up in the air {renov # 17}

{previously}

storytime! is what rises up in me, as i'm stripping more paper off. this renovation business is gradually and unmistakably growing into the longest revamp. 

whilest downtown the folkloric procession is warming up, i hide inside, breathing dust and steam as i slowly scrape my way along the walls. 

son is running in and out, girl stuff and fairground attractions no less, but i remain unimpressed. ha youth! and how to survive it. 

on my wall appear faces, countries. one (stiletto) puss-in-boots booty gets thrown over the bathroom door. 

from nowhere (but really, the ceiling) a magical hanging garden emerges. i revel, i rhyme.  

i have my cuppa, up in the air. the radio's on sports, for the music is just too good. 

on sunday, time runs out.

empire state jane

(mantra! - i shall not cut this up) ☻ it happens that a small wonder is bestowed upon the seeker when thrifting. when small wonders happen, one revels. i move heaven and earth in order to obtain  this reference booklet, that used to belong to a certain i. lenoir, pupil in home economics, 2nd reg. i save the gem from the hands of an overzealous thrift shop assistent, whom i catch aiming for the dustbin, for the booklet's petite size. near fainting, i laboriously extort a sale.

leafing through the A6 hardback, i discover a brimming referent valhallah on 5000 years of costume design. i turn smooth, crisp pages. (i shall not cut this up!). i am drawn to the empire style on p. 42, for mr. darcy carefreely lives on a bookshelf in my mind. i also sigh. empire is a style that would so not become me. i see that from the page, i've noticed that from period films. too chesty. moi.

the booklet rounds up in the present, strikingly called the newest of times, 1940. (still! i will not cut this up).

beyond the bound pages a lose leaf, marked on the back musées royaux d'art et d'histoire, bruxelles. that's more like it. the lady in the picture catches my attention. did i. lenoir let herself bemuse by her, when visiting le musée? and did i. lenoir perhaps make this dress in home economics, for the ball? we shall not ever know. but,

'how quick come the reasons for approving what we like' 
jane austen - persuasion 

visit sophie's flea market adventures today!

drawing | whisper

i've been thinking about whispers on the bus and in the train. i've been numbing myself over whispers in the bath. silent whispers came to me as i was walking the pavement. i have exercised whispering out loud, for further inspiration. frankly this contest wasn't easy. then tuesday morning i woke up with a song in my head, and i knew where i was at. i started humming. people turned their heads. result. [do click on image for detailed viewing]

tiny colophon to the above (clockwise, and from eleven)

whispering sweet nothings {endearments, addressed to a lover}

a whisper is a spoken word |° african|

you make me wanna shout! {well, that would be another song}

a whisper is heard louder than a shout {speaks for itself, really}

the way she whispers the stories i have heard |°fairground attraction|

enjoy (that song)!

in case you're wondering if those blue/green bits in a salmon pink sea are hungry sharks? they are not! they are megaphones, folks, personifying an antonym to this week's challenging theme... ☻ [via jazzytwoshoes, hosting]
PS - it's a drop in the ocean, i realize, but i'm dedicating this post to the unfortunate people of christchurch, NZ and surroundings.

stop apologizing {warding off dreary february, pt 6}

well, yeah. from paul weller's style backwards to the jam, it's a half skip, innit? 'town called malice' always makes me jump off my proverbial rocker. i can't dance to it, no sir. only billy e. could ever do that properly.

in the office today

you don't always wanna know what's hanging over your head.

corner view ≈ blue {warding off dreary february, pt 5}

when blue becomes black'n'white and roomy. in the eighties, looking back at those glorious fifties, bright child british director julian temple committed to a much-a-do-about-nothing. but that much-a-do-british-attempt at a WEST SIDE STORY remake, did however leave a musical imprint on my mind. the mere mention of the word blue, does trigger above song, time and again, style council's contribution being just one good song spiking from that movie. talkin' 'bout impact. and you, dear reader? have you ever (lightheartedly & musically) had it blue? jane's corner view, hosted by theresa.

letting off steam

bell and i need to let off steam, from time to time. she's working (too damn hard) on her business, besides her creative needs, and i'm looking for any excuse not to literally bite the dust in that 'renov'business of mine. so today was the day. we took hubby's white skippy out and rode from town to town, guided by trustworthy nicole, our local gps lady. as if we don't know the way, but nicole prompts us not to lose precious time. [we've been known to end up in the middle of cornfields, 'destination attained', but we have driven ourselves more than mental when not relying on nicole's technical  know how.]

