dolce far niente

(the sweetness of doing nothing)

Circe

(she's not doing nothing, she's busy being the daughter of the sun, a sorceress best known for her ability to turn men into animals with her magic wand and also renowned for her knowledge of magic and poisonous herbs)

Destiny

(she's not doing nothing, she's busy being a contemplative female at the center of an ambiguous allegorical scene, a beautiful woman staring into the distance; in front of her, an open book, behind her, a large circular mirror - which has an interesting compositional effect: it drastically limits the depth of the scene and blocks the view of the room and of the exterior natural space. . . however, it simultaneously serves as a sort of window because it shows a view of the world outside) (altho the scene seems straightforward, it is filled with inconsistencies and impossibilities and there are many spatial discrepancies - for example, a globe that is reflected in the mirror does not appear in the actual room! the image in the mirror is not realistic: it represents either an unknown future or more likely a vision experienced by the woman with the cup. . . the title of the work, "Destiny," supports this)

Psyche Opening The Golden Box

(she's not busy doing nothing, she's busy being the bride of Cupid and at the same time being seriously troubled. . . her mind seems full of doubts and dread as to whom she is sharing her life with - why can’t she ever see him? is he really a beast who, as her sisters have warned, will one night kill her in her sleep? here we see her with an enchanted vessel that Venus has ordered her to fetch from Proserpine, from which Psyche hopes to steal a bit of allure and thus regain the love of Cupid)

Circe Invidiosa

(she's not doing nothing, she's being a Victorian femme fatale and is in the act of posoining the water that her rival is bathing in. . .)

The Crystal Ball

(she's not doing nothing, she's busy with a crystal ball - crystal balls being used for the process of "seeing", known as "scrying": a magic practice that involves clairvoyance in a medium, usually for purposes of obtaining spiritual visions and more rarely for purposes of divination or fortune-telling. . .)

(no, I wasn't busy doing nothing; yes, I went to another exhibition! once again at the Royal Academy, but this time John William Waterhouse; as you know, I love the Pre-Raphaelites. . .)

oh darn

or, rather, stitch. . .

so - having done a little picture research to find the image for the above, I now find this:

and these. . .

help!

and a spot of culture

(equally stunning)

an exhibition at the Royal Academy
of the wood blocks of Kuniyoshi

sharing the good stuff

a friend showed me a couple of things recently

anyone else seen Free Hugs yet?
it's very sweet!

and as for Where the H*ll is Matt. . .
just marvellous!
(click on the YouTube link to enjoy)

hot off the press

a morph memorial for Tony Hart

when I was a child, I used to eagerly await the day when Vision On was shown. . .

my parents weren't the sort to encourage televisual participation - my brothers and I were only allowed to watch certain things that were deemed "suitable". . . (they didn't even tell us about "the other channel" for years, as they were concerned about the effects the adverts would have on our young minds) - so I was never allowed to send in a picture for the gallery. . . but I did in my dreams!

oh, how I dreampt of one of my pictures being chosen by Tony Hart - it's not that I wanted to see it on screen, just for Tony Hart to have seen my attempts at art

(come to think about it, I always wanted a Blue Peter badge too: only my mother didn't approve of sticky backed plastic or Peter Purves or Lesley Judd - she liked Valerie Singleton who was very sensible and wore sensible shoes and she just about tolerated John Noakes - so I wasn't ever allowed to write in or even make anything they labouriously showed how to construct. . . "and here's one I made earlier" never featured in my childhood apart from seeing it on the box. . . I sneaked a go at John's Cheese Flaps once, a kind of fried cheese potato cake, but my mother told me off because they were too cheesey) (I digress)
.
so when I heard of Tony Hart's death a while back now, I was very sad. . . when Oliver Postgate died I was equally sad, but receiving a Knit a Clanger tag on FaceBook made me smile. . .

. . .but noone tagged me about the event at Tate Modern today - I'd have had a far more interesting Sunday if I'd known about it!

nonetheless,
better late than never. . .

