There are cities one will not see again. A new work, in detail.
On Sunday it rained and everything felt oh so very and delightfully wintery. It was the sort of day when the sky is grey from horizon to horizon and the air is frosty from waking until head hits pillow later that eve. The very sort of day I love because it provides the perfect cover for a self-confessed hermit who loves nothing better than working at home on an artists’ book, a forthcoming book for the APC and reading War & Peace for extended lengths of time. Sunday was the perfect sort of a day for me.
Another sort of day I’m fond of is the sort where the air is crisp but it’s not raining so one can venture out into a park with five newly framed prints and photograph them before delivering them in person to Craft Victoria for an upcoming exhibition all about childhood. This sort of day is light-hearted and jovial, and can only made better by also including a delicious Japanese lunch with a dear friend.
Another sort of day I’m fond of is the sort where the air is crisp but it’s not raining so one can venture out into a park with five newly framed prints and photograph them before delivering them in person to Craft Victoria for an upcoming exhibition all about childhood. This sort of day is light-hearted and jovial, and can only made better by also including a delicious Japanese lunch with a dear friend.
