1600-h/AnimalNoses.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 209px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMUrAw_fqJeusC6bpn4Rs_IbIvbAZIc-O8Mvcq_4bteUmLzB67ai0WTTHoy32lm0jKKA5d9YXkRZXLFhW9WNua-2OAaaIoEa2Pfy13fSxX721TWKi34VD9ACsDpHkxVY0KhWzhTJ84icaX/s320/AnimalNoses.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320710766460571618" /></a><br /><br />Yesterday for the first time in about a year I was able to smell! It was expected after an operation that left me reeling from the anaesthetic rather than the op itself. But sinus are now clear, polyps gone and awaiting the combination of both smell and taste! <br /><br />I had ran up 4 flights of stairs and yucked that someone had had a sneaky cigarette - then suddenly realised i <span style="font-weight:bold;">SMELLED </span>something! Then was overjoyed to realise small dog <span style="font-weight:bold;">STANK</span> desperately needed a bath! It was just fantastic that the bin in the kitchen was just <span style="font-weight:bold;">GROSS!</span> <br />I curiously went round the flat smelling each room - it was like breaking in to someone else's house. Strangest of all was smelling my hair and my jacket - I had no idea what I smelled like. Very strange to be unfamiliar with yourself. <br /><br />With the operation and all i've been neglecting this blog some. And so in celebration of my new found sense of smell (I can't taste either but somehow smell is so much more exciting), here are my favourite things to smell: <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRn34Qvy9Z2e06cgc3Z8KZrNTtAeATqzGpB2aHNXMI7BHXcY2Ma5Sm-RYHJVld7dkHY1NrJYG2qrmYCLz4Nz9IrlRLZqP8evHZ0dad-3YUG7_ietqQjqIlJtggjKabKFSfu3IzeT7yD_h1/s1600-h/+++.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRn34Qvy9Z2e06cgc3Z8KZrNTtAeATqzGpB2aHNXMI7BHXcY2Ma5Sm-RYHJVld7dkHY1NrJYG2qrmYCLz4Nz9IrlRLZqP8evHZ0dad-3YUG7_ietqQjqIlJtggjKabKFSfu3IzeT7yD_h1/s320/+++.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320706866713266434" /></a><br /> Dan (and coffee!) <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjxeb2dxNPmtxBNKG8aV56Zrngs3r9WUA7hBy3Iz9qbaIL6Ub4cUoUsChwMM5nvlafOZlN-m21_N8FEtnjDoFyWskroCpCUhZK3zoWTS5SeSwRtXfxR86afCial0VTkYE6X9xnMpXUpFAf/s1600-h/lichen+brooch.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjxeb2dxNPmtxBNKG8aV56Zrngs3r9WUA7hBy3Iz9qbaIL6Ub4cUoUsChwMM5nvlafOZlN-m21_N8FEtnjDoFyWskroCpCUhZK3zoWTS5SeSwRtXfxR86afCial0VTkYE6X9xnMpXUpFAf/s320/lichen+brooch.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320748549138789090" /></a><br /> Wet wool when felting<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWfkiQ6DFrTaEuU4S-MJfQhlOHHdj2Z2Mg-P1SaUuMfxnada_Dv2QK3ZjJnQVJyMnQvprC_ZMX_hXtSSKJHZhgYj6EgPrtsS5pSQ2TtjNG9kLzdS9dQBQCRo7yOXe4Ai1ykucBlPq_GrJB/s1600-h/woodburning+stove.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 307px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWfkiQ6DFrTaEuU4S-MJfQhlOHHdj2Z2Mg-P1SaUuMfxnada_Dv2QK3ZjJnQVJyMnQvprC_ZMX_hXtSSKJHZhgYj6EgPrtsS5pSQ2TtjNG9kLzdS9dQBQCRo7yOXe4Ai1ykucBlPq_GrJB/s320/woodburning+stove.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320708237069438530" /></a><br /> Woodsmoke - preferably from wood burning stove <br /> <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Y4wsEMkkxCKM8qykmz1-2A1x4YcS7M8_mINE-Kq6LnBNb0lPxG22_KJU0I1-N_9C1vdkTY_Twy4a_m7IMhJ5fVrzHlpCRPKZGvt8HtAQHnTOQluKUngbriy3SfDcVzX3fepTLfHywJA3/s1600-h/Pine_Needles_671edit.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Y4wsEMkkxCKM8qykmz1-2A1x4YcS7M8_mINE-Kq6LnBNb0lPxG22_KJU0I1-N_9C1vdkTY_Twy4a_m7IMhJ5fVrzHlpCRPKZGvt8HtAQHnTOQluKUngbriy3SfDcVzX3fepTLfHywJA3/s320/Pine_Needles_671edit.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320709738813223058" /></a><br /> PineJudehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-81875367017591810392009-03-28T19:34:00.000+00:002009-03-29T10:50:00.536+01:00Conversation with TastykaeruTastukaeru is Kate who lives in Scotland. I was drawn to her work by her luscious embroidery. Her titles bring the pieces alive, hinting at her unique relationship to the natural world giving us an insight how her craft is truly a meditation in an elemental exploration of colours and textures. <br />As she explains art is a universal language with the process providing its own reward – there is definately a meditative quality around these words and creations. <br /><br />Many thanks Kate and check out the bottom of the interview for blog, Etsy, Photographic and musical links. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ4_gzLnWpvGT_hWh_04RqZZ6ScrGgKX8PoLyOEFfU3D6pBb3bAtXYYzwsn967r1GlYr4S3uYIYHjd1uECVPMFJvFyp1uYz21Oh6NOxmM5vsgBUE0lliDbdc9CWjSPZRdJQO3ZYfGBIljg/s1600-h/silver+and+felt+necklace.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 236px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ4_gzLnWpvGT_hWh_04RqZZ6ScrGgKX8PoLyOEFfU3D6pBb3bAtXYYzwsn967r1GlYr4S3uYIYHjd1uECVPMFJvFyp1uYz21Oh6NOxmM5vsgBUE0lliDbdc9CWjSPZRdJQO3ZYfGBIljg/s320/silver+and+felt+necklace.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317438542821634434" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I see nature in your work. Why incorporate/replicate nature? </span><br /><br />I see nature as beauty in one of its purest forms. The development of the planet and evolution of life over billions of years has created so many wonderful, complex, absurd, incongruous and incredible things. Nature to me is about purity and getting ‘back to basics’ – I want to celebrate the fact that underneath all the ugliness and sadness in the world, beauty and wonder are still possible – and inspiration for this from nature is abundant. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTigjl34-fkygpToxvbFRP6JPwo4MJUpDbEJk802sSNusQFgOBB4FVc1VJSqxFyDvGWG2Y7S-Hrv7dA2iRJSJTdCbNT4dy2digL1tP5Gsb5mT_qp5f17A4Siazu8XiCQaA4NDceLmb0p53/s1600-h/Sundown+detail.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTigjl34-fkygpToxvbFRP6JPwo4MJUpDbEJk802sSNusQFgOBB4FVc1VJSqxFyDvGWG2Y7S-Hrv7dA2iRJSJTdCbNT4dy2digL1tP5Gsb5mT_qp5f17A4Siazu8XiCQaA4NDceLmb0p53/s320/Sundown+detail.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317435434497976466" /></a> <br /> <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">What inspires you?</span> </span><br /><br />Colour and texture. Memories, smells, light, and shadow. Biology, chemistry, astronomy, and photographs from the <a href="http://hubblesite.org/gallery/album/ ">Hubble Space Telescope </a>Serendipity. <br /><br /> <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Do you ever get obsessed? </span><br /><br />I wouldn’t say I get ‘obsessed’ but I do love the satisfaction of finishing a piece, which makes me want to start another, and another, and…! <br /> <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Have you ever experienced a spiritual element in craft?