I've been something of a performer all my life. At primary school, it was drama. I never got to be the heroine or the pretty princess, but that didn't bother me (mostly). Gleeful, gorgeous, grotesque riches were bestowed upon me in the form of 'character' parts: witches, ghosts, and anyone requiring an accent. I got … Continue reading Performance
Very recently, I published a post grieving over the demise of a great love affair of mine, with drawing and with art. But even as I did so, elsewhere in my life I've been subtly, in small ways, bringing drawing, and creativity back into my life. I lament my lack of formally-developed skills and techniques. … Continue reading Small ways to be creative
As a kid, most of my spare time was spent drawing. It was my earliest passion. I was no savant. But I suppose, on reflection, I did have at least some innate "gift". The people I colourfully produced aged just three, in bright felt tip, were anatomically correct (in as much as having, for example, … Continue reading A passion, stolen
In between bouts of abject misery, whilst I've been off work over the summer holidays I've been immersed in a nice little obsession that has gripped every single member of our four-person household. My husband was always a huge Lego fan as a child, and was always eager, from her birth, for our girl to … Continue reading In praise of the brick
[Feature image description: close-up view of the trunk of a Weeping Willow tree, viewed from behind the metal railings of a bridge, diagonally leading away from the bottom left to the top right of the image. The tree is resplendent with masses of bright green leaves hanging downwards. Behind the tree and its branches, a … Continue reading The same crap, on top of everything different
There are often times when I envy my daughter and other children her age. Autism or no autism, it's not considered socially unacceptable for a preschooler to spend a lot of time dancing and twirling around, even in public. If I could, I would probably spend most of my time dancing. I don't really mean … Continue reading It’s no good. Start the dance.