. . .this is what I have found to share with you: click on the link on the right "Morph 'flashmob' at Tate gallery" to see it in its glory and hear the tune that I hummed all those years ago as I went to sleep. . .

they kind of remind me of Antony Gormley's miriads of tiny terracotta people. . .

and I quote*:

"You know the drill.

"Answer the questions and then post on your blog to expose yourself to ridicule. If you don’t post this within 48 hours of receiving a tag**, for the rest of your life, more than two-thirds of every breath you take will be nitrogen."

(*you can tell I'm quoting from someone else, far too much punctuation - well, full stops, and capital letters, to be specific - for my liking!)

(**and that's not a threat, but this man issued it if you want to take it up with anyone)

1. If I were to engage in se*ual activity with three members of the se* to which I am currently not attracted, I would choose:

   a starfish,
   
   a pelican and
   
   a flamingo;
   and - OH! I'm on a roll -
   
   snowdrops and peppermills
   
   (and NO! I'm not being rude
   - I like fresh coarsely ground pepper on my daily salad -
   salad is so much more reliable than se*)
   
   


2. Of the following list:
   
   Pedagogue
   Bodewash
   Vicissitude
   Anthropophagy
   Callipygian
   Steatopygic
   Defenestrate…
   
   my favourite is: why Vicus, of course! (altho I do quite like calligraphy) (not Caligula, or Kaliyuga even, but calligraphy)
   
   
   
   calligraphy on a driftwood box
   - doesn't get much better than this!
   
   



3. You’re in a desert walking along in the sand when all of the sudden you look down, and you see a tortoise, it’s crawling toward you. You reach down; you flip the tortoise over on its back. The tortoise lies on its back, its belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs trying to turn itself over, but it can’t, not without your help. But you’re not helping.
   
   Why is that? I put my back out when I bent down the first time - serves me right, but oh! that poor tortoise. . . (I always thought they were self righting)
   
   
   

4. Rank the following from 1 to 5 (1 being the best):
   
   Tri-cut Manila Folders 2
   Q-Tip Brand Cotton Swabs 1
   A highball glass full of tepid drinking water depends how thirsty I was
   Three assorted length drywall screws 4
   





5. Describe in single words, only the good things that come into your mind about your mother.
   
   erm. . . she could knit and embroider without making a mistake. . . she made jam that set perfectly and jelly that was totally clear. . . she made very good custard from only egg yolks, sugar and milk. . . she made very good meringues from the egg whites left over from the custard. . . she never left her husband despite the fact she was very unhappily married. . . she took my brothers and I on holiday once to Norway and we travelled around by the local buses and she never once took the wrong bus or missed a connection. . . she introduced me to art. . .
   
   (even tho she then said I couldn't study it at college because "nice girls don't go to art college")
   
   (ok, I have to stop here or this will just go downhill)
   
   
   

6. How many States can you name from memory?
   
   desparation, loneliness, sadness, lostness, regret. . .
   
   oh I think I better stop again. . .
   
   

7. If you were to rename yourself (first, middle and last), what would you choose?

Ross or Frost or Fleming would be my last name (Ross because I'm related to a Ross, Frost because I'm related to a Frost and Fleming because I'm related to a Fleming); I've always thought middle names to be a bit of a waste, but I'd choose the letter X or Q because they don't get enough of a look in as far as I'm concerned and I would choose my first name to continue to be my first name because otherwise I'd just get confused if/when people talk to me. . .





8. Which of the following does not belong: Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, Mercedes-Benz CLK55 AMG, Mercedes-Benz SLC Gullwing, Mercedes-Benz SLK55 AMG?
   
   

   did someone mention gulls?
   I like gulls!
   
   

9. Pick one: Matthew McConaughey, Josh Lucas, David Beckham. . .
   
   hmmmmmmm I get to pick a man? well, you know me. . .
   
   

   Niles!
   
   

10. Pick one: Eva Mendes, Vanessa Marcil, Eva Longoria. . .

Meg! can I pick Meg?

