My Treasure Box

My artistic attempts

Experimental Art based on this class from Peter Symonds

Collage and acrylics on a theme of my swinging and balancing between Romanian and British cultures.

Collage and acrylics on a theme of trauma and distress.

*Portrait inspired by Nicolae Tonitza with pastels.*

*Collage and attempt at cubist guitar with pastels. It ended up being about guitar, campfires in the woods, joyful dancing.*

*Collage and attempt at cubist mug with pastels. It ended up being about my mum: steaming cup, rain and tears, falling curtains.*

*Still life of chairs and balloons, chalk and pastels.*

*Still life of paper object, vase and skull on white cloth, trying to see shades of white and put some movement in the background. My first go with acrylics, leftovers from my children's art classes.*

*Still life of paper object, vase and skull on white cloth. I tried again with less colours.*

*Still life of paper objects with chalk and ink on black cloth. I went heavy with the ink and tried to correct with some pointilist style, attempting to make the cloth "move" with the objects still.*

*Still life of paper object with chalk and ink on black cloth. I tried again with one object, less heavy on the ink.*

Sketches in charcoal and coloured pencils, based on an online class

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More sketches here

Crafts - Upcycling, sewing, collage, unusual displays

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A bit of writing

At various times in my life, I tried different styles of writing (see main page for more 😊). Here are some examples. The short story included here is my only bit of published fiction.

This short story appeared in a local magazine, Hampshire View, in April 2008.

They are not small forever

“Do I have everything?". I don’t mean this to be a philosophical, soul-searching question; more a practical bag-searching query. It's another normal day for me and, once again, I am preparing to leave my house for a walk into town with my six month old twins. As always, I am prepared for all seasons: pouring rain, blistering sun, biting cold or piercing winds. For the little ones I must be prepared for any eventualities they encounter: hunger, thirst, boredom, as well as bodily functions. All present and correct we leave our terraced victorian house and begin our trek to the high street.

Town is a short walk taking in Hyde and Jewry Street. Hardly have we started however and bump into, with an apologetic crash of prams, our neighbour Carrie. She's the mother of two adorable toddlers and today is accompanied by her ex. An ironic grouping considering that Carrie is a high powered town solicitor specializing in divorces herself. Glancing at Carrie's figure I find myself about to congratulate her on having a third child on the way, however something stops me from mentioning this. Mercy that my tired mind that morning still has its "embarassing comments" firewell set to high risk altert mode. The conversation instead is more routine.

“Hi, so nice to see you! How are the sweet darlings?”
“Really good" , replies Carrie, adding "they're so excited about their new brother or sister.”Phew, now I know the reason for Carrie's tummy bulge I can relax. I need to add that rule to my firewall.“Congratulations! You don’t show at all, I would have never guessed! Three!! I find it so hard with my two! Don’t you miss the old days? The court, power suits, winning a case?” Carrie pauses to consider this question. She replies in a soft voice, so none of the children will hear.“No, I feel really fulfilled and accomplished now", leaning forward to add".. in such a profound way, so much, much, more than before“.I feel moved by her answer and momentarily don't know how to respond. Carrie isn't finished with her answer though and as an epilogue adds,“They won’t be small for ever, you know? It goes so quickly, such a special time in their lives and they really need their mother now… Feels like yesterday when I had Annie". Realizing she's on a roll Carrie finishes with the question every mother has to deal with"Why, you aren’t thinking of work, already, are you?”

I can't remember the answer I gave, but at that moment I felt like I was in the court of motherhood, being cross examined by Carrie the power solicitor and super mom while the jury of assembled toddlers, newborns, and children to be waited for my answer. My boy's eyes looked up at me with a gaze that in that moment captured all their smiles, their laughs, their tears, and our shared future together. No words can explain that feeling; the emotion of motherhood has no equal on this earth. Love is not a strong enough word to even come close. Crashing from the courtroom of dreams to the pavement I am awakened when one of my cherubs starts to cry. A hurried goodbye to Carrie and we wend our way to the town centre.

Our arrival time coincides with lunch break for the workers of Winchester and our next encounter is Steve from my old office; master geek, creative know-it-all, uber inventor, thought leader, and so forth. Despite his brilliance in these fields he is clearly clueless about babies, once expected them to be fully walking and talking at 5 months old. I shield him baby talk this time trying to find out what's going on back at work. Steve starts arm waving about something or other that seems to involve a lot of acronyms and obscure terms that, once upon a time, I was versant in and made up most of my waking day. Today however it just washes over me and fails to excite me in the slightest, having the rather unfortunate effect of making me feel suddenly extremely bored and tired.

