{where words once were}

While giving our Mormor tree a much needed drink of water today, I saw that the fabric hearts I hung had changed colour in the sun. The papers on which we wrote messages to Mormor were still safe in their pockets, but, magically, the ink had vanished.

Surely, when words disappear from our world, they appear in the next.

I like to imagine that as each letter I wrote faded over the summer, bleached by the Texas sun, the message grew clearer and darker and more defined somewhere else, somewhere Mormor is able to read it.

(Read about the meaning of our hearts here, and see how to make your own hearts here)

{photos of paint in various stages of drying}

Today you're going to get a little peek behind the scenes at Red Red. Glamour, this is not. It's the every day, bit-by-bit process of creating, whenever I can fit it in.

This is me painting a white canvas white. Seriously. Someone once told me that canvases should always be painted white first. I can't remember who, I can't remember why. But as the laundry sat unfolded, the dishwasher sat unloaded, and the baby lay sleeping, I painted a white canvas white. It was sort of zen, in a mindless-task-that-has-no-practical-value sort of way.

This is a sketch. A half-hearted, I-can't-be-bothered-to-fill-it-all-in sort of drawing. Recognise it? It's that four dandelion piece of art (from our large art round-up).

This is paint. My artistic friend, Whitney, who has a background in decorative painting, is mixing up a nice shade using colours from her own walls. Check out the toe-decoration -- and she didn't even know her feet were going to be on camera.

And here's me, slapping it on, crissing and crossing and trying not to listen to the perfectionist in my head. Good job you can't see my toes. I'd be like the Ugly Step-Sister of feet.

The base colour done, I then played around with slightly different shades on top -- a layer of the base colour with more white, a layer of the base colour with less white. The bottom layer wasn't quite dry, it turned out, when I started adding new layers, so I got an interesting texture where the half-dry paint below got pulled along with the brush. I meant to do that. Ahem. Not. 

A little darker in the corners, a little lighter in the centre. According to Whitney, this is how multi-millionaires like their walls painted. Ooh la la.

(P.S. By the way, there are three unseen --but very present!-- children in the background, and at all times, one of us was fending off Tilly, who was determined to step in the paint...)

Not wanting to have too much of the pulled-off-paint texture, I'm giving the background a good twenty-four hours to dry before adding the dandelions. But, in preparation, I cut the approximate shapes of the flower heads out of paper towels...

...and taped them to the canvas. (There's no artistic reason for using paper towels -- I was just in the kitchen, and they were handy)

Just like the masters did it. Everyone knows Van Gogh stuck paper towel sunflowers to his canvases before painting...

And I'm sure good ol' Vincent held up his iPhone pic of the art he was copying to check the placement of said sunflowers, too.

Stay tuned! Tomorrow, when it's all dry dry completely dry, I'll add the flowers. 

{from my heart to yours: a tutorial}

Thanks so much to all of you who shared kind words, compassion, and your own stories with me last week. I don't think my inbox has ever been so full of strength and community. Thank you. Welcome, too, to new readers stopping by from CraftGossip and Ladies in Waiting -- it's been a pleasure connecting with you all.

We love to look out of the window, see the bright hearts, and be reminded of Mormor. I like to imagine her looking down from her cloud, scanning Texas, and the hearts catching her eye and showing her where to find us. As the little hearts we hung on our tree seemed to resonate with so many people, I'm going to show you, quickly, how to make them. 

Materials: 

a scrap of fabric, approximately 10" square

stuffing

needle and thread

paper

6" piece of ribbon

sewing machine (optional)

Begin by drawing a heart template on to paper. I find that I usually draw too small, and almost always go around the original adding a 1/4" extra. Cut out your template, and use it to cut two hearts out of your chosen fabric.

Cut a small square, with edges of approximately 2", out of the fabric. This will be your pocket for the front.

Fold the edges of the pocket 1/4" to the wrong side. Iron them to hold the fold.

Sew along the top edge of the pocket (I prefer hand-stitching, but you can use a sewing machine for all of this, if you like). If you want to decorate your pocket, by adding buttons or embroidery, do that now.

Place the pocket in the centre of one of your hearts, both right sides facing up. Pin in place, and sew around the three remaining sides, attaching the pocket to the heart.

