Crow
Tag: Craftivism
Birds of happiness
Cwrs Haf
We’re in Aberystwyth, for a month of intensive Welsh grammar. There are verb patterns to remember. That’s quite straightforward, except there are some patterns that wander off in different directions. I’m reminded of School for Scoundrels, where it’s recommended to interrupt any knowledgeable but dull explanation with “Oh, but only in the south…”.
Placemat
I found a pattern for knitting a flat circle from the centre. Two attempts with jute yarn ended badly. This version was knitted like the top of a beret, decreasing a few stitches every other row.
Water drop coaster
There was a crochet pattern in a recent Water Aid magazine that arrived in the post. The picture looked like a white christmas tree. I wondered if the water drop would work as a knitted illusion. If I’d used the right size needles it might have looked better.
Sleeve
I was pleased with how this sleeve was going. However, it’s using the same pattern as another cardigan I finished a while ago. The sleeves are too baggy.
It’s better to unravel this version and start again. The rose chart is from a Prima magazine, which is presumably vintage now.
Footprints
Test prints aren’t looking right, maybe they need some tweaking.
Mending
The colours are sunnier than shown, but these are dark days. Some things are easier to mend than others.
Hiraeth
I don’t remember drawing this but it was probably for someone else. Everything in the sketchbook is from about ten or so years ago.
Art Out West
I enjoyed making the background wallpaper for this window display. It’s inspired by a house move when I was about three years old. The new house’s wallpaper was all atomic design; my bedroom had pink and yellow ovals on a grey background. The kitchen was red, yellow and black. That was the first room to be redecorated with pale blues etc, but I preferred the original patterns.
My studio is whichever space is available at the moment, not particularly welcoming for any visitors. Pondering how to put a window exhibition together made me a bit nostalgic for previous studios. The lingering scent of dead pigeons in the roof; tin baths catching the raindrops falling from above. Sharing printing presses with people who left fingerprints on everything(!) There was a lot of admin to help out with in a studio building, the office area was usually warmer so it would be a haven of bustling activity.
There’s also the notion of being a local artist. That’s quite a difficult term, often used as an insult. I’ve lived here for 25 years but I’m not really local. A Radio 4 programme about blood types informed me that I’m part of the same group as some historic invaders. This area is known as ‘The Little England Beyond Wales’, even though the incomers seemed to be Flemish. I’ve never heard any Belgian people chatting around here (so far).
Anyway, these prints gathered together made me realise how many feature hands. Someone asked me if I could draw hands, so I drew a few. Then they asked “but what are linocuts used for?”, so the wallpaper design was to make that clear. What next? I might attempt to put my novel into the right order. It’s about an artist moving to Wales, even though their friends say that’s the same as being dead…
berry daines 