The nameplates arrived for the Rocoloco yesterday. Seriously tiny - not much more than five mil long. Stunning. For more details of how to get something similar, slide over to Steve Fulljames's link to your right and follow through to his Narrow Planet icon.
And now totally off subject: In case you missed it I moved house back in August and mostly due to internal work upstairs and the rotten weather we only got out in the garden to do a little GBH to all the overgrown stuff on Sunday, though most of this was sitting in the sun with a glass of wine. We'd worked out that there was a hell of a jungle at the end of the plot and if we could clear it then we would gain about six feet more garden, so we set to work. Half buried was one of those dustbins with the chimney, still full of semi burnt garden rubbish. Mrs F upended it. then called me over. 'Wow! Check this out.'
At the bottom was about half a bin liner full of drawings... special drawings... This threw up a lot of questions. How long had they been there? At least eight months and they'd suffered a bit with the wet.. Who put them there? The little old lady who we bought the house from, or her husband who has been dead nearly two years? Or someone who helped clean the house out? Who ever it was wanted them burnt. Then there is the question of who produced them. The quality is good, but the subject matter is graphic and misogynistic in the extreme (the one below is one of the tamer selections). One would assume the late husband was the artist. Then you have to consider that he was a retired postman and she a retired art teacher. Him, her, both? Along with the finished sketches there are magazine pages mainly from the 1980s showing catwalk models. The limbs have been re-drawn in different poses in biro as if practising - these are not quick pervy drawings this is studiously practised stuff with a pretty good grasp of anatomical drawing techniques. But linking it with the octogenarian lady that we met is a bit weird.
No comments:
Post a Comment