The disaster zone.


If I were really pretentious I’d say I have an “art studio” But I’m not a pretentious sort of person, so I could say  “My craft room”, but it’s not really a room, because it’s a garage, and I’ve seen too many neat orderly WHITE, perfectly organised spaces that people call their “craft rooms”.   (They scare me.)

I’ve seen craft rooms where everything is filed away, alphabetically listed, all the storage containers are exactly the same and all slot into their allocated spot perfectly and there is not one spec of glue or paint to be seen anywhere.   These aren’t crafters or artists! They’re aliens!  How can people work like that!

My name is Tracy, I have a garage where I make stuff and it’s a disaster zone.

Feels like some kind of a confession or something.

I AM a compulsive maker of stuff.  Always have been.  It’s just that now I’m making it and I have to sell it because I just can’t keep making it and keeping it!

After having recently moved house I finally cleared a space in the garage for myself.

It’s a nice space. I can have the garage roller door open in summer to let the breeze through and the views outside to the lake are nice and calming.  The only issue are the lights which are on a stupid sensor thingy, so sometimes they have a mind of their own and I have to either do a dance back and forth across a certain point to make them come back on, or else sit in the half dark with the lamp on until somehow it resets itself and allows me to put them back on!  Just one of those quirky things you get used to.

This is what it looked like when it was all new and pristine and orderly and all.  Note that nothing matches at all and things are still in cardboard boxes.  But still….this is NEAT, for me.

Craft space BEFORE

Take a good long look because it will NEVER EVER look that way again.  Not even in a blue moon when all the planets are aligned and a frog sits next to a hare on the road.

This is how it looks today.

Craft space after working in it

I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of my mess.  This is pure delicious inspiration in the makings here…..this is where a piece of ripped cardboard I dropped on the floor would make a PERFECT clock surround…  Where the crumpled ball of tissue paper that rolled under my chair comes in handy just about now!  Where a ball of wool gets flung in the general direction of the wool box, because I can’t be bothered getting up because I just have that one last little piece to paint!

This is where I sit almost every day and listen to the local radio station and just let my mind float.

I do a lot of thinking in here, believe it or not.

I think about the things that are bothering me….the things I’m looking forward to….the things I want to do….to make… But a lot of that time my head is just “free”  and clear  and not really thinking of much at all because I’m too busy trying to solve problems.

A lot of what I do involves problem solving.

“How can I make THIS  look like THAT?”.

“What colours will enhance the rusty look?”

“How do I draw that shape?  How do I cut that out?  How….how….how…?”

My hands are so busy that it quiets my very busy mind, and this is a GOOD thing.

Therapy.

I may not be weaving baskets but I’m certainly keeping myself from going insane.

This mess is ME and where I am the most happiest being ME.

 

Oh it’s not always like this.  Sometimes it’s worse!

I move in cycles…..create, create, create….ohmygodIcantstandthechaosanymore!

Then I have to stop and restore some order or else I’m likely to become buried like something from an episode of hoarders.

I’m ALMOST at that point now.

This is what birthed from the bloodied loins of my beautiful disaster zone today.

 

I loved the bottle when I first saw it, but the contents were ghastly.

My husband and I shared it when we stayed in the city one night to see the Vivid Lights show.

I don’t know what exactly the drink was but it was pink and vile and bubbly.  I just needed that bottle!

What you do for your art hey?

Steam punk bottle 1  sm

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wall.


Sheep doorway Abbey  sm

“Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.”
-khalil gibran

I saw this quote on a fellow bloggers post  last night and the words rang so true for me. -https://ididnthavemyglasseson.com

You KNOW when you are living a life that is not true to your soul- the very core of who you are. When you are trying to make all the puzzle pieces fit to make this perfect picture, but no matter what they just don’t fit?

You just know.

I know you understand the feeling.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
Because we THINK we can “make it work”.

We think, because we want something SO much, with every fibre of our being, and with EVERY good intention, that somehow the magic will somehow manifest itself in us and give us superpowers to be able to mould and change things and make them exactly as our souls eye pictured it to be.

The thing is, we DO have superpowers to be able to mould and change OURSELVES…but we are completely powerless to change others around us.

So after waving our magic wands around frantically and futilely, eventually we get trapped…IN THAT WALL.
Stuck in limbo, unable to move forward because we just cannot believe in the garden that logically, intelligently we know is on the other side. Maybe we even forget it’s there?
Maybe it just feels safer to be in the wall? Right here, right now, between the bricks. It’s the only thing you truly can trust.

