New paintings and regular art updates.
I have a little lens and light that used to fit over my old mobile. I took a few photos while I had the old one which I just found in my gallery, because I transferred the memory card over. I might publish a few more. Is this called macro photography or micro photography? I can’t remember. Anyway this reminds me that you don’t have to stick to one style of doing things. You can experiment and see whether you can do things a different way. Be open to new ideas…..
Reviewing old photos from a few years ago I came across some pictures of Dahlias. This one of a pompom Dahlia really resonated. I remembered my father used to grow them in the summer when I was a child. He had a whole patch of them, this shape and more shaggy ones. I remember I could see spirals in them. They were all different reds and oranges, whites and magenta and yellows. Striking against the green leaves and stems. They were in a small back garden and next to a pile of soil where we children would play ‘I’m the king of the castle get down you dirty rascak’ not sure how that worked except we competed to be at the top of the pile of soil…. Memories are random and come back infrequently. I just remember the Dahlias and sunshine.
Five years? Where did they go? How have I changed and what am I doing differently.
The trouble is remembering everything. It’s half a decade after all. Along the way I’ve made friends here, and also lost a few. Like ghosts they just disappeared from WordPress. People I enjoyed reading most days just stopped, but without resolution or explanation in most cases. Even the ones I found elsewhere then disappeared again off the new platforms.
The trouble is trying to keep things fresh, trying to discuss different ideas. I used to write little short stories sometimes, spooky little tales that had a twist in the tail, but I don’t know if they were any good. I’m still writing short poems some humerous, some more serious. And I try and write about my artistic endeavours, whether that’s about painting or illustration. I hope they are not too boring. It’s been a bad few months and I know I haven’t been as upbeat as I could be. We will see what comes in the future but I hope I can keep going without getting too boring or inconsistent. Thank you for following me! ❤️
I couldn’t sleep last night and watched a few short adaptations of some M. R. James ghost stories, including one called the Mezzotint. The writer who adapted them is called Mike Gatiss and is well known for his involvement in the Sherlock series of detective mystery TV shows and other clever stories.
I realised that A Christmas Carol is a ghost story! Sounds strange but I think of it as a Christmas story and it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside rather than the slight weirded out shudder I get from ghost stories at this time of year. But then I prefer a taut, spooky, tension building story any day to a horror film, all lumbering zombies and nightmarish vampires. The ones where people Always run upstairs towards the danger instead of out the front door and to the safety of the police station (I mean a British police station, no guns, no odd sheriff who arrests you instead of looking for the real culprit, no hidden secret). No I prefer the subtle horror of a tap that continues to drip even after the lead piping connecting it to the mains water has been severed by a hacksaw… Or the gradual encroachment of a garden full of roses with sharp thorns and a deadly scent that can envelope an unwary new tenant attempting to cut back the thorny undergrowth.
And why do they put on these spooky little horrors at this time of year? Is it the lengthening hours of dark, dank, cold, mist and fog? The snow falling so that tracks can be left but then fade before an investigation can find them in the morning? Subtle screams muffled by an unseasonably rising tide? Its like a box of dark chocolates, with Evil centres.
I am quite particular in what I prefer. No evil dead films. More sneaking spooks, less fangs, more clues.
Well I decided to go back and join in our local penkhull panto because I need to start getting out and stop moping about. So… Its been in rehersal for weeks, so I’ve not been cast as anyone but I should be helping with the scenery. Maybe some props, it’s bringing back good memories…
The production is Robin Hood and we already had a script from a couple of years ago. It’s not on until the new year. It should be a laugh…. Oh yes it will be… Oh no it won’t.. Oh yes it will
Oh I get fed up, too many emails, I keep deleting them, but sometimes they reappear in my inbox. I have to admit I don’t know how many I actually have. I keep some from friends that I have had for years. I just don’t know if I can delete them, they are my contact with the past… What do you do? How much memory do they take up? Should I delete the lot?
A blanket by my sister. She was crocheting lots of blankets and granny squares. One of the things she had was many balls of wool. I think they will have to go to a new home. It’s good to see she was creative in a different way to me, but she must have put many hours of work into this. I will truly miss her.
It’s social media so I’m not sharing her whole face or naming her. But she had a good Farewell yesterday, kind words and thoughts. We seperated in late teenage hood as I left home to go to college. We went in different directions, I think she had a more romantic view of life and she had an almost fairy tale history (married with two children). I won’t talk much about her world, I don’t want to share too much personal information. We were seperated by many miles, but the bond was still there. I wish we had been closer and visited more. Bereavement is full of regret. I do regret, but I don’t feel guilty.
Once I had a drawing (this took thirty minutes), I played with different filters to create different effects. This was using the negative filter on my phone. I have so many sketches and sketch books that I think I ought to store together. I also have thousands of photos on my phone. It’s a way of keeping memories and meaning. But sometimes the photos you really want are the ones you never remembered to tske…
When the exact size and shaped leaf falls on your picnic plate. I moved it over to line up with the stem. I had to take a photo
Today was a good one. I sang, I laughed, I cried and I felt supported by friends and by the world. I found a plastic heart that had fallen off a picture and was stuck with bluetack to the bottom of my slipper. But that bit of plastic was whole, not broken. A sign? Perhaps, I took the decision to accept it as that and it made me smile.
Mallaband-Brown