Although I have posted some of my wine-sketches already on this blog, I haven't actually created any of late, for wine was off the menu during the weeks I was under the weather and on double antibiotics. But this little sketch rather fits my mood today (back in bed and lap-tapping away). Cross but skittish. It was drawn on a post-it note because I had nothing else to hand, and the story written last week was scribbled on the back of a shopping list, in Morrisons Supeermarket cafe.
"Which way now?" the little old lady said as 2012 moved towards its end. She did not feel 'old', had never used such an adjective of herself. But suddenly, she no longer felt sprightly. Could still walk fast, and even run, but after even a morning's physical or mental work, she experienced now a depressing lack of energy. Her day, morning, noon, (l'apres midi - needs an accent) and night, or rather evening, which previously had been punctuated by so many tasks overwhelmed her; she felt overburdened. It was all so sudden, she felt lost. What should she do?
|pen and wine doodle on the back of a cornflake packet|
On New Year's Eve she cleared her creative work-space; just sufficient to be able to reach the sewing machine, her notebooks, her paints and threads, piles of sketchbooks, and she made lists of where these things were stored. Her creative clutter still littered the house; the garden was neglected, but she knew that if she could sit down and CREATE on New Year's Day 2013, she would feel young again. The day was perfect; she should have been clearing the garden!
|Double-click the image to be able to read it.|
On New Year's Day she started a new project - a fabric book that would take all year to make - a 12" x 12" Quilted Garden. Not just notes, and notes of notes this time, but sorting fabric and embellishments. She wrote the word-whispers that would appear, typed the words ready to transfer onto muslin and prepared the photo images - just for January: a celebration of what she saw in her garden that very morning (was it only yesterday?) All was ready to lay out and stitch, and then - perhaps the moral of this story - nothing goes according to plan, for this morning the little old lady took to her bed again. Was this to be the magical start to 2013 that she had worked towards for so many years? For 2012 could not have been more awful, and 2013 had new and exciting adventures to pursue.