</span><br /><br />Physically the Japanese ‘kumihimo’ braiding that I do is quite repetitious and almost meditative – I certainly find that I get into a rhythm that is soothing, relaxing and mind-clearing – quite like a meditation in fact.<br />I find music to be the creative outlet that connects directly with something deeper and more ‘spiritual’, whereas crafting is much more like a meditation, where I can celebrate and explore elemental perceptual ideas of colour and texture.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHnR9LC0xZKy0R4JtrT62RMO4QKYX-uyyS8Mo0SUp3gV4ERaPibVjWpx_gcxUAPfiabiXh9-Axjdj9ISJs1PZTkcacO_nI5kaMC0hAevJ8zpyyHh3rbI1wn04VIdEV76DcBbYnA_kZNlgp/s1600-h/Weaving.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHnR9LC0xZKy0R4JtrT62RMO4QKYX-uyyS8Mo0SUp3gV4ERaPibVjWpx_gcxUAPfiabiXh9-Axjdj9ISJs1PZTkcacO_nI5kaMC0hAevJ8zpyyHh3rbI1wn04VIdEV76DcBbYnA_kZNlgp/s320/Weaving.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317448796897084370" /></a><br />As for a connection to a certain place, I am always drawn back to the sea and seashore – the texture of wet sand, the subtle colours of shells, light glinting on the surface of water, and the perpetual motion and sound of waves. A place I am particularly attached to in this respect is the beautiful island of Tiree, here in Scotland. My memories and photos of Tiree often inspire ideas in my crafting. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLu0YdXBlBowARSSu211P4i9vgsLKJrFbnMqThZOWa9Fdn4I5489ZW07VK6jBjGYh3xUPB66euEjCe5G8d-TtxrpbhHtb3-l0DzceEidfZ7K2YQqatOzVd6Jc1Ofjz_kCwTL6fFmTmtadV/s1600-h/Tiree.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLu0YdXBlBowARSSu211P4i9vgsLKJrFbnMqThZOWa9Fdn4I5489ZW07VK6jBjGYh3xUPB66euEjCe5G8d-TtxrpbhHtb3-l0DzceEidfZ7K2YQqatOzVd6Jc1Ofjz_kCwTL6fFmTmtadV/s320/Tiree.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317433642628828930" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />What does creativity feed you with? </span><br /><br />Creativity lets me feel that it’s ok to be alive in this world! (When it’s going well…!) <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Is there anything creativity gives you do that is missing from mainstream society? </span><br /><br />It feels like humans have forgotten that they are part of the Earth’s ecosystem, and that everything on the planet has its place and there is a balance that needs to be maintained for the benefit of all. I think it all comes down to responsibility – to oneself, to others and to the planet. Creativity allows us to distil our human experience into a pure form – art - that is like a universal language. The process is its own reward. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXmHQ41Qv0JROgfV3FDmgyTzABBf4izxc6XA2CcC6hEd4pjoO0SA5lb6PsyIPKj-_3mA0_9OemqSH3zN_swR_uTOcbTttrsg2MySirNg6WqZKHqXRAo_TdcfY7DOXuBmLjLciFUdWhPYZ/s1600-h/Vernal+felt+necklace.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXmHQ41Qv0JROgfV3FDmgyTzABBf4izxc6XA2CcC6hEd4pjoO0SA5lb6PsyIPKj-_3mA0_9OemqSH3zN_swR_uTOcbTttrsg2MySirNg6WqZKHqXRAo_TdcfY7DOXuBmLjLciFUdWhPYZ/s320/Vernal+felt+necklace.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317448444433431282" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />What kinda work inspires you? </span><br /><br />Any work where the person has really enjoyed what they have done – the process and the result. Works that have taken lots of patience or fine attention to detail; fantastic textures or luscious colours. I also find really good raw supplies extremely inspiring – sometimes I’ll see a new colour combination that I never would have thought of, or a new fibre I haven’t worked with before, and it sets a whole new idea off…<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhtTHGSVFJ1UgmVNuEWuf8SIOnMTSanUBjtcKqywsKbiLhVDqxND5EDF1T3NhAUc9R_DycKep-a0gPBZyh9s2QlTIqTpLoAdH2OUVhUHMf5-rEnjkpXv-9mqg3VyZ6feec_HqSUyj-XrY/s1600-h/copse.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhtTHGSVFJ1UgmVNuEWuf8SIOnMTSanUBjtcKqywsKbiLhVDqxND5EDF1T3NhAUc9R_DycKep-a0gPBZyh9s2QlTIqTpLoAdH2OUVhUHMf5-rEnjkpXv-9mqg3VyZ6feec_HqSUyj-XrY/s320/copse.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318172822516138930" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">‘Disasters or experiments? What’s your attitude when it all goes wrong? </span><br /><br />I think it’s all about state of mind on the day. Usually when my ideas are too fixed, I’m unable to make my idea into reality in a satisfying way. If however I can relax a bit and ‘play’, I find all sorts of serendipitous things happen and that is often when I have the most fun and make the best pieces.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What are you working on just now? </span><br /><br />Today I am working on a custom necklace – one of my felted, beaded and embroidered pieces. The colour theme is brown with a hint of pink and gold, like sea-washed shells.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXPxWeweyHEe6PXjQVp2SFouxVbOrzKUJu7I2HiOVyRSXMaJh_u8brSLGFFnSjIpxV9moovcMm56gFY3w7oZuDntg0CVMb5SByV4itA2FZaCjleWioOM5obA5rnDnA4_lK-8Io0iz-Q52c/s1600-h/kates+workplace.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXPxWeweyHEe6PXjQVp2SFouxVbOrzKUJu7I2HiOVyRSXMaJh_u8brSLGFFnSjIpxV9moovcMm56gFY3w7oZuDntg0CVMb5SByV4itA2FZaCjleWioOM5obA5rnDnA4_lK-8Io0iz-Q52c/s320/kates+workplace.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317453106769128162" /></a><br /><br />Kate's links: <br /><br /><a href="http://tastykaeru.blogspot.com">Blog</a><br /><a href="http://tastykaeru.etsy.com">Etsy</a><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/tastykaeru/">Flickr</a><br /><a href="http://www.madrigalproject.co.uk/main.html">The Madrigal Project </a>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-87805499331406342542009-03-17T09:27:00.000+00:002009-03-17T09:54:43.010+00:00Nature, Spirit, Craft<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/buddhaseed/1712056872/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2218/1712056872_b52db76230_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/buddhaseed/1712056872/">Tree of life</a>
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<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">This blog came about inspired by the amazing craft I’ve seen on flickr, Etsy and blogs. I’ve been so curious about the makers inspirations and thoughts and with serendipity weaving through virtual worlds we naturally connect, encourage and answer a barrage of questions!
