My sister and niece visit from interstate about four times a year.
We try to squeeze an art play session in there in amongst the family events schedule.
We let loose.
We love our shared art-making.
We are all together, yet each working on our own piece.
We coast between silent absorption and chit-chatting or singing. Sometimes there’s a drama
when the picture ‘goes wrong’. We usually get through that, out the other side and sail to the land of art-making happiness.
My friend entices me into a fabric shop. I am on a different trajectory of busy-focus and lunch-hunger, but I allow myself to be diverted.
My friend asks if they have remnants. They do. I proceed to spend half an hour – or is it a week? – rummaging through remnant bags. The bags are organised according to colour.
textures and edges
I am a kid in a lolly shop. I am an artist in an art shop.
I am caught in a fabric fragment web
of divine daydreaming.
All else fades away.
It is a surprise Artist Date.
I think of the art-making potential. I love incorporating threads and tissues into paintages.
I think of my elderly art therapy client who