But this is what being in the wall does to you.

It strips you of joy.
Numbs the senses…
It fills you with anxiety- because when your core being recognises it is living a lie, it manifests as anxiety.
It robs your confidence, steals your sleep, and literally makes you sick!

I saw this happen to my daughter, who was in a relationship that deep deep down, she knew was not “right” for her core happiness. Her spirit…her soul…her inner truth!

She didn’t want to believe that or acknowledge it because she had this vision and believed she had the power to make it all fall into place.

There is nothing wrong with having faith in yourself…having dreams and goals and fighting for something. It’s how good things are born!
But sometimes you’ve got to take a long hard look inward, and ask yourself “Can this truly change to fit my picture? Is this the reality I want?”

I know my daughter could never have imagined that she would end up a single mother to two boys. The thought I know must have filled her with terror.
But you know what? She can now see the garden on the other side of the wall! She’s IN it. The wind on her face, the grass beneath her feet… and SURE it’s scary. Sometimes lonely, and I’m sure she’ll get lost in it many more times before she finally finds the path she is meant to be on…But she is out of that damn stuck place now, where she was- with NO garden at all!

It takes IMMENSE courage to move forward. To be truthful with yourself and find the strength to let go of “the picture” and have the guts to create a new one.
There is ALWAYS a new one, because that is the reality of life.

Fear is stupid. It holds you in handcuffs made of air and puts you inside walls that only exist in your mind.

Go walk in the garden! Discover it! Bask in the sunshine!
Don’t waste another precious second of this fleeting gift of- your LIFE.

Is that art?


Art, as we all know, is totally subjective.  It all depends on what people make of it, and some people make a hell of a lot out of a simple squiggle.

Reminds me of something I saw on Facebook recently where a bunch of hoity toity art connoisseurs are getting excited by a pair of glasses someone left on the floor during an exhibition.   Obviously the glasses “spoke” to them.

I’ve always wanted to make art, but I cannot paint. Nope…A brush in my hand is about as useful as an extra thumb.  I just don’t know what to DO with it…a paintbrush that is.

Speaking of extra thumbs…I actually had an elderly patient once who had two thumbs. I kid you not.  It was a bit like a crab claw on her hand.  Fascinating.

I’m beginning to explore painting.  I can’t paint recognisable things – not yet. Do I even want to though?  I must admit, just like the imagination involved with cloud watching, I’m a bit more swayed towards abstract art.  Not ALL abstract art though, as some of it just doesn’t appeal to me at all.   Like – simple squiggles.  Or geometric stuff.  Or paintings that are so washed out and simplistic you have to wonder did the artist want to keep it a secret all to him/herself? Some people like that though and “get it”.  I don’t.

But I do love colours and textures.   Textures are great!  Something you can really get your teeth into, if your eyes had teeth.   Nothing better than a textural painting that seems to want to rip its way out of the canvas and devour you.  Ok…I’m getting carried away here, but you know what I mean.

So, I have been messing about with creating some textural paintings.  Acrylic paints with texture paste….and whatever else is handy.   I’ve made two attempts.  I personally think they are still a bit clumsy ….BUT, I’m always SO self critical…and you’ve got to start somewhere.

This was my first attempt at an abstract painting.  I just KNOW I’ll end up modifying the colour….but it is what it is so far.

I used texture paste, wool, glue, tissue paper and paint.  It reminded me of the ocean.

My daughter said she saw a dead fish in it.  Someone else said a tennis racket.  My father saw a wine glass.  Someone else saw the moon rising over reeds…

Abstract sea theme  sm

I like that people saw different things.  I guess that’s a start hey!

Then today I finished a set of three abstract paintings that are probably more of a decorative accent thing than anything else.  These were fun to make and I like the colours and the swirls.  Circles and swirls are my thing.   Squares and lines….not so much, but who knows… A square may “speak to me” one day.

Abstract red set of three.  smjpg

 

 

It is what it Isn’t!


I’m in this mad creative frenzy at the moment.  Funny how that happens. You go through periods where your inspiration just dries up and it’s like you are trudging through this vast desert of “what the heck am I supposed to do now!”-parched and dry with the vultures circling overhead… and then suddenly your head just explodes and there isn’t enough time in the day to do all the things your brain is throwing at you!

