My Morning Ritual

At the start of each new day, dressed in my mothers old pink silk floral kimono, i head for the kitchen, once there prepare a pot of good strong Colombian coffee.

With cup in hand i wander down the wide hallway to my work room, here i sit at a rickety old painted table, that has for years now been a make shift desk.

Scattered with pretty china trinket dishes filled with all manner of old glass brooches, broken diamonte' necklaces an assortment of metal buckles, odd ceramic beads and a few tarnished brass charms.

An incredibly old apothecary bottle holds a few magenta pink roses, a vintage pressed glass comport full and spilling over displaying deliciously exotic velvet and organza ribbons.

A pile of inspirational magazines, a few sheets of note paper, a pottery bud vase decorated with pink roses, stuffed tightly with pens and pencils, a sketch pad, a tin of water colours paints and my journal, awaiting its daily entry.

Here i sit and ponder as to what i shall achieve each day, i make a list, of which i try to stick with.
.
A quick flick through one of the magazines, i finish my coffee, then head off for a stroll around the grounds before starting the day in earnest.....

My Workroom

Sitting centre stage, a huge wooden factory table, more often than not piled high with layer upon layer of neatly folded textiles.
Time worn, almost threadbare, woven tapestries, velvets, damasks and brocades.

 Against a stone wall, the lime wash applied decades ago now flaking, sits a slightly awkward looking piece of furniture, once a kitchen dresser, displaying blue and white chargers decorated with foliage and flying pheasants.
Now loaded with all manner of wicker and wire baskets, each over flowing with trimmings and embellishments from a time long gone, in hues a little less vibrant than the day they were first created.

Elements of decoratively carved stone and timber nestle amongst finely cast metals, pieces of art having travelled from far flung corners of the globe.

The juxtaposition between the hard and the soft, is a method  i use to influence my work...

A Room with a View...

In my head it is 1860 something, i live in a formidable stone house, built a couple of centuries earlier.
Situated on the edge of a great town, not too far in the distance the sea, a constant source of  inspiration...

Attached to the left wing of the house is a metal structure, with its chipped and crumbling stone floor, on which sit old creaking rattan chairs, the addition of plump faded linen cushions offer a comfortable place to sit.
Terracotta pots filled with lipstick red geraniums scent the air.

This is the room from where i create, large windows offering splendid views of the garden, with its ever changing light and mood, offering great swathes of inspiration.

Dwelling as i do in such a place, each new creative endeavor is never very far away...