 |
| A rough beginning ... |
No doodles this time ... because two sets of photographs featuring the snowmen of North and East London on the computer gave the impulse I needed to get cracking on an idea I had had for a while about "revisiting" Haworth Parsonage in winter. That and the cold weather currently assailing the allegedly semi-tropical island where I live. (I sit typing this in a thick woolly).
A set of rather-worse-for-wear parkland snowmen popped up on one of my favourite blogs, Justine Picardie's (link down on the right somewhere) yesterday and just hours later my daughter sent some photos of a massive one with a huge spherical head and pebble teeth she had met down Clapton way.
I have always loved them. Spontaneous pieces of primitive art that spring up whenever a half-decent layer of snow is laid down. Strangely misshapen, grinning or grimacing, no two snowmen are ever the same.
Now I know the Brontës aren't exactly the sort of writers we would immediately associate with skylarking in the snow, but heck, even they were children once and must have taken time out at some point from eternally writing about Gondal in their teeny weeny interminable notebooks.
And even if they didn't - well I'm making them.
My cut paper world, my say-so!
 |
| The Universal Snowman: A tropical version made by my daughter and nephew up on Tenerife's volcano a few years ago |
I agree with your world, your rules. That's one of the best things about being an artist: being the Creator. I find some of my best work flows directly from head to brush. When I start editing, sometimes I kill the life in it. (Creator giveth, Creator can taketh away...)
ReplyDelete