No use crying over spilt ink...

It's been a while. I feel as if I'm falling into the traps of the lazy blogger and it does bother me a bit; especially since I'm very disciplined by nature in things related to my craft. However, in an attempt to feel better about myself, I shall henceforth bracket 'blogging' (the act) with eating (the act and related preparation) as pursuits I follow unrestrictedly - no rules related to frequency or need, but to simple sheer pleasure.

Ok: now I feel better. We move on.

Have been keeping busier than ever and enjoying every minute. Have been 'visibly and most obviously' keeping very busy. Still my mum decides it is high time we give my rooms an overhaul! .. and panic strikes.. I have to leave my work and organize my stuff for if I were to leave it up to her, I'd have to endure a colour coded system for the next 6 months, where my jewellery pliers sit next to blue tape and blue embroidery thread just because their handles match.

Ok: cutting a long story short.

I came across some old sketches and went all fuzzy inside. I'm not particularly attached to anything I have painted or sketched over the years, but re-exploring old sketchbooks and folders brings back memories of instances of time your particularly selective memory has chosen to part with. Here's a badly photographed selection.


This one, in fact, I think I will frame. Something about it I like.. and it's been so long that I no longer feel as if I had 'inked' it. I like the distance created by time and sheer indifference .. slowly I think I can grow to love it again. I just hope it is something I did after all.



This is not an old sketch. This is an old painting, the existance of which, I was fully aware of. I had given it to my cousin. She took it to Norway. Then a couple of years later her place was robbed and the painting was taken with the lot. I wasn't told of this episode till her last visit this summer and now I love to think that someone actually chose to steal it because they liked it.. that it now resides in a new home (not a dump.. please not a dump! I could deal with mouldy attic.. or a run down mountain lodge but not a dump!)
Ok: probably it was thrown away when they realised 'it was a worthless piece of shit after all'. But a girl has the right to self-flatter.




On another note.. here's a photo of my (yes, stylized) worktable. I am trying my best to devote a couple of hours a day after all the sewing is done, to creating things, objects.. just like I used to. I once spent a month doing just that but now I feel slightly rusty and since the sewing process and the 'crafty' process vary so much (I promise they do.. clean workbench -vs.- all-glued-up workbench), I'm finding it really demanding on my nerves to switch at 10pm just because I need to.

Ok: I will stress less.

Off to prepare for my bartending duties at Wirdien. (http://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=lf#!/event.php?eid=146340098724156&ref=ts)