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<br /><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">My motivation lies in the sparks I feel when I see particular pieces. I want to walk around their creative sacred place and look at what they’ve gathered around them. I want to know what inspires them, what’s their working process and find words to converse in a language we naturally don’t use words for. This is an ancient language: one which we are naturally fluent in, through our long evolution on this planet alongside our non human family. We are after all interconnected and cannot live without each other.
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<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><i style="">‘It was as if my body in its actions was suddenly being motivated by a wisdom older than my thinking mind, as though it was held and moved by a logos, deeper than words, spoken by the Other’s body, the trees, and the stony ground on which we stood’.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><i style=""> D. Abrams*</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/buddhaseed/1712077140/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2390/1712077140_a785bfc91d_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/buddhaseed/1712077140/">Wooden Heart</a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /><i style=""><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The nature of modernity has somehow swayed us off that course away from our inherited knowledge, and lead us to believe that here in our man made world we are somehow elevated above the natural world. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Maybe that’s why we often feel a little lost in this modern world, we no longer embody that ancient natural knowledge we all possess. The prevailing powers feed us with distractions and maybe if we were a little more fluent in out mother tongue, we might just be less addicted to the quick fixes of modernity’s drugs and a little more self satisfied with our relationship to ourselves, each other and the place in which we live. </p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/buddhaseed/1631002130/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2183/1631002130_77b221728f_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/buddhaseed/1631002130/in/set-72157602725140878/">Reassuringly ancient</a>
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So when I see a craft piece that stirs my soul I wonder if the practitioner is fluent in this ancient language. I wonder if my questioning reflects that early on in life I knew I saw the world differently and by that nature it’s been impossible for me to ever feel alone, or lonely. How can you feel alone when their is the wind, the night stars beckoning from vast distances, bird song, snow, mist, weather, cold, thunder – they all have their voices their spirit.I am unsure where this questioning will lead, but it weaves serendipity so I set sail in it’s stream trusting the guiding forces. I do wonder if we are more aware of our relationship to nature – in that we are nature – do we then act accordingly? How can we then share that inspiration to act, share that feeling with others and offer an antidote to addressing the problems of the world?
<br />
<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Spell-Sensuous-Perception-Language-More-Than-Human/dp/0679776397/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1237283642&sr=8-1">* Abrams, D. 1996. The Spell of the Sensuous, pg 21. Vintage, USA</a>
<br /></p> Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-18642990951853431212009-03-14T08:19:00.000+00:002009-03-14T22:52:46.636+00:00Conversation with Highland Fairy<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/2851035922/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3061/2851035922_4bdddb415c_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/3200921269/" title="photo sharing"> </a><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/2851035922/">Heidi</a><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Here is my first conversation around the theme of nature, spirit and craft. I aim to make this a weekly feature. This is Heidi, '</span><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" href="http://highlandfairy.blogspot.com/">Highland Fairy'</a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">, she describes herself as 'a mother of four, ceramicist, textile recycler, garment maker,jewellery creator,painter,earth lover'.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Her work is her conversations with nature..........I find her incredibly inspiring...</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" > I see nature in your work. Why incorporate/replicate nature?</span><br /><br /> <span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">I love using beautiful natural materials, and letting them guide me in the direction they want to go, like leaves and leaf stems that are so delicate you can only do a certain amount with them before they break...there is a simplicity about nature, but at the same time it's so amazingly intricate in pattern. I love organic shapes and forms and in my clay work I try to replicate these and the textures of nature so that I can be as connected to them as possible, and clay being from the earth makes it even more special to me. </span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/ADMINI%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.jpg" alt="" /> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/3200920583/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3365/3200920583_fc2bf66a9b_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/3200921269/in/set-72157612642469266/"> </a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/3200920583/in/set-72157612642469266/">Pine needle, paper, leaf stem </a><br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" > What inspires you?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Anything that has a great texture, or has a colour that I would love to reproduce in a painting, a costume from a film, the shapes of the trees in winter, a seed pod, a landscape, an amazing piece of art, an old pair of trousers that I can turn into something else...or a drawing that one of my children has done! I am also inspired by other creative people and their energy.</span> </div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >Do you get obsessed? </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);">I do get a bit too involved in my work sometimes, so much that I might burn the dinner or forget to pick my son up from nursery! I am obsessed by fabrics, buttons and boots....but I could never have too many of any of these things!</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> <span style="font-size:85%;">Have you ever experienced a spiritual element in craft, eg. A connection to a certain place or a ‘getting into the zone’ when working ….</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">I think my creativity is all about being spiritual, without thinking about it. It's such a spontaneous thing in me that sometimes I know I am being guided in the directions I go in, with my life and my work...I have a connection with nature and even though it's sometimes hard for me to get totally lost in something I am working on because I have my children to look after, I do day dream a lot!