OH!
I think I just did. . .

one for sorrow, two for joy

one for sorrow, two for joy;
three for a girl, four for a boy;
five for silver, six for gold;
seven for a secret, never to be told;
eight for a wish, nine for a kiss;
ten for a bird that's best to miss
.
* .
the magpie (pica pica)
.

an overview:

Magpies seem to be jacks of all trades - scavengers, predators and pest-destroyers, their challenging, almost arrogant attitude has won them few friends. With its noisy chattering, black-and-white plumage and long tail, there is nothing else quite like the magpie in the UK. When seen close-up its black plumage takes on an altogether more colourful hue with a purplish-blue iridescent sheen to the wing feathers, and a green gloss to the tail. Non-breeding birds will gather together in flocks.

.

so, being a bit of a jack myself I scavanged a thought from Dave today. . .

and am revisiting Kahil Gibran's The Prophet. . .

.
Then a woman said,
"Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."
.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
.
needs must, eh

resolved

there've been a lot of things on my mind this week

I won't bore you with the list, but a list there was and I have been trying to work my way thru the items, one by one - not necessarily in any order, despite my urgent/important grid

you remember that one, from all that personal development and management training the powers that were used to think so important back in the late 80s, early 90s? (perhaps they still do - but I don't know anymore) I can't work out how to do the four little boxes, but they were:

URGENT & IMPORTANT/IMPORTANT NOT URGENT
NOT IMPORTANT BUT URGENT/NEITHER IMPORTANT NOR URGENT

if you see what I mean. . .

so the missing filling that I need replacing in my cracked molar is important and getting more urgent, but sorting out the plumber to mend the drip that is now a leak is urgent even tho it's not really important, the electrics neither urgent nor important but they need doing at some stage

and so it goes on,
but I promised not to bore you with it all

there was something VERY important and VERY urgent that's been on the list for three weeks now - delayed for various reasons out of my control, so I just had to sit back and wait (and worry, as I do); delayed again because of the snow earlier this week and rearranged to this morning

well, it's sorted now;
resolved; satisfactorily,
for all concerned

and I'm almost elated; no, actually, I'm not elated, I'm just very very very very relieved. . .

perhaps I shouldn't/needn't have worried so much in the first place? what is the purpose of worrying? does it have an evolutionary benefit, above and beyond raising one's adrenalin levels to the/a fight or flight decision? I doubt it
.

I have/need to learn to worry less, I really do - all my worries about this specific issue came to nought; they didn't help me think thru the issues any more clearly than my initial response. . .
.

. . .my initial response, which provided my course of action this morning for dealing with this issue, was the right one: I should have trusted my judgement, perhaps
.

I should have trusted
.

(-:

.
I'm reading an excellent book on living with grief at the moment, it's not totally relevant to my situation and I probably should have read it 18 years ago (I so hate Valentine's Day and it's only a week away now) but it is helping me, hugely
.

putting a lot of things into
perspective
.

one thing that I hadn't appreciated was just how long things take for you/one (well, me) to get over - initially the whole thing is so huge you (me) can't comprehend it all, but gradually you (me) start to take it all in
.

a little like an elephant task - remember that one? how to you eat an elephant? in small bites. . .
.

poor elephant
.

)-:

.
and it reminds me of the "wave" from earlier this week - the one that threw me back onto that beach - how just when you think it's safe to go back in the water, something still manages to bite you (oh, I'm mixing up all my metaphors now) (but I don't care) (!)
.

and now, here I am again, dipping my toes in again, hoping to be able to let go again. . .
.

one thing sorted from the list, one thing ticked. . . one thing to be able to let go of. . .
.

one thing less to worry about!
.

(-:
.
I hope you have fewer things to worry about today
than you did yesterday. . .

even if it's only ONE THING

cuckoo

clocks that is

I have one - did I tell you?

not quite the same as that, mine is all white (no painted detail) and has two more birds on it

it's a cheap modern version, battery run (not wound up by the chains) and most of the time the "cuckoo" is turned off (the children don't find it as amusing as I do)

weirdly - but not suprisingly in these modern techo days I suppose - the "cuckoo" sounds like a recording of a real bird in a wood, it kind of echoes too

have you ever walked in a wood and heard a cuckoo's "cuckoo"? it's one of the more identifiable sounds, a little like a woodpecker's hammer or a pigeon's "my toes hurt polly"

I miss watching the seagulls wheel about above the shore, and hearing their screech. . . the house is full of birds tho - seagulls in the living room (remember the art that yearned for me?!) and in the kitchen (a series of etchings by one of the artists on my course). . .

and birds flying up to the boys' rooms on the third floor of the house - I found these really cool decals for brightening up dull walls and bought them way back in the spring, I discovered them the other day when I was tidying and sorting. . .

ours are black and grey and white birds tho. . .
I'm very tempted by this one:
.