Stack the two hearts together, right sides together, so that the pocket is sandwiched in the middle. Place your ribbon between the hearts, so that it forms a loop, with the ends sticking out at the top. 

Sew around the edges, leaving a 3" gap for turning.

Turn your heart inside out, and fill with stuffing. Sew up the gap.

To add messages, we simply cut thin strips of paper, 1" wide and 6" long. For us, what seemed best was writing down the things we would have like to be able to say to Mormor. You could also fill you hearts with favourite memories, prayers, quotations, small instant photographs, favourite sweets or flowers.

Thanks again for sharing your lives with me over the week. For those of you who will be creating your own tree of hearts, I hope it brings you comfort and peace. xx

{to predict the future}

In the last few weeks, I've been getting down to business with writing my book -- which, if you missed my brief teaser before, is a journal for the creative mother and baby's first year. Though it has meant barely a moment of rest recently, what a wonderful feeling to make such progress.

Rather than rest, though, I've been trying to incorporate moments of fun into the book, and to thank for your patience lately, here's a glimpse. Mothers and fathers, fret no longer, for there need be no more uncertainty about the future!

P.S. According my oh-so-scientific calculations, Tilly will be a future police officer. Justin will be oh-so-happy to have someone to share his weekend doughnuts with!

My Creative Year

2010 has been a handmade year like no other.

January was spent patiently knitting for unborn Tilly, on needles so small that the blanket took ten months to finish.

In February, Wodger and Wupert Wabbit -- the original Travelling Tillberries -- were sewn, though Wodger unfortunately disappeared into the mystery of the Chinese postal system.

In March, I made my first quilt. I discovered Lotta's "Simple Sewing for Baby" in April.

May and June saw me desperately stuffing foxes and hand-stitching tea cups during the eight weeks of any-day-now Tilly panic.

July was a month of simply creating ourselves as a family of three.

In August, there were many nights of cutting out felt letters.

September, scarily, was when all of the Christmas presents were started, which continued through October.

My Mum's visit in November threw creativity into overdrive -- cardigan knitting, apron embroidery, cross-stitched ornaments, and the lid of the infamous can of blackboard paint was popped.

And December's proudest achievement was the advent tea wreath, a tradition I hope we'll continue for many years to come!

What have you enjoyed creating this year? Let's hope that 2011 is just as full of inspiration!

Back to Normal

Back to normal means we're cooking for ourselves. Back to normal means we're planning to leave the house, all together. Back to normal means I've no excuse not to get out of my pyjamas all day.

Back to normal also means taking down the beautiful cards for Tilly that have taken over our living room, and starting to put together a book of memories from her first month.

Back to normal means feeling creative again.

Back to normal means pulling out the piles of papers, the paper cutter, the mementoes from the hospital and from the pregnancy, and printing photo after photo. (The fact that Tilly's first two weeks were spent in the company of a whole family taking a photo a day means I've got plenty of material!)

Back to normal also means pins and fabric scraps on the couch, because, of course, one thing on the go is never enough!

Back to normal means feeling the urge to make, make, make, and though there may be less time in the day for sewing and memory-keeping, the time that I do find has become even more sacred, as if I need to condense all the joy I got from four hours of stitching into forty-five minutes.

When I Grow Up...

I often have to remind myself that being creative is too important to leave for another day. It's so easy for work and chores and spending time with the husband to take up a whole day, and then a whole week, and the crafting be shoved aside.

So, here are a few lovely things that remind me to make time for creating:

This one always makes me think of birthdays, with the party hat, apron for cake baking, and the string of red hearts ready to be hung. Birthdays were always such a special day when I was growing up, and I love to be a bit over the top about them still!

And this one makes me think back to our wedding, with the Chinese-style paper cut (we got married in Beijing), and the mixture of red and pink (our wedding colours). That was definitely the most beautiful day of my life (thanks mostly to my Mum!) and I try to bring a bit of that into our every day lives.

And Mrs. Birdie with her two chicks reminds me of all the wonderful ways I can pass the creativity onto the new baby. Red gingham, just like the little chicks' scarves, will definitely be a feature of baby's wardrobe!

Hope you're having a lovely weekend!