a few old drawings...

lost in translation

I woke up very early this morning remembering the strangest dream. I found a little object you could hold in the palm of your hand, which looked like an ear horn or a tiny gramaphone bell made out of something like moss or seaweed. If you pressed it, it asked if you were a poet or a warrior, and then translated things for you accordingly. I don't know what it translated them into, but it was strange and lovely all the same.


A bit less strange, but just as lovely:

(..a conch shell ear trumpet)

how pearl and gray of it

Spent part of the day wandering around in this...

..and the rest having a most delightful time.

(Antony Gormley's Blind Light at the Hayward Gallery)

Winsor McCay

Little Nemo animation from Winsor McCay, the Famous Cartoonist of the N.Y. Herald and his Moving Comics, (1911).

Heigh-ho, there he goes!

Was just out repotting my little palm and it started to rain in great coin sized drops. My plant is now sitting on the wall while waiting out the shower with his roots dangling down like tiny legs.

Home again, home again

Have just spent a lovely few days teaching students how to make tiny things, eating pancakes, and having my hair styled by a naked two-year-old. My house now seems very dull by comparison.

I was also shown this sizeable site on puppet building by one of my lovely hosts, who spends his time doing things like this.

(The Puppet Building site seems to be down, but here's a link to its creator's PuppetVision Blog.)

doubtful

Edward Gorey in NYC, 1958

Apparently the Henson Co. is developing a live action film of Edward Gorey's The Doubtful Guest, to be directed by sub-Burtonesque director Brad Peyton. Even with Henson's Creature Workshop involved, I don't think any adaptation could begin to touch the perfection of Gorey's work. Such a shame..

My shower has two settings: off, and scalding. It's like a domestic version of one of Dante's rings of hell. My organs haven't yet decided whether to stay coddled. ugh.

the spoils of war

New old shoes.. whee! Along with these beautiful 1950's sunglasses, they put me in a state of sartorial bliss. At least I have something to show for the recent freelance job which nearly sent me into existential crisis.

it's raining, it's pouring

well, not pouring exactly, but it is exceptionally grey. I miss the sun and Arizona. I've been avoiding going back to my little hole all day, and have instead been sat at a borrowed computer in a borrowed house in what feels today like a borrowed country. I wonder how old you have to be before the place you're in finally feels like home?

"in French, chat chapeau"

I am considering this as a look for my dotage... comfortable, stain resistant, and with an insouciant approach to accessorizing. Perfect.

sshhhh...

...I'm remembering the sound of snow falling from branches

I'll tell him: I've brought you raspberry jam

Hedgehog in the Fog (1975) by Yuriy Norshteyn