yarn, glorious soft yarn

i'm not breaking news when i'm saying that thrifting is a business that either goes wrong, or right. today, we were riding high. the day turned over magnificent finds. i love it that bell aches for plastic madonnas, the ones you will find on every street corner in lourdes. for bell's  going to do great things with the veiled ladies in her shop (to open may 2011). bell is a conceptional lady after all. i am happy enough already, what am i saying, i am over the (full) moon i got myself one  perfect reason to take out the camera and offer you, under a rainy skylight and from the front row,

a good handful of books and a few dvds

a vintage gobelin patterns magazine

gobelins galore of which one shown here

a graphic pepper & salt shaker set

toy building blocks i gave a first soak, so as to peel off filthy paper

an eric carle toy blocks box

a magnificent praha souvenir vase

a flowered fibreglass serving tray

monochrome glass work

magnetic letters & numbers in a peapod platter on an old atlas (map of the world) to be cut up

TINY memories

a couple of soup mugs

and a ceramic corn syrup canister which the sales lady lovingly insisted on calling a 'pineapple something'. or is it?

yeah? via sophie's flea market finds and apron thrift girl on mondays. i'm heading your ways!

drawing | patchwork posy

desperately hankering for spring, could be a worthy subtitle. are you too longing for it to begin? or are you just sitting out a scorching hot summer? seasons are a funny natural invention. can't hardly imagine australia, for one, is having the sun beating down, whilest we are desperaty raking for warmth and light. argghh! february...

still. there's this drawing challenge, for which i hold objectsofwhimsy responsible for tickling my fancy (i've yet to derive the original origin). whilest i'm fine tuning the organon into non existence, i'm strewing about a handful of flowers, so as to lure them to life, and meet that saturday drawing challenge already. 

(fibre tips on a teenage story called SIMONETTA by ZR VENTURINI - do click on image for more detailed viewing)

oh, how (warding off dreary february, pt 4)

some songs haunt you. as a youngster i didn't know for years who this song was sung by (no internet, remember?). in my thirties-something i finally got round to mister ashdown, or his one song that impressed me. still giving me some shivers, occasionally.

corner view ≈ valentino reprise

written in dust on floor, now existing no more {the floor}

 ♥ tap here ♥

happy {belated} valentine's
♥ dear(s)! ♥

♥

jane's corner view
hosted by theresa

 

seeking candy (warding off dreary february, pt 3)

most people look back at a year at the end of a year, or else at the beginning of a new one. trust me for having that feeling creeping up on me somewhere along here, meaning february. reminiscing by remembering. ha. play loud!

♥ a short story about births. of love ♥

from : BLOEMPJES DER VREUGD, p. 57

once upon a time there was a girl, not called alice. she grew up in the tall shadows of her brothers. at one time fallen behind, then twice, made her three times shy. she was silent well into her nineteens, when she met a soulmate. her search in life refined a little, but chosing between england and the home country wasn't obvious. naturally she chose a third option and gave birth to a boy.

from : XVIIe siècle, lagarde & michard

soon afterward she fell pregnant with creative wants. and needs. she tended a shop for a while, in the pressing days before the nifty virtual creative revolution. her and bell explored x-mas markets, home shows and grander events. 't is only recently, and on the quiet still, the girl's options of plunging well into w3, head first, seem to resurface.  she admits it is scary.

2010 attempt at hauling in mr. valentine, collage on canvas

all through her life valentine has bemused the girl, but her very own valentine hasn't found his way home yet. there's hope, she knows. there's hope. there is already his birthday, each crashing year. there's all the attention he's getting, to which she too, however, succombs fairly. and mildly. so she sits down every twelve months, and collages her dream to life. for when believing in the impossible happens, a truely magical moment is born.

2011 attempt, pieces of a heart, on calico

♥ happy valentine, dear readers. ♥ 

you hold so much inspiration, 

by simply being you's.

i already love you. 

ALL. 

♥

the lazy kitchen

i've said it before, at the likely risk of sounding like a broken record, i'll say it again : cooking in a non existent kitchen qualifies under BKD (borderline kichenatic disorder). which is why i need to do good with every given moment. 

bell found an incredibly yummy meringue heart the other day, which has ended up, no debate, in an instant nigella pavlova. perfect excuse to bury my face in a gigantic dollop of whipped cream (having some in the fridge would be a fine thing). 

i had to make do with storebought straciatella yoghurt, scattered with coral meringue crumbs and a minority of fiery red pomegranate on top. you don't need a recipe for this now, do you?

my my i tried (warding off dreary february, pt 2)

from the indian queen to a handful of swedish ones, i just can't hold back from a little celeb tinsel in the dark spark of feb. even if quite a few notes sound off chord. did you ever notice?

brimful (warding off dreary february, pt 1)

do you remember slum dog millionaire? it seems to me the film got a little too many nominations for a storyline that painfully ends in a monster dance. i did not like the movie, can you tell? 'dancing behind moving scenes', no thank you. brimful of asha on the contrary though, alleging bollywood. sadi rani ☻

corner view ≈ my favourite actor {sometimes}

he ain't my favourite actor, let me tell you straight. but only last week i glanced at catch me if you can again, and even in that dicaprio movie, the flying protagonist is easily beat by hanks' sly sort of innocent come on face, when he decides to pull it. so cruisin' along the obvious w3 channels, in search of hankety-hanks e.g.'s, i came across above excerpt, belonging to this coen brothers production, that i seem to have gone and missed! i dunno. i better shimmy on up, sore bone indeed! {demystify yourself by watching the excerpt}

skylar chose this week's theme in jane's corner view, hosted by theresa.

