This morning in my writing, I remembered the old hat I found in Mom’s closet. It was one of her mother’s old church hats.
She let me play with it, but it didn’t take long for me to see that it wasn’t really my style. I think I was nine or ten. With permission, I deconstructed the hat and wore it for years, till I lost it somewhere in the field between the woods and our house.
It fit perfectly with my idea of myself as an explorer, with my radioactive Army watch on my wrist and my eyes on the horizon. Dad found that watch in one of the used cars he sold and I begged for it; it was my first timepiece.
Random memories from a feral childhood. Maybe one day I’ll be good enough to draw the faces under those hats.
In which she realizes she can use a colored pencil to shade a ehite object.
I love pitchers. I have more than makes sense. I use the larger ones as vases. I have several shapes of white porcelain creamers, including this souvenir of my walk through Rome. It was €1.95. How could I leave it in Italy?
I also purchased a little black notebook during our visit to the Keats-Shelley House in Rome. The lettering is actually white.
I carry a little notebook with me most of the time. It’s great for shopping lists, measurements, addresses of places I need to go (though these are migrating to my smart phone), and flashes of brilliance. (ha!)
Right now I’m using a little notebook with Apocalyst embossed on the cover. It was a crew gift from the kind of sweet show No Tomorrow that I worked on. (It’s streamable on Netflix right now).
I don’t really need another mug, but we had a nice chat with the owner of Recordis Barcelona and I liked this image a lot. Recordis Barcelona is a fine gift shop with locally sourced wares. The owner would rather sell books and antiques. He said he turns on the music in his shop when he comes in, and when it stops 8 hours later he closes up.
I went back another evening, because the shop was just around the corner from our hotel, to tell him about Ex Libris Anonymous because I figured he’d be charmed by the idea of making sketchbooks from old books. He gave me a vintage Spanish postage stamp.
“It’s only from the 50s or so,” he said when I was thrilled with it.
It gained a crease during the next week of travel, but now I’m going to mount it in my journal using photo splits.
Yeah, when I visited the Keats-Shelley Memorial House in Rome I bought a tee shirt imprinted with this quote from “Ode to a Nightingale” by John Keats. What would he think, I wonder, of us traipsing around in our underwear?
Big John Keats fan as a teen. I transcribed the opening lines of one of his poems onto butcher paper and hung them on my bedroom wall.
“… I have fears that I may cease to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, Before high-piled books in charact’ry, Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain…”
Ah tragic youth! There was also a quote from a play about Joan of Arc. Ego much?
#1 in a series of drawings I’m making of the souvenirs I brought home from Europe. The olives we had in Barcelona had such a delicate, deep flavor…not too briny. We especially love the anchovy stuffed olives.
I know, it sounds weird, but trust me, they’re amazing. We’ve been putting off opening these, but their time will soon come!
The chocolate is almost gone. Luckily, it was another of the first things I drew. The hazelnut creme eggs from Barcelona were the BEST.
It’s a very small sketchbook, about 4″x6″ to fit in a camera bag or purse.