Sometimes you have to think long and hard about what to create and sometime things just pop out all of a sudden.  Last Sunday I had an idea that I wanted to draw on fabric with a dip pen and these are the result.  I have to think that the ideas were already formed in my subconscious because as soon as I sat down at my desk, I started drawing these.  I have been doing alot of doodling in my sketch book lately and that must have helped to free up ideas.  I wish creating always came so easily!
These little 4 by 4 inch pieces are now for sale in my Etsy : )

Not too long ago I came across a story which I found so totally charming that I wanted to do a print of it.  Seeing as I know the author, Becky Martin, quite well, I was able to get permission: )  The print is a linocut done with painted Japanese tissue for colour.  I probably should have made the hair auburn.  Hmmmm,  there may be more of these in the future.  Here is the story and my print:

When I was in grade five, my hair started making decisions for itself. It grew elaborately from my scalp, with auburn curls twisting upwards and then furling back into a beehive. When I woke up in the morning, I would find myself wrapped in a nest of curls. While I was searching for my blankets, they left the bed before I did, anticipating the movements of my still small feet. 

My mother made oatmeal for breakfast every morning. She would kiss my father out the door and sit down with my siblings and I as we searched for candy dinosaur eggs in the oats. My hair, unconcerned with oatmeal would stray into my sibling’s personal space, and my mother would exclaim, “Oh! Rebecca! You have the most beautiful hair of all girls! Don’t ever lose it. Don’t let anyone take it. Your hair will open doors for you one day.”,  and I thought she was being literal, but I know now that she wasn’t.

On the walk to school, birds would pluck single strands from my head, and I let them. This was the best part of my day. I was happy to know that whatever fear or embarrassment my hair might eventually cause, it would at least provide a sturdy foundation for the nests of neighbourhood birds.

Sometimes at school, small groups of boys would crowd around me and climb inside my hair, one at a time. Sometimes they would be yelling. I’d try to reach in after them, but couldn’t bend my elbow backwards like the double jointed girl in our class. Usually I had to wait for them to find their way out, but some boys got lost. My friend Peter was in my hair for three weeks until he came tumbling out. He told me ‘it smells like peaches!’  and so I didn’t eat fruit for years.

I can't believe it's been a whole month since my last post.  Much has happened in the "real" world and not so much in internet land.  I became a member of the Georgina Art Centre and Gallery.  It's quite an amazing place; having collections of Albert Chiarandini, Bruce Smith, Tom Zolt and First Nations art, not to mention lots of classes, workshops and camps.  I am so pleased to be in the process of having some of my prints for sale in the Gallery Shoppe.  I also have two prints  in their wonderful exhibit, Artist's Exposed, which displays the work of the shop artists.  I headed up there yesterday for the reception and was blown away by the quality of the art on display.  The snacks were pretty amazing too!  I'm so pleased to be a member of the centre now.  If you have a chance, it's really worth the trip to Sutton.