text and image britt-arnhild
The three weeks vacation must have been a good one.
I am bursting with energy.
Creativity.
Jetlagged.
Busy at work.
Still my creativity is searching for something.
My studio is swept, ready.
Painting, beading, sculpturing, clay work, macrame, origami.
My fingers are itching to create, my mind swims in a waterfall of ideas.
When I am restored, fully rested, I often have this feeling. The egg shell is about to break, the last colour in the palette is found, the tones blend together in a perfect symphony.
After a while I put away all the artful ideas. I grab my camera.
I walk out into the garden.
Searching.
Listening.
Open ears.
Open eyes.
I find what I seek.
Or rather,
it finds me.
A dry Gertrude Jekyll poppy
has a tale to tell.
Back in the studio,
my art studio,
my blue
writing
den
I pick up my purple diary
my purple pen
and starts writing.