Mind exploding

(Wish I could credit the artist who drew this cute little doodle!  Saw it on Facebook.)

This mixed media art stuff is just sooo addictive because anything and everything becomes inspiration.  I just LOVE looking at stuff and seeing it, in my imagination, as something else.

There is something almost childlike about doing that… Ever watched toddlers or even babies explore something new?  They figure out what it’s supposed to do, but then, when they tire of that, they start figuring out other potential uses for it… A bucket becomes a hat, or a seat or a drum… It doesn’t just have to be something you PUT something in. The possibilities are almost endless! We are BORN with this kind of creativity!

I think as we grow up though we lose this ability to look at things from all angles. We become “it is what it is” people.

Boring!  Don’t ever become one of those people – because then you get old, quicker, and before you know it you’ve got doilies on the coffee table and three flying ducks on the wall.   No offense to doily and three flying ducks folk, but I just happen to dislike those things immensely -unless I can turn them into something else!

Dream catchers

The other day I spotted my daughters tea strainer thingy in the kitchen.  You know, the little ball ones that open up? Oh my God…immediately I saw steampunk goggles!  In fact while rummaging in the kitchen drawer, I discovered a spare tea strainer thingy, similar but not quite the same…it must be one my husband bought.  I stood there playing with it,  one that kind of springs open with a scissor type mechanism, and I accidentally broke it.  What a shame hey…. I really didn’t MEAN to, but since it’s broken now…..

Tea goggles

Then, the other evening I had to laugh when my son came home – he is working as a mechanic, so I asked him if at work if there are ever little bits and pieces lying around that look vaguely steam punky?  (Worth asking?)  At the same time I mentioned that I’d found something interesting in the garage (my craft space) that I was excited about because it had “potential”.

Battery bit

Well, his eyes went wide when he saw the bit I was talking about.

“You can’t use that! That is the clip that holds the battery in, in my other car!” he said.

Bwahhahahaha!  Oh my, I found that extremely funny!

I was disappointed, but very amused.

“Don’t leave your bits in here then!” I said.  “They WILL get used!”

Recently my husband began the process of replacing the spring type thingies that close the cupboard doors in the kitchen –or in our case DON’T close the doors.

Even those it seems have potential.  Once he is done I am going to remove all the little spring things in them.  I’m sure they will have a use in my projects.  When I told him this he said  “ Nothing is sacred with you is it?”

Well!  If it’s going in the bin, why not!

We went to Bunnings (big hardware store) – to get the new spring thingies for the doors.   I stood transfixed in the “fixings” aisle…as my husband called it.  The aisle where all the screws and washers and doodads are.  I don’t know what half of them are called, but OH, I could see sooo much potential in some of the stuff!

I ended up getting a bunch of washers and some other things that I have no idea what they are used for but I am using them for steam punk art! Here are some I have already glued together.

Washers

I told my husband “ You should think yourself lucky that you have a wife that you can keep happy by buying her a few packets of washers!

This is my latest creation…because in MY world, pigs CAN fly!

The hot air balloon is a slice of Styrofoam ball on cardboard wrapped in packing tape, tissue paper, a piece of webby like scarf, and junk jewellery.  The wings are made from cardboard, glue and tissue paper.   The tractor is a cheap fridge magnet that I doozied up a bit and the pig…oh the dramas with the pig!  The pig is simply a vintage pig from a site called The Graphics Fairy, where you can download and use royalty free vintage images.

flying pig  sm

Originally, for the pig, I wanted to use a toy plastic pig, cut in half so the back part was flat, and just have that suspended from the balloon…I thought I’d buy one of those cheap farmyard animal sets.  Do you think I could FIND one though?  Nope!  Not anywhere!

When I was mumbling about making it, and on the hunt for a suitable pig my husband said “ Why a pig?”   ::::  face palm :::

THAT is because he is an “ it is what it is” person.

I should buy him some doilies and flying ducks.

 

 

Did you see the whales?


orcas-258745

Photo courtesy of Pixabay.

Last night I had a dream that I went walking by the ocean and in the distance I could see a whole pod of Orcas swimming under the water.
I never saw any of them fully breach but I could see them just under the surface swimming playfully, and there must have been hundreds! I was amazed and overjoyed by the sight.

