Posts Tagged ‘Inspiration’

Flamingo fling-bling

Tuesday, August 26th, 2008

For all that there’s progress around here, I still haven’t figured out what exactly I’m going to do with this piece of fabric:


It’s about 3″ x 5″ and it’s a piece of wild loveliness that demands to be used in some creative, wonderful way. It’s bizarre, painfully blingy-bright, whimsical. You’ve definitely posed me a real challenge here!

I am wrestling with flamingos. Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do??


Do you dream in black and white?

Saturday, August 9th, 2008

Some fabrics

I’ve started the August challenge. As usual (!), I’ve spent the last week or two thinking about it, before the sketching begins in earnest and the ideas start to emerge. At first, I wasn’t sure what I would do. The parcel of fabric you sent me was just so wacky, it DEMANDED that I change my idea about what sort of dreams I was going to stitch.

I had been thinking dreams as aspirations – blue sky thinking, that sort of thing.

Instead, what you sent me was bizarre. There’s no two ways about it. And what you wrote in your card was: “Do you dream in black and white or in colour?” (Colour, definitely. And scent).

Actually, what you wrote is:

Do you dream in black and white or in color?

<<Aside: I’m Canadian, so I write colour with a U. Pedantic? – ME?? >

The funny thing was the arrival of your parcel. You said by email that your next parcel should arrive at about the time we got home. Well, I didn’t say at the time, but these little old houses in Melbourne’s north don’t have any front gardens, and so occasionally, just occasionally, parcels left on the doorstep go missing. Too tempting, within reach of the street. I was quietly hoping that parcel would not arrive a few days early so that Posted Stitches would not become Missing Stitches this month…

Well, Tuesday we opened the door and lugged our bags in, home from the airport. The house feels strange. Someone shrunk all the rooms. Man, it’s cold, and damp in here (we don’t do central heating ’round here)Opening the new parcel. Gosh, it’s gloomy. I’ll just open the front door and sit here on MY home step in MY house in the sunshine and bask and NOT be on an airplane…

With my eyes closed, I am listening to the sounds of the neighbourhood, and it’s so good to be home. ‘Brap-pap-pap’ – someone’s coming down the street on a moped bike – it’s the postie. And he’s got…. A parcel for me…

For ME?

“Posted Stitches, Ma’am, right on time.”

I’m sure the postie – all wrapped up in his glo-vis yellow and red jacket – chuckled to himself at my big-eyed jetlagged, excited grab at the parcel.

- Or maybe it’s just a part of his job and this happens every day.

How did you time it so well?

(P.S. The postie didn’t say that. But I wish he had. With a ‘Dragnet‘ accent.)