I'm so sorry I haven't written in the longest time, dear reader. 'Get out!' I hear you say. 'You are a swaggering rogue, Jen Storer, and you have no right calling yourself A Blogger.' I understand if you only read on in order to laugh at my grammar. Or if you have already flicked me off in favour of Mary Tyler Moore reruns on Youtube. In which case you are not reading and, as my kids used to say, I am sad for that.
'Nevertheless!' to quote Katharine Hepburn, here's what I've been up to.
|Jean Dubuffet, 1944. He nailed it, yes??|
I have been unashamedly ripping off Maira Kalman. I am so madly in love with her work and her sense of colour makes me swoon and I have discovered that copying her work gives me enormous insights into her creative process, the nuances, the decisions, the palette and compositions. Copy, copy, copy! It's a brilliant way to learn.
|I've also been copying stills from my Wes Anderson book. Look at Adrien Brody. Just LOOK AT HIM! Right, moving on.|
|That's Maira on the left (ahem). My point of reference is 13 Words, the book she did with Lemony Snicket (Daniel Handler). I'm sure I've told you about it before. The book is genius. A wonderful parody of the old school reader and such a joyful example of how children stray off track when telling a story. You know, 'and then they got in a car and they drove along and they were going to buy a hat for the bird but there was a baby working in the shop and the goat said...' Get the picture? It's a stunning book, visually and textually. (Gosh, did I just write a review? Surely not.)|
Coincidentally, in my local art class (which doubles as my weekly therapy session with the glorious Katie Roberts) we've been studying colour so all this other stuff dovetails beautifully.
I've been in Sydney, too.
Here's my hotel room in Sydney. We stayed at the QT Hotel which is enormously theatrical and luxurious. I highly recommend it should you ever be high and dry in central Sydney. Look how pristine it is! But not for more that sixty seconds. I cannot for the life of me keep order in a hotel room. I am a born FLINGER. Which is why I get awfully nervous when travelling sans Himself. I lose everything. Constantly. From my earrings, to my phone, my shoes, my handbag and definitely All Important Papers. When Himself is with me the first thing he does is set up an IT centre and an official Place. He does! He sets up the phone chargers, the laptop and iPad chargers and centralises all bits and pieces including my jewellery (which if left to me, is the first thing to go missing).
Meantime, we are up to our oxters in packing paraphernalia as M Day draws ever closer. Half our worldly goods have already gone. Even as I pen this I am seated on a tea-chest, sipping Drambuie, wondering where the last eight years went. But never fear. Baxter Street is a state of mind and our new house is practically a mirror of this darling little place. Except, the new house sides onto a bluestone lane. Yes! A lane. How I love lanes! I can almost hear the clip-clop on the night cart's horse. I feel like a heroine in a nineteenth century novel.
But more on the new digs soon.
Thank you for your patience and perseverance, dear reader.
Until next time (when I will be hanging curtains, and making biscuits in my new oven),
Yours in Spinning Colour