{watercolours: a first attempt}

Life with a toddler is colourful. Sometimes, it's a wash of warm pinks and yellows, spread across the blank page that was our life beforehand. And other times it's more of a frantic "if you try to drink that cloudy water you just washed your brush in one more time, that's the end of watercolour painting forever".

How true it is that the most joyful moments of parenting aren't the ones you plan. Laying out the paper, collecting the paint and brushes and water, imagining wonderful, peaceful hours of artistry together -- it guarantees nothing. Peaceful, our painting was not. I didn't picture so much splashing. Or so much time spent trying to squeeze a small hand into a smaller jar. Or such general wetness. (Surely, the 'water' in 'watercolour' would have warned me? Wouldn't a bucket of water alone have been just as much fun?) But it was wonderful, in a different way.

Rather than painting on the paper, Tilly loved painting on herself. And she loved painting spots (a.k.a. repeatedly banging her brush on the table). She also put these two together, and worked out that she could paint her own freckles.



Both Justin and I have quite freckly arms, and one of Tilly's favourite pass-times is poking those freckle, to which we're supposed to respond by pretending to be electrocuted (this game, if you hadn't guessed, was Justin's invention). Now, finally, with her watercolour-spotted arms, Tilly could join in all of the game. Shaking, convulsing, buzzing -- what good family fun!



So we raise our glasses -- or cloudy-water-filled jam jars -- to the fun that's to be found in mess and chaos and painting outside the box, outside the paper, outside of our plans. (But, no, don't drink that!)

{through the keyhole: into your house}

Over this holiday, we've stopped in to see many of you, family and friends. Perhaps you invited us in for a cup of tea. Perhaps you gave us lunch. Maybe you even let us stay a night (or ten). And now how are we going to thank you? By showing the world your secrets. Your stylish secrets.

Swing low, sweet Tilly! Our cousins, C & A, hung this giant swing from the centre of their playroom, and it was the perfect way to amuse a very energetic two-year-old, a curious Tilly, and a gobsmacked seven-month-old. The large mesh seat could happily hold two children, and looked much more comfortable than the wooden plank versions you usually see in edgy New York apartments (like these).

Again, there's something unusual hanging from the ceiling -- can you tell what it is? This was the dining room in the summerhouse where we stayed (or 'the Oasis' as our cousins, K & K called it), and ripe bunches of grapes dangled above our heads. As you can imagine, fresh fruit was always on the menu.



A stylish house of a smaller size! We spotted this playhouse in the garden at L & JP's housewarming party, and couldn't stop thinking about it. (On the DIY list? More like on the garage floor!)



Another idea from L & JP -- this sweet letter C is on the wall in their daughter's nursery. Unlike the usual painted or ModPodged wooden letters, this beauty was soft and stuffed and covered in fabric. If I can get over my initial dilemma (an 'M' for Matilda, or a 'T' for Tilly?), I'll have a go at making one myself.

And one more shot before we leave them alone... the white nursery, with a single red wall. Beautiful. (Ignore Tilly's slightly non-plussed expression -- she did like the colours, but was a little miffed to have been removed from a large stack of Dick Bruna books and popped into a cot with four other children, simply for the sake of us mothers taking a photo!)

Another red wall, this time at our cousins K & K's real home (as opposed to their summerhouse). I've got a thing for houses. For two years, while studying art, I only painted pictures of houses. This might have rekindled the obsession.

Ever been to someone's loo, and emerged with one of their paintings in your hand? This seaside piece, by St. Ives painter Susie Brooks, was hanging in our friend L's bathroom, and she kindly showed no signs of alarm when I came out holding it -- with clean hands, of course. What I love is that while the sea is painted, the land and houses are left white, simply outlined in black. Landscape painting gone modern?

Though her house is green green completely green, L added a red pepper to the salad to make us feel at home. (And Marimekko napkins for lunch -- the height of luxury!)

And last but not least, a quick shot from I & I (aka Mum and Dad), who have managed to squeeze a gigantic collection of Chinese ceramics into their new home in England. This set of Mao figurines, on top of a cupboard in the kitchen, brings back many happy memories of Dirt Market bargains.