g-force

when you're seventeen, and you don't know too much about the world, or all the elements (it's possible) and this guy eyes you, and to proove a point he's taping you a casette with favourites, and he's saying, 'they are pretty heavy ones on there, but none too hard, either', you are grateful. 

and when the singer of your favourite song on that tape dies, then that memory dies a little too, after it sparked. gee, but i love a good guitar...

'if she's your life

how can she take your breath away

with just one look at her?

and if she's your world

why can't you tell your nights from day?

when she turns around

does she know when she's found her a fool'

gary moore

1952-2011

of sorts

from : images from THE BELLE EPOQUE, reader's digest, 1988

i guess, as a runner up of sorts to valentine's day 2011, i'm slipping in above image, literally meaning one hundred kisses (or else a panoply of smooches, or while we're at it, hundreds'n'thousands of snogs?) from a book i found on the belle époque in belgium (anno 1900). it is an era i really like, art nouveau being another runner up, in this case to my much favored art deco.

source : subtilit

the nonetheless hotchpotchy 1930's art deco style joins my passion for squares and circles, a mix i adore, e.g. in above example of architectural typography (° 1800's though!), by johann david steingruber. as a matter of fact, that is exactly what i'm subconsciously hunting for when thrifting. that is not to say that i won't get distracted by other curiosities of sorts.

the resin coated ornamental plaques above, have got nothing to do with art deco to my knowledge. but at the small shape they come in (actual size shown here), for the sturdy material they're made of, and at the offbeat low price they were sold at, they might well live happily ever after on my bathroom wall. perhaps the one wall close to the tub, so as to dream away a little, while dipping a few toes in scalding soapy water? does it do that for you too? sophie's sunday flea market finds here.

060205 (111-5) {vintage wallpaper musings}

"imagine that. it's a whole long way off still from 1967. gee, it's even another millennium! fancy that, coming into a brand new world, a brand new era. everything new, pristine. starting from zero. quite literally too.

of course, cynics say we won't survive that. they say, it's all gonna go down the drain on new year's night, 1999 into 2000. like the big bang, but in reverse. i can't say i mind if it does. go down the drain, that is. nothing like a good ol' washing up. it'll be something else, that's for sure.

and then imagine, the date. the sixth of february, 2005. where will be be, hey?"

woolf, 04/02/11

crossword (111-4) {vintage wallpaper musings}

- célestine, what's eight letters to 'keeping your hair on'?

- whàt?

- you heard. don't pretend you didn't.

- come again?

- célestine. i'm trying to keep my hair on here. now, gimme another word for it, eight letters. please?

- right.

- right? célestine, that's five. It's nowhere near its meaning either. come on!

- look, i'm not playing! i dunno. i don't do synonyms tonight.

- oh, don't you? leave you in tranquility, shall i?

- that's right.

- right.

- that's it.

- what?

- your word!

- which word?

- that a-one. tranquility. keeping your hair on.

- is it? too long, remember?

- make it shorter. eight letters.

- huh? tranquil? blimey. you're not kidding. it fits!

- i know. come 'ere, now, will you?

woolf, 19/01/11

T. (111-3) {vintage wallpaper musings}

my name's T. mister T. i live in a street with terraced houses. neigbours therefore, i have a-plenty. much to my dismay. i'd rather just stay. all by myself. all of the time. i'm a mysantropic person in your purest form. i lock the door, any door, at any given time. if not given, then stolen. you know what i mean?

i've often wondered, who's papered the walls in my room? but i just as soon let go of the thought, for an answer i will get not. no one else around, i make sure of that. lonely, me? never. don't let my sweet talk befuddle you, know what i mean?

woolf, 19/01/11

corner view ≈ evening sky

one high summer evening i shot in a panic about an errand i forgot to run. racing against time, i flew through the house like a lunatic,  through to the backyard to grab my bike. as i stumbled outside i met with this evening sky.

front of house where i'd been reading peacefully enough, could not have prepared me for this glaring view in back. i flung myself onto my bike and bore down to where i needed to get to. the august sky, swelled with an impending thunder storm, followed me sullenly. lurking at the ochre sky behind me, a rainbow burst in view in front of me, through as yet unapparant raindrops. i remember thinking to myself, thank you, weather gods!, for such a natural spectacle, and you can count me in. to what, i wonder, in retrospect? ☻ theresa hosts jane's corner view, wanderchow chose this week's theme.