(but I'll wait until the new year and
see how far my decorating budget stretches)
.
(check out the Supernice shop tho -
the decals are such fun!)

in the mean time, the children aren't here to hear so the cuckoo is keeping me company today

hope you have a good one

so I look for something. . .

. . .and I can't find it
.
but I found this instead. . .

Ta mo chleamhnas deanta o athru areir
S'ni mo na go dtaithnioonn an bhean liom fein

Ach fagfaidh me i mo dhiaidh i'gus imeoidh me liom fein
Ar fud na gcoillte craobhach.

My match it was made here last night
To a girl I neither love nor like
But I'll take my own advice
And leave her behind
And go roaming the wild woods all over.

Shiuil mise thoir agus shiuil mise thiar.
Shiuil mise Corcaigh 'gus sraide Bh'l'ath Cliath
Ach samhail de mo chailin deas ni fhaca mise riamh.
'Si an bhean dubh a dhfhag mo chroi craite.

I walked up and I walked down.
I walked Cork, and Dublin, and Belfast towns,
But no equal to my true love could I find.
She's the wee lass that's left my heart broken.

D'eirigh me ar maidin dha uair roimh an la
'gus fuair me litir o mo mhile ghra
Chuala me an smoilin 's an londubh a ra
Gur ealiagh mo ghra thar saile.

I got up two hours before day
And I got a letter from my true love.
I heard the blackbird and linnet say
That my love had crossed the ocean.

TRADITIONAL

why pangolins dream of quiche

WHY PANGOLINS DREAM OF QUICHE

no, not "do androids dream of electric sheep" or "green ideas sleep furiously" - or even "the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog" - but a sentence that uses most of the letters needed for typeface identification. . .

(a typeface using Roman characters, obviously)

I love typeface

I find it fascinating

when I was paid to write and think (yeah, I know - gobsmacking, eh), one of my roles included responsibility for commissioning corporate design

once I had to commission new typefaces (but not a new "logo", thank goodness) (it was the same company that recently came up with the "logo" for promoting 2012, g*d help us) - a serif and a sans serif font for use (only according to the manual tho) by the very large and successful company which paid me to think and write

the designers weren't asked to come up with a totally new typeface, but to suggest which two fonts out of the myriads available, should be exclusively used (according to the manual) throughout the company. . .

the idea was that if everyone who was responsible for producing written communications used only either or both of the same two typefaces and no other (in accordance with the manual), the communications from the company would seem more "cohesive"

*raises eyebrows*
*gazes up to the ceiling*
*shrugs*, *hums*, *whistles*
and also
- all these years later -
* shirks all responsibilty for "The Manual"*

.
(anyone who ever had to produce or use a corporate identity manual will know exactly what I'm referring to)

this project involved many trips to the design company's offices, a short walk from the office where I worked

the best thing about a trip to the designers was the lunch in their canteen

and the second best thing was the door to one of the presentation rooms, which was hinged not at the edge but two thirds of the way across the span - the door was fashioned from a slice thru a wooden aeroplane wing and was the most beautiful oval shape and moved in a very sultry fashion (for a door)

anyhow, the inspiration for these thoughts and reminiscences (that noone is paying me for in £ or $ terms, but which earn me unmeasurable quantities of pleasure and joy by being able to share them with you) came from here

(via the V&A gift shop)

and this is what I have on the desk next to me. . .

the good, the bad and the. . .

ugly
(dolls)
.

these are Mini-Teen's favourite cuddly companions. . . she has a small collection. . .
.

