strawberry

so, i'm not sure what possessed me, but something did. maybe it's because i'd never done it before and everyone (i'm convinced) wonders what it'd be like to be blonde. unless they already are! so i neglected the packet of red that's languishing unused on my bathroom window sill and roped a friend into helping me convince myself that whacking on a packet of pre-lightener should do the trick (it said so on the packet!). it kind of did. it lightened my brunetteness significantly as you will be able to see from the attached self-portrait. however, i'm left with a shade that is reminiscent of the resplendent beauty of the golden tamarind (bar its face). if you don't know what one of those is, it's probably best. but i suspect google might be enjoying a few image searches if you don't. my husband does call me a 'monkey' quite a lot. bet he didn't see this one coming.

but hell, i like it! not for a permanent state of affairs, but for a change and change is good for all of us. people i know do not recognise me at first - which is strange: just goes to show how something like a mere change of hair colour can throw people! it's quite fun to watch people tell you how much they like it: but you can always tell who is telling the truth and who is being polite - the way the voice tone is slightly strained and the feet shifting imperceptibly.
i'm thinking of collagen implants for my lips next
and changing my name by deed poll.

T'internet's down!

this was me today when i found out that the internet wasn't working at work.

fortunately, the i.t. guys seemed to rectify the problem and i am now thankfully able to post this blog entry! short and sweet.

Latest horse portrait completed

it's been a long time in the 'drawing', as i have been leading a very disrupted life recently - as you may partly be able to glean from previous diverse entries into my blog. this horse head study is finally done, and i'm rather please with how she turned out, despite struggling with the mane, as it was such a similar colour to her coat.... you can see the original photo this was drawn from as well as some detailed views for those that want to get down and dirty, as it were.

otherwise, today has been spent trying to drum up some more custom. surprisingly, because i'm a big loudmouth, pet owners around here still don't seem to realise i exist, so i'm on an awareness-raising campaign: like i'm doing charity work, except the worthy cause is me! ho hum - a starving artist's life for me!

if you want to see more of my work, then please visit my website: http://www.rowantreestudios.co.uk

toute seule, au bureau

today i am alone in the office. my colleague is on holiday: i have very little to do.
it’s just me and the buzz and whirr of electrical equipment, the click-click-grind of the hard drive, the rattle of my own keyboard, the muffled ratchet-roll of my mouse scroll button. in this small box-room, i hear the heels of the administrative staff as they pass over my head on the floor above: seemingly on a mission - probably for the kitchen for tea, or the toilet...
there is a dull ache in my thoracic spine and my shoulders have set hard in one position for lack of movement. my tea, now cooled to a pleasant temperature for imbibing, first pauses in my mouth before sliding pleasingly down my throat and warms me from within. the quiet emphasises the noise of my swallowing as the tea is forced by the cartilaginous ridges of my trachea which presses on my oesophagus. i have a skinny neck.
the tea is my comforter and provider. a home comfort i can enjoy uninhibited at work. a home from home. a drug: i am physically and emotionally addicted.
outside my office window i hear the wind rustle the leaves of the trees; the stray cry of a seagull as he glides effortlessly on the thermals rising from the biosciences building, and the occasional shriek from one of the many resident magpies. the vertical blinds sway gently in the breeze mostly silent but for the odd metallic tapping of the chain that joins the weighted sections together along the bottom.
it is at times like this that i feel imprisoned: trapped by my own conscience. what is most frustrating is that i am capable of exercising my own free will. there is nothing physical stopping me from just getting up and leaving. going for a marathon walk and not coming back.... but it is all at the risk of losing my employment, and ultimately, following an unfortunate but inevitable chain of events, my home, pets, and maybe even husband. i have a responsibility to myself and others to sit here. to grin and bear it. do other people think about running away as much as i do?
today is a quiet day, perhaps the next will be busier and i'll not have time to dwell on such things!

four days in provence

having just returned from provence, southern france where i have spent the last four days soaking up the sun and the stunning views, i've spent this tuesday recuperating from the lack of sleep i have suffered due to odd flight times.... my husband and i were there for our friends' wedding. i have subsequently fallen in love with the place and have my beady eye set on returning there one day to live.

the wedding was beautiful, and was hosted at our friend's parents' wonderful villa with pool looking out over the provencale countryside out towards Cannes and the sea.

this is the view from the house - taken on our last day - just as the weather seemed to be closing in! but it soon cleared and the sun returned! my husband and i were staying in the nearby town of grasse (famous for it's perfumes), and i was inspired to buy a small sketchbook. here's my interpretation on the view above....