"So, when are you coming back to work", Steve asks me with a cheerful grin. Two cross examinations in one day. This time my crime however is not finding interesting a world with e-mails, phone calls, deadlines, meetings, internal politics, and so forth. It's a world Steve clearly relishes drowning in each day in the office so my answer must be careful not to upset him.“Errr, not sure... My babies are still so tiny, so young”. I feel pleased at my reply because it sort of absolves me from the decision. Steve, not only clueless about the pace of infant development, has no concept of what it means to be a mother or parent. He's an engineer though so every problem has a logical solution. If I can't work because the babies are young his reponse is predictably,“But they won’t be like that forever, surely ?"Nice one Steve. Yup, they'll grow up soon I can slide back into the humdrum of office life while I watch them becoming boisterous teenagers. Steve senses his answer might have been insenstive. "Up to you obviously, I did not mean, What I meant is ...”This getting worse. I spare Steve from trying to dig his way out by telling him I have to hurry to the doctor so the little ones can get immunized and we bid our farewells. My trek becomes more ardous as I navigate blocked pavements, big issue hawkers, a pushchair breakdown, finally forcing me to strike camp by the City Cross as I sit down to catch my breath. I need to update my checklist next time; leave behind the sun cream in October but check the battery charge.

A familiar voice chimes in, “Hi there!”. It's Jenny, my neighbour, who seems to have fared the high street better than me this morning.”Look at them. Haven’t they grown! Aren’t they sweet?”I've had enough of deep and meaningful conversations about motherhood versus careerhood. I just want to get my pushchair fixed so I can get home before the rain gets any worse. Jenny becomes very practical all of a sudden. While Steve the engineer is back at work now sending e-mails, Jenny and I are ironically looking at the underside of a pushchair trying to fix something that shouldn't need fixing.

"Aha, I see", Jenny talks reassuringly as she works away, "My niece had one like this. There is a button just above the wheel that blocks it. The rain cover must have pushed it. Let me try pushing this big and pulling this bit at the same time".There is a clicking noise and I try the wheel again. It's fixed. The rain stops at the same time. Jenny is a saint and I reward her with an invitation to come back for a coffee. On the way to Hyde via River Park and the arching plane trees I ask Jenny about her family, now grown up."Tony", Jenny's eldest she explains, "is teaching at St Swithun and about to get married next summer. Sam works in publishing in London and moved in with some friends in a new flat, and Jo has left for Southampton University".Looking at my little ones as I push them past the rugby fields Jenny clearly reminisces back to the times when she too worried about nap times and nappies rather than napster and homework on Napoleon."I can't believe they've all fled the nest now. It's so hard to believe when they are so young like your two". Jenny is in freestyle memory lane now and adds, "They're not small forever, that's what you have to remember, it goes so quickly, so quickly".

What does a mother do when babies have become children who have become teenagers who have become adults ? Jenny answers me without being prompted."What will I do with myself the whole day after all this time ?".Surely she has plans that she put on ice before the babies arrived."I think", Jenny pauses to think, "that I'll get a degree, join the Wildlife trust, catch up with friends, join the choir, ...". It's like an outpouring of all her dreams, her plans, her ambitions, and her goals that she had to suspend when she became a mother. I feel a sense of regret in her, that her children somehow stopped her from doing all the stuff she really wanted to that, now she has her days back to herself, she can resume. Maybe she'll appreciate them more this time around.

That night I start to write a fresh to-do-list adding: "Don't forget friends, don't stop hobbies, enjoy the twins while they're still young, don't worry about the career going on hold". It's a good set to be going with, however at the top I add the more urgent items, "Find and read the pushchair manual".

When my boys were in year 8, they had a homework to write a sonnet on a topic of their choosing. I remember helping them and trying to find rhymes for table tennis! The experience inspired me to write these two sonnets referencing various events of their childhood.

Sonnet 1

My dear child, I am, oh, so proud of you
Your charm, your energy and passion.
You learn, you play, you care, you love too
And look after others with compassion.

From my chubby baby with his round cheeks
To the child of six who won his mission
To see on stage how his Miss Moffet speaks
To my tween now full of big ambition.

I know you want me to watch how you play,
But I cannot help you, and what if you lose?
I know that you will get what you want one day
And a good win will come after each bruise.

Just two more wishes, please: clean up your mess!
And you and your brother should argue less!

Sonnet 2

My dear child, I am, oh, so proud of you
Smart, kind, funny, if always a bit shy,
My first born by a minute or two
A small baby, with big eyes, ready to cry.

The tears were near, but you were first
To solve that puzzle and always ask why.
My heart stopped when you fell, it was the worst
But you were fine and the partridges flew high.

Who knew you'd bake us all those cakes!
I was so happy when you made the team!
The math, the sport, the drums and all it takes
And mother and son programming dream.

Just two more wishes, please: clean up your mess!
And you and your brother should argue less!

Shapes and colours

Watercolours and sharpies: geometric shapes and illustrations for my children stories

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Photography

I got a camera relatively late, in my early twenties. Since then, I liked to snap-snap-snap and record moments and emotions.
See more photos on my account