I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER
digital collage 12ins x 12ins
I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day,
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!
Extract from I Remember, I Remember by Thomas Hood
Ten years ago, I took a trip to one of the villages in Herefordshire where several generations of my maternal ancestors had lived. My 2 x great grandmother was a school mistress and I hoped to take photographs of the place where she had taught. Sadly, the village school was uninhabited and in a sorry state of semi-dereliction. Undeterred, I stood on the back of an obliging friend and, peering into the darkness, took a few quick snaps. Recently, I scanned these pre-digital age photographs and was struck by their curious atmosphere. One in particular, taken through rotten, ragged curtains, of a window across the other side of a deserted classroom, has since crept into a few of my artworks. It brings to mind one of my earliest memories: that of lying in my darkened bedroom and looking towards the window opposite my bed. Possessed of an over active imagination, seeing strange faces in the wallpaper, curtain fabric and any shadow that flitted across the room, my poor mother could do little to calm my fear of the dark which persisted well into adulthood. Setting out to use the window photograph in another image reminded me of Thomas Hood's sad poem which many English children of my generation were taught to recite by heart and I was struck by the difference from my great grandmother's "Little Recitations", remembered from her schooldays, which included "Flo's Letter": a jolly piece about a little girl writing to ask God to send her baby sister some teeth for Christmas.
I create my work on a Mac and an aware that images usually look darker on a PC, so apologies to all of you viewing this on a PC, if it looks like nothing more than a pile of mush!
Those of you who share my interest in decaying ruins should visit the Abandoned Britain site.
This has been a week of lovely surprises. First off, I want to thank LaWendula for asking if she could feature my blog and artwork on her blog, LaWendeltreppe (which means lavender spiral staircase in German). especially as she has previously featured two artists whose blogs are a constant inspiration to me: Seth Apter and Bridgette Guerzon Mills. LaWendula has chosen to share three of my pieces that she particularly enjoys and you can see them here. If you are curious and follow the link, be sure to spend some time looking at the beautiful work of other featured artists. Next, another big thank you to Linda of Rosie and Linda's Big Art Adventure, a challenge blog that was one of the first places I discovered and bookmarked when I began blogging. A lurker on the blog for months, enjoying the wonderful array of art created in response to Rosie and Linda's prompts and leaving an occasional comment, I've recently responded to two of their challenges. Linda has posted one of my contributions here and is now thinking of trying digital art for herself.
Credits: The image began life as a photograph taken in the village of Foy, Herefordhire. It also comprises a scan of a photograph in a toy auction catalogue, of an 18th century wooden folk-art doll. The image was then developed by layering and recolouring papers including French Country Papers by Christina Renee; Washed Artist Canvas Papers available at Miss Crow's Magickal Emporium; a paper from the Creation 23 Collaboration Kit by Catherine Designs and Create Wings; several CU papers by Amanda Rockwell and Digiscrap. Also used to create texture were the following elements from Holliewood Design's She's So Trashy: tape, dirt and stain (all recoloured and overlaid). The net (recoloured and overlaid) is from Geist available and Miss Crow's Magickal Emporium and the loose thread stitching is from Needful Things by Sausan Designs.
digital collage 12ins x 12ins
I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day,
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!
Extract from I Remember, I Remember by Thomas Hood
Ten years ago, I took a trip to one of the villages in Herefordshire where several generations of my maternal ancestors had lived. My 2 x great grandmother was a school mistress and I hoped to take photographs of the place where she had taught. Sadly, the village school was uninhabited and in a sorry state of semi-dereliction. Undeterred, I stood on the back of an obliging friend and, peering into the darkness, took a few quick snaps. Recently, I scanned these pre-digital age photographs and was struck by their curious atmosphere. One in particular, taken through rotten, ragged curtains, of a window across the other side of a deserted classroom, has since crept into a few of my artworks. It brings to mind one of my earliest memories: that of lying in my darkened bedroom and looking towards the window opposite my bed. Possessed of an over active imagination, seeing strange faces in the wallpaper, curtain fabric and any shadow that flitted across the room, my poor mother could do little to calm my fear of the dark which persisted well into adulthood. Setting out to use the window photograph in another image reminded me of Thomas Hood's sad poem which many English children of my generation were taught to recite by heart and I was struck by the difference from my great grandmother's "Little Recitations", remembered from her schooldays, which included "Flo's Letter": a jolly piece about a little girl writing to ask God to send her baby sister some teeth for Christmas.