At some point a man came walking past and I exclaimed “Did you see the whales!” We both stopped and watched as once again they rose just below the surface.
I then said to this stranger “It’s weird isn’t it. Here we are, both species living in different dimensions. Different planes of existence, both so contrary to the other and yet both exist. I wonder if they stare up at us humans, out of their world and wonder about us and our lives?”

Yep, just like me to launch into something deep and meaningful with a complete stranger…even in my dreams!

It made me think (in my dream – see, even asleep I never stop thinking!) about my belief that there is MORE to life than we know.  I resonate strongly to the theory that there is not just one plane of existence, but many, and these we cannot humanly fathom. And…maybe we are not meant to?

I googled this morning what the significance of whales are in mythology, just out of curiosity. This is the first thing I found. “Killer whales are considered a particular symbol of power and strength, and catching sight of one is considered a momentous omen.”

I also found on “Whale facts”  this…

WHAT DO WHALES MEAN IN DREAMS?

Depending on whom you listen to the symbolic meaning of whales in dreams can vary dramatically.

 

THE INTERPRETATION OF STRENGTH AND SPIRITUALITY

Whales usually represent a big event in your life or a strong feeling of solitude.

Some people believe that whales are associated with peace, serenity, spirituality and tranquility.

The appearance of a whale in a dream can signify that everything is or will be o.k. and is often related to spiritual matters of the mind and heart.

In dreams that focus on a particular individual the appearance of a whale can identify that person as trustworthy and good spirited, and can give you a feeling of connectedness with that individual.

Some people have even interpreted the symbol of a whale as the feeling of a loving mother who protects her child.

Deep feelings and close emotional connections are often associated with these majestic animals.

Whales tend to appear during times of relevance when you are currently facing an issue in your life.

At times whales may also represent power, leadership and strength.

They symbolize that you can accomplish your goals and have the strength and intuition to overcome the obstacles in your life.

They’re a sign of protection and a signal that you need to relax and stop worrying.

 

Dreaming of the ocean is very much tied to the emotions, so it is said. Maybe that explains all my dreams of giant tidal waves, which I often have. They are particularly frightening dreams. I think they are a symbol of my fear of being out of control.
In fact, I rarely have peaceful pleasant dreams involving the ocean, but last nights was indeed surrounded by a peaceful positive feeling.

I wonder who the stranger was though?

So… perhaps (hopefully!) something momentously positive is about to happen?

Whatever it is, maybe I’ll have a whale of a time:)

Hot pokers,dead trees and Hoar Frost.


 

I never realised just how lucky I am to have such a patient husband until a recent road trip I took with my daughter and the two grand kids to the snow…where there WAS no snow (Weep- it eluded me yet AGAIN!)

You see, my daughter is the sort of person who wants to get from A to B in the quickest time possible, by the shortest route possible.

I understand.  The five month old has just recently learned how to shriek like a banshee in indignation every time the car slows, even a little bit.  It’s kind of like having hot pokers repeatedly jabbed in your ears.

But I think even without the hot pokers my daughter would still be the same…Lets just GET there!

I’m not used to travelling like that.  I have been spoiled by my dear husband who has always been so accommodating, and whether it be me with a video camera, or a camera, or just me wanting to get out and say hi to the cows…well, he always stops for me, and there IS no great rush.

So there I sat in the car, one lone dead tree after another whizzing by.  How I mourned those trees, because, if you aren’t somehow aware, lone dead trees are simply irresistible to photographers!

Their stoic and stubborn fortitude, their proud victory against wind, rain, drought and all that the elements can throw at them in their beaten gnarly glory! They scream, “ I was here!  I AM still here!”

Lone dead trees are simply visual poetry to the photographer.

Take a look at this one, from our UK trip. It’s quirky…got a sense of humour, a bit of a larrikin tree I’d say, in it’s hey day.

Dead tree field sm

My daughter doesn’t understand.  As I sat grieving the trees, whimpering softly as yet another fine specimen disappeared in a blur she said…

“Do you just like dead trees because you’ve got a black thumb?”

Of course, I couldn’t expect her to stop every five minutes…  Little hot pokers you see.  And besides, we were off to see the SNOW (which didn’t exist).

I resorted to trying to take photo’s from the moving car.  This is never easy, and tinted windows make it even harder.  I did snap this…which was interesting because it was the winter sun, in broad daylight.  The window tinting I think did something to the image and made it look almost like a night time shot.  Strange, but I kind of like it.

winter sun 2  sm

Sometimes I just refused to look out my window.  I entered a state of denial.   “There is NOTHING nice out there to photograph” I told myself and stared straight ahead…  but even that sometimes became interesting. “Oh…look at that nice loooong road ahead!”

