I do like a good swear word. When it is appropriate, and in moderation. Use any word too often and it loses all meaning. Slightly off on a tangent, a tanker driver in work annoyed me yesterday. Can’t even remember what we were chatting about in the office, but he was going to swear, and then stopped himself, because I was there. Oh the poor little innocent lady who can’t cope with swear words. BAH.
I unexpectedly sold some embroidery on Newbloodart the other week- ‘False Hope 2’. I like it, but it wasn’t overly…..well done. But I think it had some oomph. Feeling. I made it the morning following one of the most traumatic nights of my life which resulted in absolutely no sleep. Rather mad, though lovely, friends and a bridge and shouting and ringing policemen and ambulance men and panic and…yeah wow. Not good times. Yet still we ended up in the school of art somehow the next day….?! So that is when I sewed this. All art must have a story behind it, I guess we just don’t always find out that story. I want to tell people my stories. Oh no, I’ve been rabbiting on about this, and I can’t find a picture of it… Oh no. Please don’t tell me I sold it without taking a photo? Oops.
This page from my current sketchbook seems appropriate.
Handed my work in at the Washington Gallery in Penarth this morning, tis a lovely space, I am very excited about the exhibition opening on Friday! Although wondering what they’ll make of my swear words… I managed to leave before they’re had a look. Oh it’s art, they can’t censor me. Ha ha. Pretty, huh? Well I like it 🙂