On my desk Wednesday

I can't resist this meme going around (thanks, Kootoyoo!) Now, I'm not going to take a photo of my desk this week because you can't see it! It's dark and gloomy in there, and the desk is piled high with fabric, books, postcards, and all sorts of delights that I brought back from my travels abroad. - Which I plan to show you soon in a "Bottom of the Suitcase Show". But for now, I count "all over the desk" to be the same thing as "unpacked".

This is what's been on my desk for the last few days:


I've been drawing and doodling like mad for the new blog I'm setting up with Jennifer of CraftSanity. We'll be all done in a day or two! I'll let you know when the excitement begins.

B

Visit the continent

What an image!

This is a postcard that I picked up last month at the National Railway Museum, in York (UK). It's a copy of a railway poster, designed by R.E. Higgins in 1933 for the London and North Eastern Railway.

I love the strong black shape of her dress (that lovely dress!). - And the way the dark dress and her black cap of hair pull the figure towards you, visually. That haircut's almost brutal, but it, and her confident, graceful posture, make her striking and stunning. The artist set the kiosk in the background in a way that echoes the shape of her head - two dark domes - and the softer navy blue of the kiosk pushes it into the background, which creates depth against the silhouette of the cityscape.

Everything's flat: there are no contour lines, no shading on any of the figures or forms, the horizon is flat - but there's a sense of depth that pulls you in. It's almost dizzying, and that's the effect that makes it work.

It's so stylish, isn't it? Everything about the construction of this poster says: "I am an image, I was designed to be this way. I am stylish, and a little influenced by Japan, and very, very, up to date" Just like the prospect of going to Paris for a little shopping. In 1933.

Higgins, I raise my hat to you!
(the one I've got in this enormous feather-light hat box slung casually over my arm...).

Sunshine at last! (briefly)

Have you ever noticed how a dog can stare? I mean, these guys outlast any staring competition champions for bore-into-your-neck laser beam stares of a high calibre nature. The one aimed at me now is saying "Take me for a walk! I require walking, human!" I suspect this post will be short.

Here's the culprit (on the walk he had yesterday, heaven forbid he insinuate that I never take him out).


The main reason I took the picture is that I love that graffiti at the end of the railway bridge. Arrrh. It's comical-odd-scary, and I reckon it's dead cool.

Arrh!

Here's a quick pic of what I was working on yesterday. I wanted to learn how to make bags, and so I worked out my own method - sort of like doing a jigsaw puzle, or a logic puzzle, which was the main attraction of the exercise. And I wanted to use this YUMMY fabric scrap given to me by Eileen in Toronto. Thank you, Eileen!


When we get some more sunshine, I'll photo the completed thing. I love it already (and it's already full of hexagons - crazy laugh here - )

Did someone just say the 'W' word? Must go.

B

Having so much fun...

This evening was ace. It's cold outside and the rain rushes down every so often, but we're all cuddled up with projects and good books. What more would anyone want? I have just been reclining on the sofa with a toasty-warm dog snuggled into my lap, and my guilty pleasure reading. Here's a lovely bit of overplaying from a comic sequence halfway through. - 'La, sir!'

I've got lots of crafty things on the go that I want to share, but with so little sunshine over the last few days, I am waiting for some good light. Indoor photos are so depressing, flash or no flash.

But while dinner cooked tonight, I was having a fantastic time drawing on fabric.


The fabric is part of a monthly challenge I'm working on, and I was looking at it, thinking: 'Hmm, this could be jellyfish, or strange lurid faces, or wobbly TVs, or flowers or people's heads...' So I decided to give it a go and see what came up. All sorts of things, is what! A pool, some fish, some aliens and a monster, jellyfish, lots of people, a TV and of course - a cup of tea. Mmm, one lump, please. Ta.

There will be more of this mad fun-ness along these lines - I promise. I'm addicted.

The dog sendeth up snores, and it's time for me to head to bed too. A bientot and back later with photos, one hopes.

B

Hexagons all around

Man, this is bad. Definitely serious: could be fatal. For so many years, I've resisted the hexagon quilt urge - so that now, my slippery slide into hexagonality is no halfway thing. It's an obsession. 

I've just been cutting papers and digging through my fabric bag for scraps big enough to make a hexagon. Pieces of everything, from old pyjamas to an ex-boyfriend's favourite shirt (sorry, Steve, I 'acquired' it back in second year), from the quilts I made for my sister and my mom, and even from a failed marble-dying attempt using my husband's old shirt. 

Clearly, men's shirts are not safe around me. 

(- see?)

The attraction is the prospect of actually using these scraps, and having them around in a quilt (I love the memories associated with the scraps in the scrappy quilt on our bed). The huge amount of time this will take and high likelihood that it will never be completed are definite detractors. Maybe that's why I'm pushing it now while I've got the bug. Snip snip!

---

 

Yesterday, I wandered down Smith and Gertrude streets, checking out what's up since we left for our trip three months ago. Scored some bargain t-shirts for screenprinting - did I mention I've signed up for a screenprinting course? I can't wait! And had a sloppy roast beef and horseradish sandwich and stopped in to Meet me at Mike's for a spare copy of Mixtape. Plus a quick sigh around Books for Cooks and a dash through Dean's art supplies, where beautiful paper mysteriously became mine. *happy sigh* 

All of these things, and more, for projects and ideas which do NOT involve hexagons. 

- Right? 

It arrived!

... and my, my, it's good.

Simple kneads

I made bread the other day, to a simple recipe from Allan Campion and Michele Curtis's Every Day in the Kitchen. I turn to this cookbook when I need a quick and simple recipe for a half-remembered family favourite, like Hungarian chicken or pot roast, and when I was new in Australia and wanted to explore some easy, Asian-influenced everyday dishes (Chinese crispy-skinned chicken, anyone?) They even have several recipes freely available online, so if you're interested, you can see for yourself.

With the cold weather in Melbourne continuing, I find I'm lured outside into sunshine without sufficiently considering the need for multiple layers. And halfway down the block I'm belted by the wind, so when the dog walk's over, I'm in the kitchen with a rage for slow-cooking, standing-over-the-stove stirring and batch baking. (Excuse me, did someone down at the back just make an 'oink' noise?) -Who am I kidding?

So, this loaf of bread, right? I liked it, but I didn't looove it. Lovely and golden, crusty on top, smelled great ('Honey, we can sell the house now, it smells of freshly baked bread! - We don't own it? Ah, yes.' Must have got wrapped up in dreams of domestic bliss again).

What I didn't love was the texture. It's more like a pound cake than a loaf of white bread. I was discussing this sad fact with my friend Meghan at the market this morning, and we agreed that I wasn't letting the gluten develop properly into strings. Yes, this is the kind of comment someone like Meghan would, thank heavens, understand completely (Dad, you too. I know you're out there).

So I resisted the urge to buy beautiful bread at the market in order to force myself to try again. I sifted the flour, added the salt and yeast, the bit of butter and the warm water, and then I looked at the recipe again: 'Knead for 6-8 minutes'. Ah. Hmm.

With my little orange cockerel timer set to 8 minutes, I started kneading. Whump, bump, stretch and push; whump, bump and repeat... and after what seemed like forever - must be at least 5 minutes - I snuck a peek at the timer. Which sat at somewhere between 1 and 2 minutes. Yes, well.

So now, having learned the value of time, my ultra-stretchy, 7-minute kneaded bread is sending up little tiny bubble-burps next to me as I type. I'll let you know how my experiment turns out. At the very least, the kneading session was a good warm-up workout!

B

PS. We had three slices each. (oink) It was perfect!