when I was eleven age I had a rag doll, who I treasured, I made clothes and accessories for the rag doll - I'd grown out of my teddy bear (who was actually a panda) and a rag-doll was, I suppose, a suitable transition from a cuddly panda to a few cuddles and a little pandering. . .
.

years ago now, when I was a succesful home-business-crafts-woman in The Village, I used to make old fashioned rag-dolls, with full sets of clothes and accessories, and sell them to the wives who didn't know how to thread a needle. . . (or couldn't be bothered. . . or who had other gifts and strengths. . .) at Christmas time as well as a huge variety of tree decorations, and home-made Christmas cakes, and Boxing Day chutnies, and candles, and festive biscuits, and stockings, I used to make rag-doll style fairies for the tops of the trees of the same wives' families - all of whom craved "hand-made" inidividual items in an age of mass consumerism, but didn't know how to hand-make themselves. . . (they didn't have mothers like mine, it seems)
.

today's eleven year-olds don't do "dolls" of the traditional kind. . .
.

. . .and it seems that M-T is a chip off the old block! (oh my g*d - I'm turning into my mother!!) it's her new best friend's birthday, and rather than buy said friend an Ugly Doll, M-T is making her one
.

this is a very very long, quite labour intensive process, and it's fully occupying me today (it's occupied us for the last four days, actually - the "design process" has taken hours to come to fruition) - we're having a great time: cutting patterns, pinning them onto fabric, threading needles, tying knots, stitching details, adding hair (she specifically wants her friend's gift to have "hair", unlike the dolls in her collection); the design is all M-T's own (altho she was inspired by her own dolls) and despite the fact that it's tricky and almost beginning to wear on my patience (I keep reminding myself that she is only eleven and this is all quite new to her!) it is a lovely way to spend the day
.

no time to think my own thoughts right now (altho it is odd to remember all the people, who will adorn their trees this year with items made with my own love, from whom I haven't heard a word in 18 months)

the light fantastic

last night I learned about light art
.
it was absolutely fascinating, and I'd like to share it with you - there's a link at the bottom to the tv show. . .
.
. . .you know I don't really do tv, but this is worth the investment of your time - as it was mine
.
a glimpse:
.

JAMES TURRELL

his Skyspaces were something else -
if they look that good on tv,
they must be mind-blowing in real life;
here's an image:
.

which does nothing convey the wonder of the real thing;
not that I saw the real thing, but imagine it in 3D:
..
a huge room, blank walls and ceiling
lit by ever changing colours of clear light,
from an indefinable source,
with a space in a wall or the ceiling
thru which you view the sky
. ..
this is a series of images of one such Skyspace
altho the room is not lit by coloured light in this instance:
.

in one of the Skyspace installations shown,
the coloured lighting of the room gradually changed
thru the most beautiful hues; and
- the point of the exercise -
the, initially blue, sky seemed to changed colour*
.
it did so according to the "colour" of the room,
as the room, the walls/ceiling, the areas surrounding the spaces
- thru which we watch the sky -
changed

(*or at least that's how your brain interprets the visual image)

DAN FLAVIN

(he works with coloured fluorescent strip bulbs)
.
below, one of my favourite images:
the sun, painting itself on a canvas, as a series of burns
..
(the sun shines thru a huge lens onto a huge canvas,
over a period of hours)
(remember focusing the sun with a magnifying glass
onto pieces of paper [or ants, if you had cruel brothers]
when we were little? just like that - only bigger)
..
the gaps in the curves show you where the clouds came
and the splurgy bits are when conditions were moist. . .
(to be understood, it really needs to be viewed landscape,
I think,
not portrait)

CHARLES ROSS

there is another image I want to show you, by a British artist, one of the sunshine between the equinoxes as viewed from the Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol. . . it wasn't in the show, I read about it in New Scientist the other week, but I can't recall the chap's name. . .

