I must confess that I'm struggling with this not so little blanket. It's probably something to do with the riot of colours and having to surrender to what I think should be the random nature of it {for it to have a truly vintage look and feel} In any case I'm pressing on because I'm enjoying having a little bag of crochet always at my side. I'm comforted by the rhythm of the stiches and I like the overall effect when I blur my eyes, and really overall effect is where I'm at with this one so it's all good.
I try to take at least one photo every day, the act of which cements a moment in my mind. The way the light falls, the memory an object conjures.
Of meaning to me and yet open to interpretation in a wider space.
This is Saturday...
a late entry- japanese teacup, beautiful to hold and lovely to drink from...
egg dyeing in the afternoon,
the details,
happy easter...
our days are still decidedly warm, but finally there is a crispness in the air and the april/may issue of donna hay magazine to savour over a cup of tea and cake...
finally making a post in time for vessel wednesday,
over the last couple of years little groupings of vessels have been growing around our home, this one from the seam collection by anne black...
update... I mostly get my Green & Blacks from the food section of David Jones Department Store, they seem to have a good range most of the time...
At the end of this week I will be making one of two buying trips that I make each year. As you can imagine, these trips are one of the highlights of my job and it's great fun... and a lot of work.
I love that there are so many elements that go into making a buying trip successful. That some of these elements I can control and others I can't.
This post by Alison got me thinking about the hidden aspects of my work. About how the work I do before a trip is integral to the final outcome. I've also been thinking how similar the process is to that of making a piece by hand. It starts with an idea, a pattern of sorts, is informed by many outside influences, the old and the new. Although I have a vision of what the final work might look like, in reality it will probably be quite different... but the threads of the original design will still be evident.
The hidden work begins for me at the beginning of January, thinking about the season that has just passed... about what we did well, about where we can improve. Thinking about colour and form and trends, about what our interpretation of these things might be. Making notes in my little books about desired items, textures and ideas, visual signposts for the journey that will follow.
And on the ground the seen work begins, absorbing the vision of others, putting together orders, making actual selections for the season ahead. Trusting my instincts. Balancing the essentials with an element of surprise. Making sure I find the things I know for certain that we need, the things that our customers expect to see. And all the time watching for the unexpected because it is these pieces that help us create a story that's all our own.
And, if I'm lucky, I'll finish in time to go shopping...
Lately I am captivated by the thought of living life slowly, with simplicity and intention. So when this book arrived at the shop yesterday, I couldn't resist!
Skye Gyngell writes so beautifully about cooking with the seasons, her words and recipes are an inspiration. And it's the little details that I love about this book... it's perfect size, the matte finish of the pages, the three ribbon page markers (yes three!), the extraordinary photos and the fact that it looks so wonderful on our dining table with my Shannon Garson bowls...
A year in my kitchen by Skye Gyngell and photography by Jason Lowe is published by Quadrille (isbn184400337x)
