Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
I like this idea—that every day we are all writing another page of our very own book (although we are three days into this new year already and my own book is looking pretty empty so far. I might have to get off my bum and do something about that . . . )
What kind of book will you write for yourself this year?
A drama? A comedy? A romance? An adventure? All of the above? . . .
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
I may be showing my age here (ahem) but I do actually remember a time (once upon a dim, dark past) when a ‘liquid lunch’ meant somewhat more than a cup-a-soup or a protein shake . . .
Unfortunately these days (actually, thinking back, and from what I can recall, that should probably read ‘fortunately’) two glasses of wine at lunch time now and I start to feel an all-encompassing need to go lie down and have a bit of a nanna-nap . . .
Happily, I am on holiday at the moment and can do just that. 🙂
I hope you all have had . . . and are still having . . . . a lovely holiday break . . .
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
It’s done . . . the last of my Christmas shopping . . .
Pressies are wrapped, tagged and ready to be distributed (please don’t let me have forgotten anyone because I really don’t think I could face having to go back to the shops again today . . . ) The fridge is full of yummy food and drink (‘we elves like to stick to the four main food groups’) and I can’t think of a single thing I still have to do. Sigh. I might even go and have a little nap . . .
Christmas I am ready for you. Bring it on . . .
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
I had the telly on a lot last weekend. I admit, most of the time I wasn’t even watching it, it was just background noise. But every now and then, when I needed a break, I’d stop what I was doing, go make a cup of tea and settle myself onto the couch and ‘drop in’ to watching whatever was on at that moment.
This time of year, of course, it’s pretty much Christmas movie after Christmas movie. Many of them I have seen before (some of them I can even recite the dialogue . . . ) and most are fun to watch again (although, even at this time of year I can only digest so much sugar . . . ) but it still strikes me every year how seriously weird it is to be watching Christmas movies where everything is all over ice and snow, everyone is rugged up in coats, scarves and boots—and I am dressed in a sun-frock and have all the doors and windows open hoping to catch even the slightest of breezes . . .
I am not complaining. At all. I spent a number of Christmasses in Europe (albeit many years ago now) and although I have very fond memories of them I honestly do not miss that kind of cold. It looks all very lovely and romantic on chocolate boxes and yuletide cards and in Christmas movies, but the day to day getting about and living in it is a whole different story. So, weird as it feels sometimes, I am quite content to watch those kind of Christmasses from afar.
But to my friends and family overseas who do enjoy a cold and frosty Christmas—go for it! Eat, Drink and be Merry! (You can fill me in on the details later . . . )
The girls and I are thinking of you all . . . and sending warm (literally) and sandy hugs across the miles . . .
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
Well folks . . . Christmas is coming . . . which means so are the summer storms, sweltering heat, and bushfires . . .
Be careful. Be vigilant. Be safe . . .
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
Apparently there are no longer any fish to be caught in the Camden Haven River—at least, according to every fisherman I have spoken to over the past week . . .
‘Nothing down there’ . . . ‘fished out’ . . . ‘wasting my time’ . . .
And yet they continue to sit there . . . hour after hour . . . day after day . . . week after week . . .
Bless.
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
My take on recreating an old sepia photo . . . well, except for the stamping part, that wasn’t on the photo, that was just for fun . . . and the biro I used was black, not brown . . . (I have enough arty paraphernalia in my home to start my own shop and while searching through it I discovered I have every colour biro made by man—except brown. Sigh.)
So, if I am totally honest, I didn’t really recreate anything truly sepia at all, but it was fun anyway. . .
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
I was going to begin this post by telling you all what a very ‘ordinary’ gardener I am. However, after reading Janet Kilburn Phillip’s statement, I have decided to rethink that. If you look at it from her point of view—I am actually a gardening-experimenter-extraordinaire!
I have always liked gardens—other people’s gardens—but I never really had much luck when trying to create one of my own. It seemed to be all about keeping the lawns mowed, the paths swept and the weeds at bay. It was also true that, over the years, I have had very, very, many (failed) gardening ‘experiments’ . . .
Happily, those days now appear to be (mostly) behind me. Since I discovered the fabulous ‘succulent’ my garden has been totally transformed. I never even try to grow anything else any more. I don’t need to. Honestly, once a succulent is planted it mostly looks after itself (at least mine do). In fact, it’s just as well the majority of mine are actually confined to pots because if some of them got a foothold outside of those pots I am sure they would simply run amok. This became even more apparent to me last weekend when I went outside to do some general ‘tidying up’ and found that, almost overnight, most of my plants had begun spewing ‘succulent babies’ of every colour, shape and form imagineable all over the place . . .
So it appears that a good deal of my upcoming Christmas holidays might now be spent out in the garden—separating, thinning-out and repotting.
You never know—I might even get the time to sketch some of them too . . .
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
This week (drum roll . . . . ) I finally filled my first sketchbook. YAY!
(Okay—I had already begun another before I filled the first one up. In fact, I had already begun several others (different sizes, different shapes, different papers—who knew buying sketchbooks could be so much fun?) but that is beside the point. I actually finished one. Go me.)
So I know it’s not really that big of a deal to anyone else, but when I first opened that first lovely new pristine sketchbook I never really thought I would get to the end of it. I was so hesitant to make a mark in it, and every time I finished one sketch I was scared to start another—just in case I spoiled the whole book. (I still have issues with that but I am slowly getting used to ‘looking past’ the sketches I am not happy with. I am also discovering all sorts of sneaky new ways of covering crappy sketches up . . . )
That nice, new pristine sketchbook isn’t quite so pristine any more. It has a couple of torn pages, a couple of nibbled pages (although none of the girls have owned up to that yet) and a lot of wrinkly, blotched and smeared pages. But now I find, surprisingly, I am quite fond of those wrinkles, blotches and smears. Who’da thunk?
Now please excuse me. I have a couple of other sketchbooks to fill . . .
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
I admire people who use colour well in their artwork. Some people really seem to have the knack for it. I love colour (especially as it is so non-fattening) but I always seem to use too little—or go to the other extreme and never know when to stop.
Last week, in an effort to force myself out of my comfortable little box (which was hard, because I actually like my comfortable little box) I decided to go back to an exercise I had in one of my Sketchbook Skool classes (also I was desperately trying to think of a way to cover a completely failed sketch, but that’s a whole other story). So I splashed a couple of coloured washes onto the page (only two colours though—I wasn’t ready to launch myself too far out of my box . . . ) to see what would happen.
And then I sat and looked at it . . . and looked at it. . . and looked at it . . .
Okay. What the hell am I supposed to do with it now? Sigh. Honestly I have so little imagination at times it scares me . . .
So I closed the book and walked away.
After a couple of days of (unsuccessfully) trying to ignore this page in my sketchbook I decided to crawl back into my box, retreat to what I know best and do a biro sketch over the top of it. Et voila!
So, trying to look objectively at it, I don’t entirely hate it—but I am not sure I like it very much either.
But that’s okay. I’m glad I persevered. There was a time (not all that long ago) when I would have just ripped the page out of my sketchbook in disgust at my ineptitude.
Perhaps that means that I am actually a little bit further outside my box that I thought I was? I’ll take that.
Now I can turn over the page and try something else. Baby steps . . .
Sally says . . . eat, sleep, work, read, play, draw, bark . . . 