</span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/3201497950/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3310/3201497950_afb49a7628_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></a><br /><span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" ><span style="text-decoration: underline;">silver paper necklace</span><br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >What does creativity feed you with?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(64, 0, 127);">when I have an idea in my head (which is almost constant) there's nothing better than making it real and alive....and if I didn't have the ability to be creative I know I'd probably be lost in this world!</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >When you consider what creativity gives you do you think there are elements there that you might see are missing from mainstream society?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">I think the best thing we can give our children is the freedom to express themselves through creativity.....and it makes me sad when I see people playing computer games or watching tv all the time (I admit we do these things too, but we have a balance). Sometimes I think schools don't focus enough on the practical things or music....or growing vegetables....being more grounded and not so into being competitive and successful in a high paid job!</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">I know we need doctors and lawyers, etc, but we also need to be encouraged to be creative.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/2607256378/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3222/2607256378_6fb7f008a2_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/2607256378/in/set-72157612642469266/">Stitched leaves</a><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >What kinda work inspires you?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(64, 0, 127);">I have found some amazing artists on Flickr and so much work is inspiring to me, all using different materials and having different ideas....sometimes it's overwhelming, but I think it's so special to see so much happening! I love finding other people who I have a strong connection to!</span><br /><br /></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> <span style="font-size:85%;">‘Disasters or experiments? What’s your attitude when it all goes wrong?</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);">I make lots of mistakes and I'm sure I'm not the only one to be a perfectionist!</span> <span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);">If I paint something I'm not happy with I'll paint over and start again...if I sew a garment that I don't like I'll rip it up and make something else....It doesn't get me down....I see it all as an experiment anyway.....and at the end of the day..it's all reusable.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >What are you working on just now?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">I'm working on about 5 different projects at the moment....button neck pieces, a patchwork dress, some clay bird necklaces, a painting that I'm not quite sure about and some other things!</span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/2991959546/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3174/2991959546_b555611f4c_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></a><span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" ><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/2991959546/">sitting at my drawing table</a></span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/3268652439/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3362/3268652439_bf59d5d048_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/3268652439/">Sew</a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://highlandfairy.blogspot.com/">Blog</a><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://heidimoon.etsy.com/">Etsy</a><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/highlandfairy/">Flickr</a><br /></span><a href="http://heidimoon.etsy.com/"></a></div>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-17682452158950923292009-03-12T19:18:00.000+00:002009-03-12T21:52:10.880+00:00A birth day amoungst trees<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2Aj33qbfpr-pvbxsNZkRK-OOqHCSkW64PdwsihnOC27cQhTvNqSolnr51KckLEG5yTlonBfS3MUWTRohFDPF5UB02ssvGxMdxBtm4LsXFVT9oeI6scCDKrhW-QJ3X2P1UMyN7EtNwDuQ/s1600-h/candles+cropped.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2Aj33qbfpr-pvbxsNZkRK-OOqHCSkW64PdwsihnOC27cQhTvNqSolnr51KckLEG5yTlonBfS3MUWTRohFDPF5UB02ssvGxMdxBtm4LsXFVT9oeI6scCDKrhW-QJ3X2P1UMyN7EtNwDuQ/s320/candles+cropped.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312399296036858114" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Birthdays are weird things, love ‘em, hate ‘em. I oscillate between the two. What I hate is the expectations. It’s your 40<sup>th</sup> you MUST do something. Nope, nope, nope I want quiet. </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >This one however is overshadowed by big black clouds. When there is a family member gone, and the reality is that they, unlike you, are never going to celebrate a 40<sup>th</sup> birthday it taints the day. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >But the sun shone gloriously, a reprieve from all the rain and the wild weather as </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >winter gentles into spring</span><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >. I walked in spring sunshine in the company of majestic trees. The clatter of heron’s are preparing their nest in a Cyprus of Lebanon sounding like Teridactyls, taking part in the return of ancient cycles: winter into spring, regrowth from death.<br /></span></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96Mkb3C7KaKj33qk0oSzF5ML8sl-m_E-C-dIDpRqgvbs6l7EKCVtyJutOm2hrqsJNvBSXOKuB02BPdkBWpB5ZhhyphenhyphenPaE2kIcS0tl3OT16uS0pbqS39tK0jyaueTpzBkhXYTckSTGEsX7kn/s1600-h/pod+lichen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 212px; height: 172px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96Mkb3C7KaKj33qk0oSzF5ML8sl-m_E-C-dIDpRqgvbs6l7EKCVtyJutOm2hrqsJNvBSXOKuB02BPdkBWpB5ZhhyphenhyphenPaE2kIcS0tl3OT16uS0pbqS39tK0jyaueTpzBkhXYTckSTGEsX7kn/s320/pod+lichen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312421187569022866" border="0" /></a></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >So far 40 has been realising your eyes are getting strained while doing wee close up work, leaving the iron on and having to phone someone to go round and turn it off - and having one thin slice of birthday cake gives me this almighty sugar rush like being on drugs at 10 am in work. Sad, eh? </span></p> <span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >It was a good day inspired by trees and lichen. I'd love to somehow replicate this lichen in felt, creating those little pods. </span><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >I've been trying to make tree trunks out of felt with some french knot lichen, i'd love a little forest of them.Maybe I should try them in grey or brown.