long time, long time

long time, long time

Where, or where do the days fly to? Possibly south to the sunshine of warmer climes. They are certainly not hanging around for me to luxuriate in them. However. The last two weeks at University have been productive and creative. All my lovely doll contributors will be delighted to know that the fate of the squashies is sealed. I will not reveal it until I am sure that I have the ability to actually produce it, except to say that I am very, very excited. Less successfully, I cannot seem to get my 'print' mojo in gear, and therefore I am pretending that the print room does not exist for now. I close my eyes when I walk past it, and try not to dwell on the creative vacuum that lurks for printmaking in my world. My 'snippets of fabric' collection requires another 250 samples to complete the piece that they are attached to. The entire operation of locating 600 tiny pieces of fabric, no two the same, sometimes feels like an impossible task. If I ask you repeatedly if you have a scrap fabric bag, and can I share it, just nod and smile. I will move onwards to another victim....

Am beginning to think about a subject for my 3500 word essay. Its likely to be contemporary body and performance art. This may well encompass an artist who masturbated below a false floor as his performance in a gallery, and another who covered himself in his own excrement prior to masturbating and then vomiting. I kid you not. Its a journey of discovery. Just researching at the moment. It needs a strong stomach and a broad mind.

The farmer and I have snatched a weekend away near Battle and Hastings, mostly thanks to the kindness of our lovely niece Emily. She gallantly drove over twice a day and exercised/fed the hounds. Without this assistance we could not have made the weekend, so are truly grateful (as were the dogs...). Photos follow:

the Farmer & Mr Black singing in the rain

Mr and Mrs Black sheltering from a downpour in the crypt.

Myself, at the end of a long day. Tired, muddy and looking like a tramp. Enjoying the only bit of sunshine against the walled garden wall (can I write that?) When I stood up some sort of alarming weed had deposited thousands of tiny, sticky seeds all over my back and bum, and I'm still picking them out of the wool of the jacket. I know it wasn't there when I sat down.....

The driest soldier in the army...

We attended a huge re-enactment of the Battle of Hastings. In the rain. And the mud. And the cold. All day. In fact, despite everything the weather could throw at us, quite a happy and exciting time was had by all. And the re-enacters, all 1000 of them, were absolutely marvellous.

Adieu, adieu for now.