Long road  sm

My finger must have become jittery because I even managed to accidentally take a few pictures of my daughters lap.

So… We did have a lovely time, despite the absence of (real) snow.  My three year old grandson got to play in the fake snow, we went on some lovely walks, had far too many fattening treats to eat, saw some of the wildlife (Emu and deer, birds…) and just generally hung out together, which was really nice!

On the last day on the way home though, early in the morning we suddenly drove into thick fog and then a miracle met my eyes.

A winter wonderland suddenly appeared in front of us. It was AMAZING, because I’d never seen anything like it before.  It kind of looked like snow, but I knew it wasn’t!  It was like a really heavy frost that hung off every blade of grass, every wire, every leaf….Like magic this land of ice was suddenly THERE coming out of the fog..and stuff it, hot pokers in the back seat or not I KNEW I just had to take photo’s of this!

Oh be still my heart…Just take a look at what I saw!

Frost and trees  sm

Tree's frost sm

Frost grass  sm

Frost fence cows  sm

I think even my daughter was impressed by the scene. Hot pokers in his car seat?… meh, not so much.

I have now learned that this phenomena is called a Hoar Frost.  It’s when “water vapour goes directly to a solid state, skipping the liquid stage altogether. The frost clings and grows on any type of exposed surface, including trees, wires and bushes. “

Simply magic!

PS….This is Hot Pokers trying carrot for the first time.

Big people food

 

 

 

 

 

The mental writing of eulogies.


 

Last night- well, as late as 3 am I lay in bed mentally writing my 17 year sons eulogy.

I imagined him dead in a ditch…car rolled down an embankment, sunk at the bottom of a cold cold lake, smouldering in flames… or some such awful thing.

I envisioned him beat up by a gang of thugs…in hospital, his bloodied face swollen and unrecognisable, with no ID on him – because his wallet was stolen- and this was the reason the police hadn’t come knocking on my door.

I even contemplated washing my hair, just in case the police arrived, and then felt awful for being so vain. (It really needs washing though.)

I imagined that someone had slipped him something….some drug, and maybe he had a catastrophic reaction.

I imagined him hurt, in pain, broken, deceased in all manner of ways…All these terrible things.

You see, he hadn’t contacted me to tell me he wasn’t coming home, from a birthday party he intended to “pop” into.

He ALWAYS messages me! He’s good that way and I’m ok as long as I know WHERE they are and WHO they are with. You have to eventually let go,in tiny painful increments and let them have the chance TO be trusted….and have faith that your morals have somehow been ingrained into their psyche, at least when it REALLY counts.

You know they are going to make mistakes. There is no avoiding that. It is the job of teenagers to make mistakes. You yourself made plenty of mistakes, so it’s no use pretending that somehow you have the power to prevent them from making them, because you just don’t.   It’s how they learn and grow- but you hope the mistakes they make will not be ones that they can’t come back from.

I tried calling him a million times but his phone just made a funny beeping sound. I messaged his friends on facebook – (it was late, I didn’t want to phone anyone) but they didn’t respond.

I went through all the stages of grief until finally I got the shits and thought, well stuff it…dead or not, I need to SLEEP!

This morning he arrived home and after I threw a colourful hissy fit in the front hallway, where he stood and looked down at me, shocked and a bit awkward in the presence of my grand hysteria, he told me he’d SENT me a message on facebook to say he was staying at his friends place and then went to sleep.

Fancy that.  There I am in bed, chewing my arms off with worry,the two sides of my personality in brutal combat, trying to make sense of the situation…calming myself down… freaking myself out, and there he is sleeping like a baby. Snoring and farting in peaceful freaking oblivion.

Obviously there had been a glitch. I didn’t receive the message he apparently sent.

He doesn’t understand. THEY don’t understand. Not until they have their own children will they understand what runs through a mothers (or fathers) mind.

They just cannot understand how much love,blood, sweat and tears (and mental cuss words) have been invested in their existence.

They simply cannot comprehend that the umbilical cord is never severed. It remains invisible to every sense except the soul.

They might scoff at your “over reactions” and roll their eyes at your hysteria, but one day, in all probability, even if only for a fleeting moment, when they have teenagers of their own, in the middle of some dark winters night, they too will learn what it is like to experience the anguish of the mental writing of eulogies.