<br />I laughed at </span><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >small children trying to fit 40 candles onto a cake and basked into wonderful moonshine which somehow seemed brighter than usual. As I stood watching the clouds to clear from her face I felt rooted. She emanated a deep hush, and I felt calm, silent and tree like. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7JInoOGkRvu0xlABFiGtXk8jtwRrnTvwt0WqWLy0YSMKpbQUat021IgkHQuwkRMGZDHqbPTOgnJrTEtb1roORqn9M3DpLWINMjW2TA4S2DjfGAa_zhSNvpZNYq97c_iQ39rN3H_GY5ro/s1600-h/trunk+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 208px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7JInoOGkRvu0xlABFiGtXk8jtwRrnTvwt0WqWLy0YSMKpbQUat021IgkHQuwkRMGZDHqbPTOgnJrTEtb1roORqn9M3DpLWINMjW2TA4S2DjfGAa_zhSNvpZNYq97c_iQ39rN3H_GY5ro/s320/trunk+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312421361926385650" border="0" /></a><br /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/ADMINI%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" />Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-14002802668923573822009-03-04T22:09:00.000+00:002009-03-04T22:59:10.435+00:00Fire in the head, heart and hand<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4kJ1wV4cmHm-zOBTa5eFn9IQt6xmwNKm0dxnvUaAyUw8gWzzbqkFlSyKd9lsTdmWXbk5zyksU8oX3RoR1is30Se3ZCW-kEAHQFXWwoQl7kiOt9xWvgiI10Qju_xfInO8jpR53IOLjNfmw/s1600-h/ursa-major2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4kJ1wV4cmHm-zOBTa5eFn9IQt6xmwNKm0dxnvUaAyUw8gWzzbqkFlSyKd9lsTdmWXbk5zyksU8oX3RoR1is30Se3ZCW-kEAHQFXWwoQl7kiOt9xWvgiI10Qju_xfInO8jpR53IOLjNfmw/s320/ursa-major2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309469538561205010" border="0" /></a> NASA Picture of Ursa Major<br /></div><br />This journey formed part of an Imbolc ritual. It has been suggested that Brigid: goddess and saint morped into a far older form of energy as the focus of a bear cult. Hers is a time of coming out of hibernation, when the bear was sacred as possessing the magic of dying and not just coming back to life, but to bring life back into the land.<br /><br />I lead a journey which we became the bear. Pull your blankets tight around you and i'll tell you a story:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> *<br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="">Curl up foetus like, remember being in that dark place of our mother’s as we return to that dark place of the Earth. Imagine our covers an accumulation of day and night, of all the seasons past until they merge taking us back thousands of years. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="">The familiar stories we recognise in the stars are no longer relevant. This is a time far more ancient. This is a time when bears roamed in <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Scotland</st1:country-region></st1:place>. You are now the last bear, a lone female. As you prepare to enter sacred dreamtime, returning to the belly of the earth, your dreams will be earth dreams.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_KmOw2lTJ2hImT99GqUn5O0jChSRwByveh48TpbU8CeVFAaxtQGHfS2tsdfAkC389073i7vYGl8Yyh9-p908ubk4sil-WwHcxi_7DNnZL2hyphenhypheneLUWf9ci1XLCHxkaNioPuDo-22ivxH3W/s1600-h/brigid01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_KmOw2lTJ2hImT99GqUn5O0jChSRwByveh48TpbU8CeVFAaxtQGHfS2tsdfAkC389073i7vYGl8Yyh9-p908ubk4sil-WwHcxi_7DNnZL2hyphenhypheneLUWf9ci1XLCHxkaNioPuDo-22ivxH3W/s320/brigid01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309470704465868578" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="">Overhead nights chase days and you are emerged in dreamtime. You make your own stories to the constellations that will become ancient tales and will be shared by those who come after you and tell tales of how to live the way of the earth. <span style=""> </span>Make your intentions known to the universe; make them known to every cell and every drop of blood. As you feasted on the autumn abundance feed from the universal abundance.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdg7lTiM5pQ7YZgj07_EckXMdx2KwYpj3ThdRmVZYV_MzjStzLjFXlmdxoey2armMSEm2otPYFH8csmXpdGBEC6dBMSTa7GqSp_Ef-wk589ZHgPzBKASPWPZtd7x46OFTENdAKRAm5t71/s1600-h/DSC_0065.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 185px; height: 123px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdg7lTiM5pQ7YZgj07_EckXMdx2KwYpj3ThdRmVZYV_MzjStzLjFXlmdxoey2armMSEm2otPYFH8csmXpdGBEC6dBMSTa7GqSp_Ef-wk589ZHgPzBKASPWPZtd7x46OFTENdAKRAm5t71/s320/DSC_0065.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309463536674904114" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.brigitsgarden.ie/">Brigid's Cross Paving</a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="">Paint your pictures in stars; name them, give them stories that you wish to live your life by. Give them stories that tell of how to live with our mother, with ourselves, with each other. Give them stories from your soul, how to live in love. Create what you need to work in this world, gather them together, gather them together. Pull all of this into your sleeping body where they will gestate and come to life when you awake.<span style="color: rgb(153, 204, 0);"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="">There is a deep stirring in the earth, you can hear the whispering of tree roots as they wriggle in the soil.<span style=""> </span>Slowly you are preparing to come back into consciousness, to return to your body. Outside the howling winter gales are taming. All winter that you gathered from sacred dreamtime has been growing inside you. You can feel the energy shift as the Northern Hemisphere slowly awakens. Rock yourself gently and slowly bring movement back into your body. Slowly, slowly make your way to the front of the cave. Make your way to face the East to bathe in the morning light.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style=""> </span><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" spt="75" preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f"> <v:stroke joinstyle="miter"> <v:formulas> <v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"> <v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"> <v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"> <v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"> <v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"> <v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"> <v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"> <v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"> <v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"> <v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"> <v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"> <v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"> </v:formulas> <v:path extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"> <o:lock ext="edit" aspectratio="t"> </v:shapetype><v:shape id="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:104.25pt;"> <v:imagedata src="file:///C:\DOCUME~1\ADMINI~1\LOCALS~1\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image001.jpg" title="bear2"> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIs54pCBkLFT0wpCqqJjjjukUaM5cRXz3ZLSqMoQ41iZyHt0Yox5LBcmFxnN-z1QmlUjUD_loMissGbDYIHo0OtbCbEzyD1WYqHXwMlOqQ17WRn1GDI1sHaFNqF3vGDjOwd5rUijmFVPFt/s1600-h/DarkDefineLight1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIs54pCBkLFT0wpCqqJjjjukUaM5cRXz3ZLSqMoQ41iZyHt0Yox5LBcmFxnN-z1QmlUjUD_loMissGbDYIHo0OtbCbEzyD1WYqHXwMlOqQ17WRn1GDI1sHaFNqF3vGDjOwd5rUijmFVPFt/s320/DarkDefineLight1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309458957891733106" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> <a