(imagine, on auntie beeb last night, here's the link for anyone with almost an hour to spare in the pursuit of enlightenment - it will be 50 minutes of your time very well spent, IMHO)

for mel

what your Jack-o-Lantern says

you tend to be a goofy, optimistic person. . . you enjoy Halloween more than anyone else you know! this Halloween be as silly as you can - dress up as a GIANT version of a small object . . . the candy you should give out: laffy taffy

take the Jack-o-Lantern quiz here. . .

aquired coffee beans, aquired milk. . . onwards

today I am going to see this:

and 48 others, that I understand are quite similar. . .

I'm looking forward to it - I love colour, I happen to love paint chips (you know, those little fold-outs that one gets with all the variations of colour available from a manufacturer), I'm not pretentious about the art that I like and have no qualms if something is unusual or a little different

I happen to love things that make people say "a child could have done that!": show me that child and I'll show you an artist. . .

here's more about my trip, if you're interested; if you are interested, there is a YouTube clip at the bottom which is well worth watching

facing upstream, floating downstream

there is a flock of cormorants on the river, in the water, all facing west but going with the flow (east)
.

yesterday two swans flew upstream at my level (eight floors high) such that I could see their flight in great detail: such huge solid bodies, such strong wings, beating in synchrony, so effortless to watch - incredible
.

a little later I walked across the bridge, under what had been the swans' path and took the tube into London
.

I went to see an incredible art installation by someone I'd never heard of, but perhaps ought to have done? viewing the same exhibition with me was one of the world's richest men, a Russian, who - amongst other things - owns a football club that is just over the river (so just that I can see the floodlights from The Tower when there is an evening game)

rɐˈman ɐrˈkadʲjevʲɪtɕ ɐbrɐˈmovʲɪtɕ

and his girlfriend*
.
the girlfriend is spending this guy's money (she's got up to US$12 billion to play with, it must be fun) amassing a huge collection of art for him - but as you know, I don't do celebrity so wouldn't have recognised him if it hadn't been pointed out; but - and mel you're gonna love this - apparently his first footstep on the ladder of success was selling plastic ducks!
.
(*you'd think the first thing she'd have done was bought him a razor, wouldn't you?)
.
of far more interest to me was the art. . .

. . .sculpture

anyone who's been around long enough will remember how much I love sculpture, especially the Hepworth in Cornwall
.

(-:
.

these pieces would dwarf those, they were. . .
.

. . .HUGE PIECES OF SCULPTURE

the work of RICHARD SERRA

not this specific piece,
(which was at MOMA in NYC)

but I like the image
and it gives you an idea
of the proportions of the pieces that I saw

the pieces I was were SO VeRY enormous that one of my first questions was "how on earth did they get it in here!?"

(I'm so vEry naive)
.

later I read a review and it turns out that the gallery - of course - had effectively been rebuilt so that these steel sculptures could be put in place, assembled for Joe and Josephine Public to view at their hearts' content
.

I write view, because - disappointingly - one wasn't allowed to touch the work

I like touching sculpture

I like hugging trees too, but that's a different story altogether

walking thru the pieces was a little like walking in a forest where the tree trunks have been welded together so that you have but one path to follow. . .
.

one of the pieces was a very very large flat slab of steel, standing on its edge, with the most wonderful rust and decay in the metal - it was so large that even standing back at the edge of the gallery space one could not take in the whole piece at once

in fact it drew you in, so despite its size I found myself looking so closely that the security guard (who I think was there to stop people abusing the work, rather than abusing the Russian - but I'm not sure) kept his beady eye on me to try and ensure I didn't end up in physical contact with the metal. . .
.

. . .it's hard to explain, and I'm not eloquent enough to describe how it felt - here's a link so you can get a glimpse, altho that won't convey the physical sensation of being in the exhibition space
.

but quite why it makes me think of the swans' flight along the river, I don't know

a small diversion from the bingo

with huge quantities of thanks to vicus

now, remember how I don't "do" politics on-line? and you know that neither do I "do" religion on-line, right? well, I certainly do not "do" sex on-line either, however. . . this made me. . . smile

I always wanted one of these when I was a child

and now I have discovered
.
this
.
time to play!

I was researching "etching" on the internet

check out Atlas of Dreams here

(go to Artwork, then Atlas of Dreams and then scroll thru the plates. . . they are incredible)