Thanks to all of our wonderful hosts -- we have but a week left now in England before flying home. Tomorrow, we'll be celebrating my grandfather's 90th birthday, so stay tuned for a special party post. Pass the parcel for ninety-year-olds. It's going to be great!

{inspiration: large art for cheap}

Over the years, we've collected several pieces of art that we really love. As we've had to move every year, and have been on a small budget, almost everything has been 8x10" or smaller.

Now, looking for a way to fill our ginormous living room wall, our pint-size frames simply aren't cutting it. Still on a budget, though, and with giant paintings not coming cheap, I've decided to create the art myself. These are a few ideas, none of which I've committed to yet, which all look beautiful and make-it-yourself-able.

Colour Blocks via Apartment Therapy. Modern art, simply by framing layered pieces of paper. 

Striped Panels by 4 Men 1 Lady. Though the colours here aren't my cup of tea (a little too green tea), I'm imagining that in red, yellow and orange this would look rather Kate Spade.

Tandem Canvas via Apartment Therapy. What's cheaper than one giant canvas? Four small canvases hung next to each other. 

Abstract Tutorial by Oh Happy Day. I do love these, but I'm a little afraid it might look as if Tilly got hold of some oil pastels. Maybe I should give her some oil pastels (in a well-covered and confined area) and see what happens... 

Potato Print Dots by Oh Happy Day. This idea can actually be done with the kiddos -- potato prints and dots. Plus, she shares her secret of cheap framing.

Golden Mesa I by Sean Jacobs. This one isn't really a DIY-- it's an actual piece of art from World Market. But it looks easy, doesn't it. Deceptively easy? Probably.

Sun Shower by Today's Nest. A collage of droplets, which could be made it any colour scheme. I love the idea of using a bunch of different papers -- anything from birthday cards to junk mail could lend itself to this.

Four flowers via Decorno. This is my favourite right now, but again, not really a DIY, just art that I'm wondering if I could knock off. What is it -- framed paper? Canvas? I can't tell. But I love it, nonetheless.

Giant Portrait via Pinterest. Can I please live here, please? That giant portrait peeking through the doorway is just so clever. Can I make it? No. But look closer -- can you see the painting of a dog with a fish bowl for a head? It totally reminds me of Justin's birthday card to Tilly -- her head on a dog's body! We could paint that one, I think.

So, what do you think -- do any of these ideas seem do-able? Or perhaps you've got other ways of filling up giant walls that you'd like to share -- please do, we're all ears!

{inspiration: mug shot}

We so thoroughly enjoyed painting plates for our anniversary that I've been looking for more ways to get creative with old china. Everyone's got a plain white mug laying around somewhere (or, can pop to IKEA and get a couple very cheaply) -- these easy projects will quickly transform your bland cups into personalised pieces, full of character.

Gina's tutorial for cross-stitched mugs lets you monogram your morning mocha. I love that you could use any font (ahem, American Typewriter), any colour, and make a set for the whole family. 

Aesthetic Outburst's patterned mugs make doodling look chic. You can draw a line, a circle, a triangle, I know you can!

BaileyDoesn'tBark's Teabag Mug couldn't be simpler. The bag sits inside, while the tag hangs outside the mug, and could even be personalised with a name or a little heart.



Sweet Sweet Life's face cups are all lined up to be our next anniversary project. A little better groomed than Beardy, Mr. Moustache seems to yearn for a nice hot cup of Earl Grey. And, of course, that's Lady Grey next to him!

BaileyDoesn'tBark's Postcups let you write a message -- a 'wish you were here', perhaps, or a favourite quote about tea. Plus, if it ever gets misplaced, the return address will be right there on the cup!

P.S. The lovely Dutch-British couple, Jadyn and Ben, who share our wedding anniversary, also got up to a bit of plate painting of their own back in June. Check out the brilliant results here.

colour therapy

Days are long at the moment, and too often the temptation is to simply fall down at the end of the day and bask in inactivity and slob-dom. But when I spotted this beautiful colour theory project that Merrilee had used to make Valentine's cards from, all that red gave me a giant burst of energy.

My version was not-for-cuts, on a big-kid sized piece of watercolour paper.