href="http://images.google.co.uk/imgres?imgurl=http://findagoddess.com/images/DarkDefineLight1.jpg&imgrefurl=http://findagoddess.com/display.php%3FHERNAME%3DCalleach%2520Bheur&usg=__-Gg_KWzW6uy7r_-sgqA3nPz8hUM=&h=248&w=200&sz=27&hl=en&start=2&tbnid=PWWjCV5Wdvu3wM:&tbnh=111&tbnw=90&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dcalleach%26gbv%3D2%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DG"> Calleach</a><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="">This is the time of Imbolc where the Calleach, the winter Crone gives up her reign. She can no longer stake her blackthorn staff and cull every sign of life, life now is growing in energy and her energy is weakening. She returns to Tir na Nog, drinking from the fountain of eternal youth. Turning around she has renewed the face of the goddess and now takes her form in Brigid. Brigid who is the bear awakening from her hibernation. She spreads her mantle across the earth leavening a greening hue.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="">As you reach the mouth of the cave. Brigid’s light greets you, washing your face in the dew. She is our midwife, assisting our rebirth as you emerge from the bearskins. Stepping naked into the new dawn Brigid takes your hand and recognising you as her daughter. She embraces you and you feel that fire within you smoulder. That fire ignites our head, swells in our heart and emanates from our hands are we are enthused in the work we must carry out. That fire ignites our plans, our loves and so Brigit will always be alive within us. She is that most ancient energy which has travelled life with mankind. Every night you look up to the dark skies recall those stories you spun out amongst them. </p>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-10083425804982184972009-03-02T19:14:00.000+00:002009-03-02T22:24:22.187+00:00The mark of the witch<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQxk5GD5i5FKW17-etghaB4YHYCzF2sXa8GhIYYeV18jHUBsYFxHWnHoc-PGNApRjgAShZjAT_An_N2Z-fpAJZ5X7UgAFXWiFWTtS5Afoo5zDmFsMMbqQqAZQWo1ayxcTuZhy3VXMXtOO/s1600-h/Hawthorn+flower.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 307px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQxk5GD5i5FKW17-etghaB4YHYCzF2sXa8GhIYYeV18jHUBsYFxHWnHoc-PGNApRjgAShZjAT_An_N2Z-fpAJZ5X7UgAFXWiFWTtS5Afoo5zDmFsMMbqQqAZQWo1ayxcTuZhy3VXMXtOO/s320/Hawthorn+flower.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308671509543398818" border="0" /></a><p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >This lone blackthorn flower caught my eye shining out against the black tangle of thorny branches. A bright spark of blood appeared on my finger as I was nicked by a thorn. The very same thorns that the devil was said to mark witches with. The thorn marks that Witch Finder Generals (my flesh crawls even thinking about those twisted men) were looking for as they accused young girls, women, old crones and men alike in the medieval witch trials. The Blackthorn was so entangled with those supposedly involved in the ‘dark arts’ that their branches were cut and used as fuel of the pyres set to burn the accused alive.Its association with darkness is really just the oppressing hand of the medieval church in their attempts to overthrown those practicing an earth based spirituality. </span><br /></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >In Scotland <a href="http://www.mysteriousbritain.co.uk/scotland/folklore/the-caillech-bheur.html">Calleach</a> (the crone of winter) is said to have struck her staff of blackthorn into the earth striking down any sign of growth in her dark reign of the winter months. </span></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7Uf_egM9fuhbebEYtR_XP_CDLj1Ey_SJLEglAwRgWE5s_Fed5atHSUMbTc-FuHQe_3Sl_cNAgpSWEvmvLoVNUGe8QxN9WZxBJcebwPoSQnNDWX9ADhtnbypCJ_23_LfuC4ZaOnuWWOBE/s1600-h/by+rides.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7Uf_egM9fuhbebEYtR_XP_CDLj1Ey_SJLEglAwRgWE5s_Fed5atHSUMbTc-FuHQe_3Sl_cNAgpSWEvmvLoVNUGe8QxN9WZxBJcebwPoSQnNDWX9ADhtnbypCJ_23_LfuC4ZaOnuWWOBE/s320/by+rides.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308718558128365266" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Baba Yaga Rides </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >While modern attitudes might sneer at the idea of a tree encompassing a healing property or spirit I love that it’s existed for thousands of years, showing up in archaeological records going back as far as 8,000bc. Wither in spirit or metaphorically it can offer us the tool for overcoming negativity. It helps us to facilitate our rebirth bringing forth that which we may repressed from those long dark days where dreams fed from our unconscious to bringing our negativity into the light and begin to work with them. </span><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >One idea I’ve had for this blog is to talk to fibre artists – people who I see the soul of nature infused in their work. Feature artist’s I’ve met through workshops, Flickr, blogs etc and generate some discussion. </span><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >I'd like to examine in this blog is when we consider the state of the world I want to question what what role does craft and creativity play in facilitate our relationship to our self, each other, nature and ultimately spirit, god, mystery (however you view the interconnection that is life</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEnfzyNFWRzB-eKanmg1t7ACvRsboKPCjJCz7OUGr9edK5QoMkCji5hs2_DZKtLNQQ3rA9f1ROKT1JVx-O6nksmLkh934nVvl6MEB5qTDfby5nYv0EH5DvLHBYTuDZI7hfGvCLYDeuRPq_/s1600-h/layer+card+blog.jpg">).<br /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEnfzyNFWRzB-eKanmg1t7ACvRsboKPCjJCz7OUGr9edK5QoMkCji5hs2_DZKtLNQQ3rA9f1ROKT1JVx-O6nksmLkh934nVvl6MEB5qTDfby5nYv0EH5DvLHBYTuDZI7hfGvCLYDeuRPq_/s1600-h/layer+card+blog.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 185px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEnfzyNFWRzB-eKanmg1t7ACvRsboKPCjJCz7OUGr9edK5QoMkCji5hs2_DZKtLNQQ3rA9f1ROKT1JVx-O6nksmLkh934nVvl6MEB5qTDfby5nYv0EH5DvLHBYTuDZI7hfGvCLYDeuRPq_/s320/layer+card+blog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308678319726870274" border="0" /></a> <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIaRNwWUFcwiJKZpoti45RugQBxUQlxtUBZt7djF5PKdo2U6aiuqtllD7InBlu7db1N7h3e1MOb1-i5_FJ74TP5c70doWCwusMxkQd-cGkITf4TkpFgIsWEuRjYUkxEXLp5cumvenRtVNW/s1600-h/mirror+close+up+1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 138px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIaRNwWUFcwiJKZpoti45RugQBxUQlxtUBZt7djF5PKdo2U6aiuqtllD7InBlu7db1N7h3e1MOb1-i5_FJ74TP5c70doWCwusMxkQd-cGkITf4TkpFgIsWEuRjYUkxEXLp5cumvenRtVNW/s320/mirror+close+up+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308712104661534722" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM0Ks7rYnpaZQ1wl0JXMUOozT43CYJwN8_sEaLSogPG-rHdGhtpTHIAY_5uYpgqK07KD09rNry9IwiCOds2v5U9afZPgcg4GzoxzV_l4PdzO6wIzGcelS7CwTS-GKlBhPf6QqxBrfJJEi6/s1600-h/mirror+close+up+2.jpg"><br /></a></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Just now I feel quite infused with the spirit of the blackthorn. While I love the longer days I’m feeling quite naked separated from those winter layers that bathed us in darkness, it felt safe somehow, I was able to hide.