Who taught you?

When I was about four, I remember being excited about an upcoming visit to my grandparent's house. No matter where they lived, we would always visit them. My grandmother was the most stylish and chic woman I have ever known. She was a little shorter than me and she had a fire in her that shone like a blinding light.

 This particular visit was personally important, because my grandmother had promised to teach me how to knit.  I had my wool and needles ready - a pair of golden, anodized needles I think. We sat huddled on the velour lounge, her on one side and my mother on the other. She showed me how to cast on and how to click away with needles, winding the wool as I went.

Magically, something that resembled a fabric appeared. Stitch after stitch, row after row. Persevering through countless dropped-stitch rescues, untangling of tangles and navigating the tricky terrain of wool changes, I ended up with something that very much resembled a scarf (similar to that worn by Dr Who as portrayed by Tom Baker circa 1974.)

My mother has always knitted, sewn, decorated cakes and generally created amazing things and I wanted to be just like her. My mother, along with my grandmother handed me down many things over the years...but this love of making, this desire to be industrious, to create, to build, to invent, to reinvent surely must be one of their greatest gifts.

My mother taught me many skills and techniques for making things, but today my memories of my grandmother linger with me. Over the years she taught me sewing with a machine. She taught me embroidery. She taught me to learn from the mistakes.

So, after thinking about these small but significant beginnings to my life of making, I can't help but ask the question...who taught you?

So beautiful...

 We are the music makers,


And we are the dreamers of dreams,
 

Wandering by lone sea-breakers,


And sitting by desolate streams;

World-losers and world-forsakers,


On whom the pale moon gleams:


Yet we are the movers and shakers


Of the world forever, it seems.

Arthur O’Shaughnessy, 1st stanza from his poem Ode, 1874

If you think that the first two lines sound familiar, they are quoted in Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory when Veruca is being particularly irritating...

xxx Ness

Welcome to my daring adventure…

These days, I’ve found it’s easy to become preoccupied with daily distractions, instead of taking a quiet moment to stop and remember what it is that feeds my soul. More often than not, those things that are most important, that are a brighter reflection of the person I am, seem to get lost in the greyish-blur of everyday living.

I have a passionate desire to live with a more honest, authentic approach to the world, with a focus on creativity and artistic expression and to make the most of the very short time that is gifted to us. So, I’m starting this blog to force myself to stop, think and share my thoughts about creativity and what inspires it in myself and others - in whatever form that may take.  I have a particular obsession with delving into the lives of people, places and artifacts of the past.  I love the Belle Epoque and Art Deco eras and find them a constant source of interest and inspiration.

If you are wondering about Mossy and Tangle, they were born out of the musings of George MacDonald in his short story The Golden Key.  When he wrote Mossy and Tangle into existence, he revealed a faery world of infinite, imaginative possibility. Many years ago, I was introduced to The Golden Key.  Since then,  his short stories have captured me. One of my favorites is The History of Photogen and Nycteris: A Day and Night Mahrchen.  You should be warned however, that these stories might have the effect of sweeping you into some distant, romantic kingdom of princesses, wolves and witches.  If you decide to venture into his world, you will discover his talent for painting with words.

Writing this blog is something of a daring adventure, so beginning with two, young, wide-eyed travellers like Mossy and Tangle seems like the right place to start. 

"Mossy and Tangle took each other’s hand and walked away into the depth of the forest.  In his right hand Mossy held the golden key."

George MacDonald, The Golden Key, 1867

xxx Ness