these drawings are as big as my pad - about 6x4". i enjoyed drawing them immensly - i found it really relaxing. i've been meaning to take up sketching for ages, and finally got round to it. i had time, and the inspiration! below is a view of the house, its steps and a flower bed....

i was also inspired to draw a mad sketch from a drinks can - i thought the design was fab!

so, in conclusion, perhaps if only i lived in france, i would be much more artistically productive! that's not an easy obstacle to get over!

aftershock

so, the bbc’s gaza correspondent, alan johnston, has been released after four months of captivity…..
i woke up to the news on my radio alarm this morning. the news ‘empowered’ my husband to leap out of bed, as he imagined the giddy joyousness of liberation following a long and tortuous incarceration. i'm not good at waking up, but if i were, i’m sure i’d have done the same. my progress was slower and i am usually provoked into getting out of bed when my siamese cat (who has no ‘pants’ on), tries sitting on my face…. however, i did feel like a small weight had been lifted – not that i’d been worrying about alan – i don’t know him! yet, through the news coverage of his disappearance, we’d all been invited to share in the suffering his family endured.
through bleary-eyed yet stoical interviews with alan’s elderly father, the media plays on our natural and intrinsic urge to empathise, and stirs up our own deepest fears of unimaginable loss. lost in thought in the office (the flat screen monitor defocusses), you feel you know enough to become alan’s mother: thinking how, in the past, you’d always secretly hoped he would give up his perilous journalistic career in the middle east, where too many people are so filled with anger and fear and murderous intent…. in a way you’d almost hoped that something would happen to him – something that might injure him enough to bring him home and prevent him from returning. at least that way he’d stay alive, with no choice but to accept his fate and reluctantly nestle in the bosom of his loving family. "back home with us… but the kidnapping… four months of abject horror for me. four months of waking up each day (if i slept the night before, that is) with that aching hollowness in the pit of my abdomen, ignorant as to whether or not my son had been executed in the night. i apprehensively turned on the tv every morning, dreading the almost inevitable news that his beheading had been broadcast on the internet overnight.
as the coverage of his abduction faded, so did my hope. you know, in an effort to tell myself that life goes on, i went shopping with my friend, maggie. i tried to relax and have a giggle, even. we went back home at 11.30am. i was weeping. margaret gave me a tea and a slice of battenburg. how long would our lives have to be on hold for? is he suffering more than i am now?
on the news of his release, i am overwhelmed with joy: i cannot stand. i’ve never known such a feeling. but my jubilation is tainted with a glowering anger…. how could he have been so stupid; so selfish? everyone warned him of the dangers of working in gaza – his greatest fear was being killed or kidnapped by radicals! yet he went in, christ-like, to bring the stories of their peoples’ suffering to an apathetic british public! didn’t he think about the suffering we might go through? he’s our son. we raised him. i can’t face losing him. not again….
i know he’s heart broken about how his kidnapping has effected us, and i know he has suffered too – doubly so, as not only is he completely wracked with guilt for the turmoil this has created in our family, but he has also had to endure the nightmare of not knowing whether he might live or die from one minute to the next. and this is why, in the end, he will never know about my ambivalence…the most important thing is that he is home."

current project

for those that don't know, i'm a graphite pencil artist. yes the humble pencil is my weapon of choice. take a look at what i have already drawn, at my website: http://www.rowantreestudios.co.uk

here is a scan of my current work in progress - already quite a way through, so you can see. if you have any questions on my techniques, please feel free to ask - i might let you in on a few secrets!

baby blogger

sunday, 01/07/2007

hello and welcome to my blog. this nascent project is in its experimental phase. in my blog, i shall neglect to properly capitalise my lettering in an effort to promote a slightly anarchistic image of myself (plus i seen it on lots of cool designer stuff, m'lud!).
I intend to share with you not just what is spilling out of my head, but also that which is issued from my slender ladies' fingers (stuff wot I drawed).
please feel free to email me comments - as long as they are not obscene in nature i may just include them in this here blog.
as it's sunday night and my first blog, i thought i might share a top tip with you budding graphite artists out there..graphite smudges it's a fact of life. I have, however, acquired a very useful piece of kit which helps me brush away that naughty, dirty graphite dust, without you having to blow it off and risk leaving tiny bubbles of spittle dancing vindictively on your paper. it's an anti-static brush that a very nice man called howard gave me. (scoop! - howard owns a drum-scanner but he's based in kent - if anyone wants his number, let me know - he scans dirt cheap!). I don't know where to buy them from - but you've got the internet, haven't you? get googling (or using the search engine of your choice). here's a lovely pic of my brush: