Liquid

A little liquid refreshment on a slightly melancholy rainy autumn Sunday night (goodbye summer!), and a drawing for Illustration Friday - back to it after a long break.

I've been doing lots of thinking about where I'm going with work, design, illustration and this blog, which has been left untended for months, really. Not forgotten, but hibernating. Working out where to next. Plan of Action, here I come.

Foxes in Autumn

It's early autumn, warm and sunny, and I've been creating a set of foxy wall art for my art licensing agent in the US. Agent! Goodness me. It's amazing how easily I can say that now. A few years ago it would have been a far-off fantasy. I don't take it for granted, either - it's still early days, and I'm an art licensing beginner.

What I'm discovering is a new sense of purpose. I like being given briefs, especially when they're not something I'd normally do. Like foxes, which don't live here in New Zealand. Or squirrels (ditto). Or cute owls, which I drag my feet about drawing - there are way too many of them out there in the world, in my opinion!

Storm

Illustration Friday's theme this week: Storm. A small  kind of storm brewed over my head all of yesterday, along with an ominously twitching eye and gritted teeth. Today I am quite  a different person (or mouse), and I realise it's because I went to bed early. So simple, really.

Myth

I had to dig about a bit for this week's Illustration Friday prompt. Traditional myths were never my favourite thing to read when I was a kid (I liked science fiction and stories about girl ballet dancers), plus we were always forced to read them at school.

This, however, is a modern myth, created by the eight year old who lives in this house. From the many comments he has made over the years, I realise that he has created his own mythical legend; that of the perfect mother he will never have. This mother:

1. Owns a pair of psychic X-ray goggles for locating underpants, socks, Lego men and TV remotes.
2. Never raises her voice above a loving musical whisper.
3. Believes that boys should rest on the sofa to conserve their energy, while being served delicious and nutritious white bread, tomato sauce and lollies.
4. Possesses a bountiful money tree and is generous about sharing it.
5. Agrees that all eight year old boys should possess an iPhone.

Snow

This week's Illustration Friday prompt: snow. None of that here, only summer showers and school holidays. I've emerged from nearly five months of no-blogging, realising with alarm that if I don't get back into it now I maybe never will. I'm rusty and so is my drawing brain, but here is my first baby step back up the mountain. Starting is always the hardest part!

This Windy Weekend

Bits and pieces from this windy weekend: prints, ceramics and other covetable things at the Art & Design Market Day down at Britomart. Olympic madness - I'm loving it this time round (can't remember a thing about the last two). This morning L and I lay in a pile of pillows and blankets and watched it for three whole hours. He particularly liked the very small staunch women weightlifters but found the dressage boring. I always like watching the gymnastics and anything else involving pointed feet. But what is it with that hideous magenta Olympics logo and strange spiky typeface? Yuck. And the popularity of neon shoes? I'm looking forward to all of it, getting us through the next few rainy winter weeks.

Bad Dog

We have a dog problem. Since we've moved, L has become scared of one particular big black barking dog who lives on the way to school. Now the fear has expanded to include all dogs. Sometimes it can take half an hour to get him out of the house, and on the way he'll often dissolve into a hysterical mess, even if there's not a dog in sight. What to do? It's awful seeing how enormous and paralysing his fear has become. The school's helping out by getting the animal ranger to come in and talk to the kids, and by getting him to fill in a special 'bad dog report book' every day. Together we're trying to work out the best way forward. I thought maybe drawing pictures of hideous dogs might help. This one made him laugh, so that's a start.

Goodbye, House

Moving. Even after months of knowing it was coming, it was still a shock to see the house stripped back to its bare walls and dusty corners. Seven and a half years is one of the longest times I've ever lived in one place. We moved there when L was four months old. I used to come over in the daytime and paint while he was sleeping. Those poor floral-papered walls needed help. They were fighting a losing battle with the sea of swirly turquoise and crimson Axminster carpet and the over-sized flowery pink nylon lampshades. It took a while, but slowly the little brown house with its creaky doors, rampant ivy and exploding fuse box, became our home.

I went back the other day to check the letterbox for stray mail, and there was already an ugly stump where the camellia bush used to be. There were muddy tyre tracks on the front lawn, and an ominous looking digger squatted in the driveway. Poor old house. You were cold and draughty in winter and nothing ever worked properly, but you were sunny and surrounded by pink camellias all year round. I'll miss you.