Showing posts with label stones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stones. Show all posts

Saturday, 30 July 2011

Self portrait #2, Chagfood, Stones, and Love

At last a new artwork to share with you. Bigger and, as ever, a new approach. My new favourite. I didn't set out to do a self portrait, but as it grew I was telling stories of myself with it, empathising with the different parts and how they met.Right from the start, when I had just drawn the moon, hearts and the first leaves, I regretted the hearts. Too predictable, too naive, too obvious. But that's me. I am frequently not the impressive or stylish or confident one. But I am true and I am loving. Many times I have regretted putting my heart out in the world, but often, as with this piece, when I can see the bigger picture I am so glad I dared and I resolve to go on daring. Because why else?

Self portrait #2
Brush pen on canvas board
10" x 12"

And so to love of an edible kind. We've started getting a veg box from Chagfood and every week it's such a delight to unpack it. The colours, textures, smells, are so good. When we go to the pick-up point, Pickle leans out of her buggy, gesturing for treats. So the produce in the following photos is a few tomatoes and some mange tout short of the full box. (Like me, some days.) It's not a normal veg box scheme. Members buy a share in the produce - a much more stable way for small, organic growers to operate. If you want to know more, have a look at this.

Chagfood Bounty (small box)


Romanesco: Architectural masterpiece


Two-toned turnips


Flat-leaf parsley, red and green basil


Sweet and juicy cherry tomatoes 


Perfect, crunchy carrots just waiting for houmous


Big bowl of salad; Pickle loves eating the flowers


And a bonus bunch of flowers for the table


Naked under the sun

Naked under the sun,
my girl takes me by the hand,
walks me down the lane.
Friends stop to admire her;
she to study them.
A car crawls towards us
and we press back into hedge.
One, four, many wasps.
My friend shouts and darts away.
Stung.
Shouts again.
Now they are pouring out.
I lift my skirt to cover my child
and walk steadily away.
She, delighted,
buzzes in my arms.


Holiday

Lying
hot, hot
on the lawn,
slowly filling canvas,
I am grateful the internet
has taken a holiday.


Wool wash

So concerned
at my family's absence,
I did a wool wash.


Canvas children

I have called more
canvas children in,
to shape and nurture,
set boundaries for
and learn from,
but mostly to watch
as they grow.

And finally, love given liberty. This brought a tear to my eye:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-14271370

Monday, 4 July 2011

Marriage

After spiked words,
We pause.
A hand on my shoulder
As I make two cups of tea.
Marriage is all in the recovery.
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