couleur locale

from Ellen Meloy's 'The Anthropology of Turquoise' chapter one, the Deeds and Sufferings of Light (my italics)

'Neurobiologists suggest that a keen human sensitivity to color begins when we are infants. An aesthetic sense, an intuitive link between a chromatic band and emotion, can then grow as strong as a fingerprint, defying logic and inviting the helpless surrender of a love affair. Intoxication with color, sometimes subliminal, often fierce, may express itself as a profound attachment to landscape. It has been rightly said:  Color is the first principle of Place.' 

latest cloth project: sewing pieces of home-dyed fabrics together, two layers thick, my favourite running stitch, letting it grow as-it-were-organically, resulting (I hope) in a table-cloth size piece; useful.....as such, or maybe hung in an open doorway during summer, preventing insects and small birds from flying indoors and becoming trapped

or else hanging curtain-wise as a shield against the sun's bright rays, softening the light; at night protecting one from darkened skies as we hurtle through space   

personally I love close-ups of stitching

yesterday, as we celebrated my 52nd birthday with family and a couple of friends, we were fortunate enough to witness these blue tits leaving their nest! 

I don't do a lot of quoting here, however I couldn't resist sharing yet another gem, this one from John William's  novel 'Augustus' (so worth reading!)

this quote is from Book III, where Augustus aged 77 (A.D. 14) is composing a letter to his old friend and philosopher Nicolaus of Damascus

'I have come to believe that in the life of every man, late or soon, there is a moment when he knows beyond whatever else he may understand, and whether he can articulate the knowledge or not, the terrifying fact that he is alone, and separate, and that he can be no other than the poor thing that is himself. I look now at my thin shanks, the withered skin upon my hand, the sagging flesh that is blotched with age; and it is difficult for me to realize that once this body sought release from itself in that of another; and that another sought the same from it. To that instant of pleasure some dedicate all their lives, and become embittered and empty when the body fails, as the body must. They are embittered and empty because they have known only the pleasure, and do not know what that pleasure has meant. For contrary to what we may believe, erotic love is the most unselfish of all the varieties; it seeks to become one with another, and hence to escape the self. This kind of love is the first to die, of course, failing as the body that carries it fails; and for that reason, no doubt, it has by many been thought to be the basest of the varieties. But the fact that it will die, and that we know it will die, makes it more precious; and once we have known it, we are no longer irretrievably trapped and exiled within the self.'

how edges meet

yesterday and today

we started the day with our regular morning stroll in the nearby woods, Django's nose more often than not stuck to the earth; in the afternoon however our walk was more about art, than nature, or was it?

seven walking women accompanied by two dogs walked from our street to the nearby Beeldentuin Asperen for a truly WonderFull sculpture exhibition, beautifully situated and many a witty/intriguing/beautiful/moving sculpture

above: Fallen by Harry Schumacher
below: The Big Big by Henk Wijnen & Martyn Last

video installation with a branch structure I liked and would like to recreate something similar in our garden, minus the TV

above: Torri by Marielle van der Bergh

M.

zwischen Zwiebel und Knoblauch by Ton Kalle

La Couronne by Cissy van der Wel

we poured water onto the flower and look how she comes to life

ha, a tree-on-wheels

I think these were my favourite: granite boulders half polished, casually strewn about, they reminded me of Denmark and the long, sunny summers of my childhood;
title: Steinzaat by Dorsten Diekmann

J. standing next to the large pod; Peul by Mai Movrin

my finds on the walk back home: extraordinary - perhaps thanks to having been exposed to Art I picked these up and then laid them out as a 'piece'

and last but not least, this tunic-shirt, a thrift-gift from J. -in image above with pod- it is such a beautiful item (I'm wearing it now even though the weather has turned very cold today, yikes)
it feels like I might have dyed it myself, it was in fact designed by a local fashion designer Ria van Kleef

 Saturday, drizzly and grey.....not particularly enticing at all.....and yet and yet there was a very good reason for getting up in time: Le Bric à Brac in het Lingebos just around our corner, thus making it literally in my neck of the woods; it is a charming, local flea market, third year running and luckily for me a market I can walk to, so Django yet again had an interesting busy walk. I always manage to stumble upon super bargains, this year being no exception as I scored this fabulous leather, worn jacket, fits me like a glove!

great catch!

from a distance: in the blue van on the right friend J. ran her stall; despite the wet weather people came in their droves, from as far as Rotterdam I heard, which is half an hour by car, for the privilege of walking about in mud and rain I think it just goes to show how popular this market has become.....

tea 'en plein air'

there are few things more rewarding than having an outdoor fire with a kettle on the boil

 

gardening

souvenirs from the beach

well, what can I say, I want to learn

over dyeing shirt with dandelion-sorrel-dye

I think this is a moth, found it on one of the walks in Greece; at first I thought it was black, now I see it's a very dark blue, quite amazing

found the egg intact but cold yesterday  plus the bird's bone, in completely different spots; Spring is rife with life & death, or rather that's how it is all year round, it's just that at this time of year it seems incongruous

full worktop with newly bought frame with a hare water colour, it consists of two glass panes between which you place your artwork/photo, which you then slip into a slot on top; below you can see what was in the frame: a nice feather-on-acrylic print

a garden is of course a delight to the mind and a joy for the senses, but at the same time jolly hard work, especially in the growing season and one has been away for a week; luckily yesterday the weather was just perfect for odd jobs in the garden and I had the time to do it:
 I planted three sage, three chive and three peppermint plants in the raised beds in our front yard, sowed a mixture of flower seeds in bed at the back (near North facing kitchen window) and American poppies under sweet chestnut, assuming they can handle shade, in the patch Django dug up and which looks pretty bare at the moment; pulled up dyeing plants for the first-dye-batch-with-seasonal-plants in casu dandelions and sorrel, weeded*, raked, spent what seemed like hours scraping between tiles on knees, or else stood in squat position for minutes-on-end and realised it all felt a bit familiar as it resembled the hours of exercise we enjoyed on our Grecian holiday .....I ended up by zealously starting to mow the ankle high grass, but all of a sudden felt completely fed up & knackered and midway through it all decided to call it a day while there was still daylight to be had.....who knows, maybe I should have started with the mowing - I am now hoping one of the guys will finish the job! 

*weeding doesn't mean I remove all weeds and dead stuff, obviously

husband found this empty nest in his shed (he is creating some kind of order in his chaos) a precursor to our lives, as the eldest will be leaving home soon, once the final exams are behind us - how time flies and even if I don't feel older, I do notice the boys are all grown-up now

life is good at this exact moment