I create my work on a Mac and an aware that images usually look darker on a PC, so apologies to all of you viewing this on a PC, if it looks like nothing more than a pile of mush!
Those of you who share my interest in decaying ruins should visit the Abandoned Britain site.
This has been a week of lovely surprises. First off, I want to thank LaWendula for asking if she could feature my blog and artwork on her blog, LaWendeltreppe (which means lavender spiral staircase in German). especially as she has previously featured two artists whose blogs are a constant inspiration to me: Seth Apter and Bridgette Guerzon Mills. LaWendula has chosen to share three of my pieces that she particularly enjoys and you can see them here. If you are curious and follow the link, be sure to spend some time looking at the beautiful work of other featured artists. Next, another big thank you to Linda of Rosie and Linda's Big Art Adventure, a challenge blog that was one of the first places I discovered and bookmarked when I began blogging. A lurker on the blog for months, enjoying the wonderful array of art created in response to Rosie and Linda's prompts and leaving an occasional comment, I've recently responded to two of their challenges. Linda has posted one of my contributions here and is now thinking of trying digital art for herself.
Credits: The image began life as a photograph taken in the village of Foy, Herefordhire. It also comprises a scan of a photograph in a toy auction catalogue, of an 18th century wooden folk-art doll. The image was then developed by layering and recolouring papers including French Country Papers by Christina Renee; Washed Artist Canvas Papers available at Miss Crow's Magickal Emporium; a paper from the Creation 23 Collaboration Kit by Catherine Designs and Create Wings; several CU papers by Amanda Rockwell and Digiscrap. Also used to create texture were the following elements from Holliewood Design's She's So Trashy: tape, dirt and stain (all recoloured and overlaid). The net (recoloured and overlaid) is from Geist available and Miss Crow's Magickal Emporium and the loose thread stitching is from Needful Things by Sausan Designs.
12 comments:
i love they mystical eerieness of this piece!
and the exerpt of the poem fits
i follow both of these blogs as well and discovered lawendeltreppe's when seth was featured
how cool you are being featured too!!!
linda a rosie have great challenges...i never have time to participate and am amazed with the entries each time and yours are no exception!
great work!
Great work Lumi, this is a very interesting piece with a sad story tied to it.
Congratulations on your growing artistic recognition my friend.
Beautiful - I saw the window right away (I have a Mac and had no idea there could be a difference in what people might see ....)
I used to scream bloody murder when I was a kid cuz I swore I could see witches in the tree branches out my window - and yes - afraid of the dark until becoming married and wrapped in safety.
I'm so happy for you getting the recognition .... I love your art ..... and I sense you living out some dreams and expressing your inner self with it. Thank you for sharing it all with the rest of us :)
Thanks for putting me on your blog!
Have a very good time!
And I'm afraid you're right, it's a bit too dark on a PC.
This is lovely. I am deeply touched.
YOu are soooo talented, Miss Lumilyon! I was thrilled to see your work featured on the Awfully Big Art Adventure, and I told them so. This piece is as mysteriously moody and hypnotic as your work always is, and it suits the poem perfectly. I wish I wish I were a writer so I could write a terribly atmospheric story about one of your pieces. But since, I'm NOT, I'll have to content myself with passing an award along to you. It's on my blog awaiting pick-up when you have the time.
XOXO,
Alberta
How some things can stir childhood memories and get a life of their own! I remember being afraid of anything under my bed and to this day the feeling of pillows next to my sides makes me fall asleep a bit more comfortable haha
Awesome on getting featured and being recognized as an very inspiring artist ;-)
I love this piece..I just found your blog and I am glad..Your work is wonderful.
Katelen
This piece is spectacular. Period! And thank you so much for your kind and generous thoughts
We are so glad you found us....your contributions have been stunning! (I still haven't a clue how you do it though.)
Linda
ABAA
PS Love this piece - and what you wrote.....
I relate to this piece. I wasn't afraid of the dark as much as I was afraid of the night and everyone falling asleep before me - I would be the only one awake and aware and it scared me. I heard every little noise, anguished between having my back to the window or the door as I tried to fall asleep and would often end up sleeping on the floor at the end of my parents' bed. I still have a wee problem when no one else is home trying to fall asleep, but I've surrendered to whatever might come and "get me" long ago. Anyway, the story behind the piece give it a lot of added strength. It is lovely and beautiful and peaceful somehow in its own precious way.
Your work touches me.... and together with your thoughts ....beautiful.
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