corner view ≈ motion

update : naturally i would let you in on the mystery. 67 came pretty close! if you look into the only sharp focal point in the image {just off centre}, you will find some branches magically forming the number 64. the branches are pale. now you know it, you see it, right? ♥ thank you all for playing, you are stars!

i talked to a friend over the phone, looking out into the winter garden patch, as one does when wrapped up in distant conversation. gazing up, towards the rain sodden skies, my eye rested upon a certain numeral discovery. afterwards i played around a bit with an online photo editor and focal zoomed which causes slight movement at the image sides. can you find my house number, hiding in the branches? jane's corner view, francesca's hosting. 

25.{0}1

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i walked on a sunday morning, noticing the sound of fire engines swelling in the distance. 
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crossing my fingers inside my coat's pocket.
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silently wishing all concerned would be okay. 
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getting closer to home i stopped at the railway tracks and found a piece of unexpected installation art. 
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who's to call this piece of happenstance untrue, 
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who's to discredit the unintended artist, 
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who's to ignore art is anywhere and everywhere, as long as you look, as long as you feel the soul of the place. 
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this post was supposed to go up on the 25th of january ....
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and then it didn't.
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so, here's a day late.
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perhaps just a clarification on behalf of the embroidered footstool? 
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i thrift shop the vintage embroidery pieces, wash them, and next put them together in a new project, such as the stool. 
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nope, i don't do needle work as such. 
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heavens, imagine! 
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i'd get no sleep...! ☻
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enjoy sunday.
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i know i will.
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corner view ≈ colours of january

defying the dull rain and wind filled winter skies, i've come up with nothing but colour for january. but it is only francesca's theme that made me realize this. the ongoing story of the granny blanket makes me dive into my yarn basin almost every night. just yesterday i gathered strength and breath to finally cover a footstool with embroidery patchwork. it only took me half a day. jane's corner view. 

drawing | numen

every so often i encounter creative work by someone completely unknown to me, work which simply blows me away. awe adds to my surprise if the artist or the work owns a particular feature that talks to me. not necessarily in the best of ways, but rare and raw. 

i felt this frisson for eugene andolsek about whom i wrote in june 2010. his mathematical doodling puzzling me, i simply fall silent over his imagery {and life story!}. nigel peake's drawings do it to me as well, the ooh's and aah's. this week it happened again, completely unawares of eric ravilious. how come i never before ran into ravilious' work, anywhere? 

gazing at his delightfully painted and illustrated aquarels however, make my heart sing. the innovativeness, the charm, the modernism that ooze from ravilious' tableaus talk sense to me. artistically capturing everyday scenes and whipping them into a delight cannot please me more. i feel i know him. i could just fall in love with him. i have fallen in love with him.

discovering ravilious so unexpectedly, helps me along with my 2014 project as well, which i proudly present here. there's a river running through the town i live in (also the new project's title ~ translated from my native tongue), and for 365 days i will be offering a sight a day. not the most obvious sights either, just the peculiar ones, the awesome ones, the ones that for some reason attract my attention and burn themselves gently into my brains. and heart. and soul. 

numen helped me get here, i'm convinced. the intention sort of grew organically {i felt i needed to record reality, connect purpose to the drawing experience, bring into play my and other's quirks. and urge myself} and then i took it from there. also the unimpaired riddle of people recognizing a {their!} dwelling here or an unexpected sight there pleases me.

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so. thanks to tammie, who's hosting the drawing challenge this weekend, i incorporated a bit of this to a bit of that, my favourite kind of play anyway. what numen do you live up to, i wonder. 
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corner view ≈ a good read {missing theo & co}

carel fabritius (1622-1654) was a promising dutch painter. his personal life speckled with disaster (losing two children and his first wife while giving birth to their third), he himself succombs to the consequences of a near-his-home powder-house explosion, in the midst of a portrait. most of his artwork was destroyed in the blast, which may be the reason so very little of fabritius' hand is known today. 

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donna tartt uses this point of interest to tell a scintillating contemporary story of loss and particular redemption in THE GOLDFINCH. i can think of no better read at the moment, and yes, you'll need time to finish the near eight hundred pages, bless donna. ☻ 
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jane's corner view, francesca's hosting. 
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winter reds

corner view ≈ darkness and light

in the morning, as i wake up, i've started noticing a douglas fir's branches bending in the wind, in shadows on the opposite wall from my bed. i'm sure it's been there forever, but i've only started seeing it now. sharp shadows remind me of my years in college, when i pushed my analog images way beyond tolerance. i have always had a soft spot for hard contrasts, darkness and light being my personal sibling rivals. jane's corner view, francesca's hosting, dorte's theme.

♪♪ so-oh. ring, ring, ... ♫

i was watching abba specials recently. a tune stuck to my brains. i've been enjoying finishing off small projects. ringing out the old in oostend, in b's company, we galavanted our way through soft, mild weather, visiting a tiny exhibition on upcoming belgian talent. hans defer's work well impressed me. images are to follow. for now. ringing... and wishing... all of you...