<br /></span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >I’ve been working nuno felt scraps machine embroidered into layers, it makes me think of my Grandmother. She was a tailor working in an eminent dressmakers in Glasgow called Muriel’s, just off Suchiehall street. In the 1920's the rich of London Society would travel to Glasgow for tailored flapper dresses. Her embroidery was amazing as I remember as a kid not being able to work out which way down the embroidered tablecloths went!</span></p><p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >As the machine stitches trails of gold and connects and merges the layers of nuno I feel like i'm bringing light to dark layers of my psyche. I need to explore them and recognise the patterns they, often unwittingly, weave in our life.</span></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUnq4GB_9QtIvCUSlPT7UPeWOp8fYJb0VtG1udjFb3lzsD4c0gLWpSXHMRyRlePHbe6PVhyxEUIa9Pjz3iNg00eBVop-y_gK2NFbmF3FRFbWw_fQB8HK7jahzOkcGwRCUSlVmaPwj5lvZb/s1600-h/layer+card.jpg"><br /></a></p><p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span></p>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-47086482686094470912009-02-26T18:07:00.000+00:002009-02-26T23:14:21.813+00:00Migrating birds
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXat-3M7t610sdcf45NG0DvpEa1Y2egxP0S9Kzz85KBRwN9L4wnKmjduWcWn6szhPTTi7XJ-Q2M5zeC3kQsdjKDl6bPi4bOfEn75AcVRuREiHTvoFc_hjGdeQy0T6bL5biEclUDIbqwYE/s1600-h/birds.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXat-3M7t610sdcf45NG0DvpEa1Y2egxP0S9Kzz85KBRwN9L4wnKmjduWcWn6szhPTTi7XJ-Q2M5zeC3kQsdjKDl6bPi4bOfEn75AcVRuREiHTvoFc_hjGdeQy0T6bL5biEclUDIbqwYE/s320/birds.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307231540274664338" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUF-DsMOMiPR84mkPM0ZvKYEe72iozrAB5j0dsQMbBKVQf8xqUhKjy7RR1Bs61cOYIGUG_jnRNjLGjx9Azy7tMriWm2sXVxtzRZLJYsEr8QteeR6VOcvG1pwltq4Kwh2rkUvdomBaKP4en/s1600-h/bird+making.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUF-DsMOMiPR84mkPM0ZvKYEe72iozrAB5j0dsQMbBKVQf8xqUhKjy7RR1Bs61cOYIGUG_jnRNjLGjx9Azy7tMriWm2sXVxtzRZLJYsEr8QteeR6VOcvG1pwltq4Kwh2rkUvdomBaKP4en/s320/bird+making.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307242157681538242" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I’m happy to report that my<a href="http://ilikelichen.etsy.com/"> </a><i style=""><a href="http://ilikelichen.etsy.com/">little birds</a> </i>have been leaving the nest as fast as I can assemble bodies, wings, beads and brooch clips. Like my little birds I too am preparing to leave the nest, my lofty eyrie looking out to <st1:place st="on">Ben Lomond</st1:place> and the surrounding hills. My migration however involves the impossible task of taming an unruly flock of immigration forms which like little birds never seem to stay in the same place for too long.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy7Iq6EUKUXr1d5VSfFuOVoYgxZ2bNRYuk6btYGFfGN4EqYDUCIk1HhasVCfBCCroOGvf3BsPdLNPKnuN1kKjNe5uCj6U-PWPzM44rZBOAjhaOd8dHiepukb89Q-uUPX6aVqtNs9tYjshV/s1600-h/ben+l.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 89px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy7Iq6EUKUXr1d5VSfFuOVoYgxZ2bNRYuk6btYGFfGN4EqYDUCIk1HhasVCfBCCroOGvf3BsPdLNPKnuN1kKjNe5uCj6U-PWPzM44rZBOAjhaOd8dHiepukb89Q-uUPX6aVqtNs9tYjshV/s320/ben+l.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307248106614109394" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"> A snowy Ben Lomond taken from my flat</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Although my migration is voluntary, unlike the many <a href="http://http//www.alastairmcintosh.com/articles/2006-wild-scots.htm">f</a><a href="http://http//www.alastairmcintosh.com/articles/2006-wild-scots.htm">orcibly moved from their Western Isles lands</a><a href="http://http//www.alastairmcintosh.com/articles/2006-wild-scots.htm">,</a> I will follow paths many took over the <st1:place st="on">Atlantic</st1:place> to <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Asheville</st1:city>, <st1:state st="on">North Carolina</st1:state></st1:place> ~ a place in the <st1:place st="on">Appalachians</st1:place> where fibre arts are very much alive. Along with good friends, family and a small dog I will miss my mountain, <st1:place st="on">Ben Lomond</st1:place> on the East <st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">shore</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename st="on">Loch Lomond</st1:placename></st1:place>. A peak which magically summons rain clouds from the <st1:place st="on">Atlantic</st1:place>. Even on days when it envelopes itself in mist and cloud, immersed in its own weather system I feel its pull, its steady heart beat, its roots are my roots.
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4B0OtMtWk5pIxkZQTHkpdspqe5kHM75E09AHJy94aibFdR09mOvEjpdMn0YTIw70CP6Ap80kvQQCYY2C0prSMUr9IvP9wbUSaS8fqLTQpS_de8Fn0DC5i-xjvNRorUVFXTBJwnr0z6h2/s1600-h/carman+.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4B0OtMtWk5pIxkZQTHkpdspqe5kHM75E09AHJy94aibFdR09mOvEjpdMn0YTIw70CP6Ap80kvQQCYY2C0prSMUr9IvP9wbUSaS8fqLTQpS_de8Fn0DC5i-xjvNRorUVFXTBJwnr0z6h2/s320/carman+.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307246473899635970" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"> Carman Hill (Neolithic burial chambers and Iron Age Fort) pic taken from flat</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">As a kid on surrounding hilltops I would peer squinting through the half light of dusk and imagine the darkening land dotted with ancient fires, surrounded by an ancient people’s sharing stories. Time was wrapped up in layers and I was always looking for my way in to pull aside that vast curtain and crawl in. I still hunt for those keys in the shape of crow, tree or moonlight.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgci7skcJuMGjo9r3-OfkN4lxjE6OWjtEt5WiC3VLZI4kY5rNJD_r8JnImofGliW3WTwS4FqOE_zypyJSA68pkSqSjvziAWH2fjBIGZ-UeiMkHQ53nD6YHIP23AN2vBpWfAv1GLD-KNU7zi/s1600-h/driftwood.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgci7skcJuMGjo9r3-OfkN4lxjE6OWjtEt5WiC3VLZI4kY5rNJD_r8JnImofGliW3WTwS4FqOE_zypyJSA68pkSqSjvziAWH2fjBIGZ-UeiMkHQ53nD6YHIP23AN2vBpWfAv1GLD-KNU7zi/s320/driftwood.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307235794057774754" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"> Driftwood</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Out on the ocean beneath the forming rain clouds flows the North Atlantic Drift. It has brought me curious treasures washed up on the <st1:place st="on">Clyde</st1:place> shore: coconuts, magically shaped driftwood and odd curiosities.Deep magic, our tie with the land, isn’t lost or forgotten, it’s very much alive. From my eyrie I look out to a town which cuts of the night skies in its excess of light pollution. As individuals we’re sidetracked by advertising, wide screen TV’s, traffic countless sources of noise into the belly of the consumerist beast. Above the artificial light the mountain peaks are tinged with the last light of the day, from the setting sun, shining on the lands of<span style=""> </span>Tir na Nog.