My mechanical heart.


Man, is it raining cats and dogs or what!  (Where on earth did that saying come from anyway?)

So I’ve been glued to the weather stations getting very excited at a predicted East Coast low which was supposed to happen, but didn’t… All we’ve had was a TONNE of rain! Perfect weather for hibernating in my garage and getting stuck into some juicy creating.

I had the biggest hissy fit whilst trying to make a simple heart shape for this.

I’ve had some polymer clay sitting around for um….a few years now..  I thought, well MAYBE I can soften it up?   But anyone who has ever worked with polymer clay (Fimo/Sculpey) knows that there comes a point where no amount of heating or kneading, or bashing, or mineral oil is going to soften that damn stuff up!

I DID try…. EVERYTHING, including getting very VERY angry and bashing it to death with a rolling pin  – more so to relieve my frustration because it didn’t do anything! My hands were SO sore!   I think it is headed for the bin now .

Sooo…how else to make a heart shape that is going to be 3 D-ish yet rigid enough to stick on canvas?

Well….First I cut a heart shape out of some cardboard that I’d saved  and have a look at this…!!!  It delighted me when I turned it over to discover THIS on the back!

Heart

I love when life throws you little coincidences like that:)  (Because I DO have a fragile heart!)

Anyway, so I blobbed some pillow stuffing onto the heart shape and then proceeded to wrap packing tape around it until it formed a suitable plumpish heart shape….The rest is history… Tissue paper, glue veins and paint and presto I had my meaty looking heart!

Then I raided the tool cupboard and my bits and pieces stash , glue up to my armpits, paint, texture paste….and viola!  – My Mechanical heart!

Loads of steampunkery going on and quite “dark”….  Maybe the Goths will like it?

Oh and look! There are some of my wings I made from my last blog post!:)

My mechanical heart LR small

Steam punk wings (how to make)


Buying craft stuff is STUPIDLY expensive, especially here in Australia.

I’ve been scouring the internet to see if anyone has a tutorial out there on how to make steam punk inspired wings (as a craft embellishment), seeing as they seem to be a large feature of this kind of vibe, along with the clocks and cogs….which are also ridiculously expensive to buy if you’re using a lot of them in one project.

I decided to give it a try myself, so this is what I came up with.  Btw, you could make fairy wings, butterfly or moth wings using this same technique.

steam punk wings  finished_

These I will use on a mixed media canvas and to give you an idea of the size, I am planning on putting a fancy spoon in the middle (teaspoon size) but you can make them however big or small you want.

The first step was to roughly sketch a drawing of some wings which I then cut out to use as a template.

First image wings cut out

Then I used some card stock and cut out two identical copies of the wings. One would have been too flimsy so I glued the two together, but if you have thicker card stock you won’t need to do this.  If it’s TOO thick though you’ll have a heck of a job getting your scissors around the edges.

Second image card cut out

Then I drew some lines on the wings and carefully applied some glue to the lines in order to create some veiny texture. I just used this fabric glue – because it dries quick, but really you could use any THICK sort of glue in a bottle with a fine nozzle OR use a texture pen.

Glue

Third image glue on wings

When this dried I glued some crumpled tissue paper over the top for even more texture. (This could also be done with aluminium foil)

 

tissue paper on wings

Then I painted the wings with gold spray paint, but acrylic would do just as well…paint them whatever colour you like!  I wanted mine to look a bit rusty.

Wings painted gold

The final touches are done by gently brushing over the textured surface with a darker colour to make all the wrinkles in the tissue paper and glue – veins stand out as in the first picture.

Hope this helps to inspire someone!   If anyone else has any ideas on ways to make them feel free to drop me a note:)

 

Door


Door  sm

I have doors on my mind tonight…

I wonder who made this? Who thought it up? Sketched it? Who physically made it?

How long did it take? How much were they paid? What WAS their life like? How did they die?

Did they even, for one second, imagine that hundreds of years later there would be a woman, with a camera, with all these questions….and a thing called the Internet…and Blogs.

Would they ever have conceived that the image of this door, which came from their own imagination, long long ago, would be looked at by people in the future – with lives that HE would never have been able to understand…

How wonderful would it be to leave something like that behind? Something strong and enduring, and beautiful.

Something for people to admire and ponder.