I started out with a test sheet, to make sure that I could manage to draw straight lines, and liked the colours I'd picked... good job I did practice, as it ended up looking rather like a sample of Eighties' lipsticks. Orange you glad orange isn't still in fashion? 

(Note: after a brief Google search, it seems orange lipstick is slated to be the big thing for Spring 2011. Shows what I know about fashion)

Moving onto the real deal, I drew up a grid in pencil, making each square 1x1".




And then the colours started to appear.

At first I found myself over-thinking it, and imposing rules on myself: no two adjacent squares of the same colour, not more than two orange squares per row, not more pinks than reds, and on and on. 

It became rather much more enjoyable when, fifty or sixty squares in, I thought "sod that" and started to feel the colours. Well, that and I started to slop so much paint onto the brush that it tended to drip into another square before I reached the one I was going for.

Repeat after me: "Free your paintbrush, free your mind."

There really was some kind of perverse satisfaction in letting the paint ooze out of those tidy little squares, in seeing the splatter, in getting paint on our table in allowing mess.



Definitely a satisfying way to spend an evening, and even more exciting, when I woke up this morning all of the paints had dried into completely different colours -- better colours, in my opinion.

Now it's pegged up in the living room -- a reminder of the energy that colour can summon up, even on the long days.

Adventures with a Can of Chalkboard Paint, Part III

For some reason, I find that things taste better when eaten out of a glass jar.

And with just a little chalkboard paint, and a scrap of pretty paper, it's quite easy to disguise the fact that these are, in fact, old pasta-sauce containers.

For instructions on painting the labels onto the jars, try this tutorial. I would advise starting with recycled jars like these, rather than buying new jars specially for it, so that if something goes wrong it doesn't matter too much.

And for instructions on covering the lids, have a look here.

And don't limit yourself to food! I also plan to have jars for buttons, pompoms, and for all the bits and bobs to make my Christmas wall tree. And Justin has requested a jar to store nails and screws, and one for all the spare change he piles up around the house.

As always, if you have a go yourself, please post a link, as we'd all love to see!

Adventures with a Can of Chalkboard Paint

Justin and I have recently fallen in love with this fancy kind of apple juice. Yes, yes, the pure-juice, good-for-you thing is nice, but what we really love is the glass bottle. It reminds us of moonshine.

So, once we'd drunk all the juice, I couldn't bring myself to throw the bottle away... and after a good soak, a bit of a scrub, and two coats of chalkboard paint, we've got a funny little jug for all those home-made drinks I always mean to make.

One of our autumn favourites is Lylabeth's cinnamon lemonade -- so simple to make, just add two sticks of cinnamon to store-bought or home-made lemonade, and let it sit for an hour or two.

Cheers to falling leaves, and the put-on-your-slippers chill!

Fox Riding and Other Hobbies

Yesterday, I stumbled upon Mareika Auer's artwork (above) for the first time.

And maybe it's because I'm completely hooked on Mad Men at the moment, or because I love that kind of Aimee Bender alternate world of equal parts weirdness and humour, but I can't seem to get that man on a fox out of my head!

I think it's because their poses are so lifelike... the way he sits on that fox, with his knees forward so his feet don't drag, just mixes the fantastical with the normalcy so perfectly!

But Mareika isn't all about the animals (although her animal prints might be my favourites... check out her print of business men walking different animals)...

This man is knitting his hair! It makes me so happy I could cry, not just because he looks so sweet, all cross-legged, but because the knitting, of course, has to be RED! I think Mareika went to the same school of Art Theory as me... without that red element, it just wouldn't be the same.

One more:

Gnomes! Well, really I sort of love it because they all look like Nisse men (which are the little Christmas elves that the Danes credit with present-giving, and who were always a big presence in our house at Christmas time). And I love them because you can SEE their personalities! What a character in the middle!

Mareika is selling prints of these, and if I can get around to working out how much, exactly, a Euro is, then I might think about spluringing. How often do you see something that makes you that happy and inspired? Rarely. The only problem, if I may be so bold, is that there are actually TOO MANY prints that I love... :)

Thanks, Mareika, for brightening my week. The world needs more business men riding foxes.