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<br /><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We can bring the deep magic of the land alive through us, what we make with our hands and all that we do. It is a magic that lives within us as we are an integral part of the land. There is no ‘saving the environment’ we are the land saving ourselves.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
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<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgci7skcJuMGjo9r3-OfkN4lxjE6OWjtEt5WiC3VLZI4kY5rNJD_r8JnImofGliW3WTwS4FqOE_zypyJSA68pkSqSjvziAWH2fjBIGZ-UeiMkHQ53nD6YHIP23AN2vBpWfAv1GLD-KNU7zi/s1600-h/driftwood.jpg">
<br /></a></p> Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-42110930365245152952009-02-22T23:04:00.001+00:002009-02-22T23:17:36.419+00:00Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-58658011582696774682009-02-22T22:39:00.000+00:002009-02-23T12:17:13.014+00:00Workshop day!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoRIxXVj5R0p86uvcuI25gi15ZNZwIla4j2iiqsK9BtvJ3E6IervM2We8Y8550KZtz24iNrM73O3XVYAKB1bIaaicssOizTAXjAT9xtambm_kMtJAVT_imulkzWYuH9SemMdsLNPaB2vn/s1600-h/knotwork.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoRIxXVj5R0p86uvcuI25gi15ZNZwIla4j2iiqsK9BtvJ3E6IervM2We8Y8550KZtz24iNrM73O3XVYAKB1bIaaicssOizTAXjAT9xtambm_kMtJAVT_imulkzWYuH9SemMdsLNPaB2vn/s320/knotwork.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305755765296494338" border="0" /></a><br /><p>I wake panicking! I jump out of bed. The dog has pooped in the hall. The morning mail comes crash landing through the letter box thankfully centimeters from a potentially messy target. The place is a mess. I'm running a workshop in 3 hours. People are arriving! Argghhhh!<br /></p><p>What exactly did i do last night? Oh yes, if i hadn't been stuck to the sofa in a battle between repulsion and morbid curiosity causing me to stay rooted for several episodes of Dexter the flat would be sparkling, organised and prepared! </p><p>Slowly the morning weaves together as friends arrive ~ each one a breathe of calmness and inspiration and as we talk about current projects and wools, crocheting, beads I begin to feel grounded in myself again.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaa_OeKdjVS4Qo7WzPeGBDFvb41WFP57SOewBNcyNbK5vbP6ngTYnlVLSRI_zDbP6WDqn8iftT7h_UAYSf6o9Xk7SySqCIgpg6c8mqJ0WavHg3-0WK0jfJYkU4ECEZkIpT0Ys01nbhHmFJ/s1600-h/immy+and+lesley.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaa_OeKdjVS4Qo7WzPeGBDFvb41WFP57SOewBNcyNbK5vbP6ngTYnlVLSRI_zDbP6WDqn8iftT7h_UAYSf6o9Xk7SySqCIgpg6c8mqJ0WavHg3-0WK0jfJYkU4ECEZkIpT0Ys01nbhHmFJ/s320/immy+and+lesley.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305786075796819906" border="0" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p>The day flies in as wool is laid, and rolled, soaped and felted. Fingerless gloves that started life the size of scarves are shrunk with hard graft and arms and shoulders that will ache the next day. Not quite the 15 minute projects we are all addicted to, but a working together in rolling and shrinking as women once did fulling Harris Tweed <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14XyL_sK8-A">singing waulking songs</a>. I run around with the mop as we work fueled by coffee, cake and some good old veggie Scotch Broth.</p><p><br /></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1ouK1AcK79qqp51NvJYYBRKoKhvEtMwLYR0Ha4m-wW_PBaVvSAa7dwhhC36Q7BF4qwe1kEGZ3Rkzyd-60H-C4kgd4WcBg019jdSUmOuSuFsMHu6OihTdfAuZkHChtAwzjeLj7Ndpxp35/s1600-h/Many+hands.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1ouK1AcK79qqp51NvJYYBRKoKhvEtMwLYR0Ha4m-wW_PBaVvSAa7dwhhC36Q7BF4qwe1kEGZ3Rkzyd-60H-C4kgd4WcBg019jdSUmOuSuFsMHu6OihTdfAuZkHChtAwzjeLj7Ndpxp35/s320/Many+hands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305953695876988482" border="0" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p>The laughter and the helping hands, stories of children and worries of sick children all intermingle bringing that quality that so much of consummerism, globalisation and quick fix gadgets have taken from us ~ a space to share and create.<br /></p><p><o:p></o:p>And as i collapsed thoroughly exhausted from the day I felt enriched knowing that craft is a catalyst which helps foster purpose and meaning on a personal level yest it's also what's missing in our current culture. The very act of creativity is what's needed to reinstall a sense of self and highlight the connections between us and everything else on this planet which is the key to returning the balance.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_0TtRcCJ9qoqc5bpzDURklLS2P1LaWSI8Nk_M4UiV7fmnMHxYydyeF6yvtgoXJ6FNP9-QMAW-2EyGWYsjeg1I51B0k-mZYksvZuKJthX_pWmvK1sb0TviwceSwvWx-g4jbQJ3Ux7iS5B/s1600-h/cuff+1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_0TtRcCJ9qoqc5bpzDURklLS2P1LaWSI8Nk_M4UiV7fmnMHxYydyeF6yvtgoXJ6FNP9-QMAW-2EyGWYsjeg1I51B0k-mZYksvZuKJthX_pWmvK1sb0TviwceSwvWx-g4jbQJ3Ux7iS5B/s320/cuff+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305786347951886402" border="0" /></a></p><br /><p><br /></p>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-728012016316567647.post-9689276207145327722008-10-15T23:12:00.000+01:002009-02-28T17:14:49.540+00:00Prayer flags of the heart<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM3BRmpXoJK70D7EjdhMkVHoMRP7qXZLffMh6UL404eD7WO3UHZaNEsQvLZCfvNMvoKgsA5XASG5lTug0rt1CePSj9ilctP4Vpop3juZ9eogiPbO3r_8zNeix5KJ9vFWKCD28uwLvSu3OQ/s1600-h/prayer+flags.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM3BRmpXoJK70D7EjdhMkVHoMRP7qXZLffMh6UL404eD7WO3UHZaNEsQvLZCfvNMvoKgsA5XASG5lTug0rt1CePSj9ilctP4Vpop3juZ9eogiPbO3r_8zNeix5KJ9vFWKCD28uwLvSu3OQ/s320/prayer+flags.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305764129593658722" border="0" /></a><br />Pieces of hand dyed pre-felt are hung out over the bath to dry like brightly coloured prayer flags. Each one the hue of autumn leaves shining in their brilliance before returning to the earth, their nutrients allowing new life to bloom. It is only in the language of nature can I make sense of my brother's death.<br /><br />While his body, that familiar shell has returned like the leaves to play their part in the cycle of life to the body of our mother, earth ...what of the spirit? That spark of eternal energy, that piece of 'god' which resides inside each of us ~ where is it?<br />I have lost a brother! I want to know where he is. I want signs, I need clues.<br />Is it our nature as being human we want more? There must be something else after life, yet that very story of returning to our mother, even in it's microcosm level is powerful and with purpose.<br /><br />The felt flag prayers sing my song of wanting to live life and surround myself only with people who make you feel alive and use my hands to do things which feed me with purpose and satisfaction ~ and sew everything I am drawn to into this rich fabric of life.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVS5xcxxq0gyY6-tGZtJgFJcc60jquhSSFcwjTAJMc3pYS_7tr8SE4GLLSf6S4Pe2aL0hy3r2IuVuRP4SmFNM7d7kjrcU_keHYvHIaBwel5UlPundPkevQ1L-6spU1Xp8smNWNLVscySmG/s1600-h/Allan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVS5xcxxq0gyY6-tGZtJgFJcc60jquhSSFcwjTAJMc3pYS_7tr8SE4GLLSf6S4Pe2aL0hy3r2IuVuRP4SmFNM7d7kjrcU_keHYvHIaBwel5UlPundPkevQ1L-6spU1Xp8smNWNLVscySmG/s320/Allan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307897758304413682" border="0" /></a>Judehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11968671962500815965noreply@blogger.com2