House of Dreams

I was asked to create this piece for a book focusing on art therapy, specifically using art as a tool in your own emotional arsenal--to grow, to understand yourself better.
The assignment was to create a piece of art representing the house I dreamed of living in when I was a child. I was always obsessed with that multi-pod house the Barbapapas lived in--you know the one I mean? Was that cool, or what?
I also spent hours of my girlhood drawing "open houses," sort of doll-house-style buildings with open fronts, so you could see all that went on inside, and I'd imagine scads of orphans living together in these stacked rooms, with just enough space for their bits and pieces. I think this hoop represents all this--my cartoon envy, my fascination with doll houses and orphans and all things compact and modular. Primarily, I think it's "a house that can hold all the people," a home with a nook for each of us. Cozy. Communal. Truly a house of dreams.

Report from a Sunny Planet (a.k.a. "My House")

I woke this morning to find Annabelle organizing my fabric cupboard. She's taken a break for breakfast, and let's hope a full belly doesn't dampen her interest in the project. The dog is currently sniffing these piles with great interest.
Here's what I'm working on in the sunny, morning studio.
Please slow down, summer. I have a little crush on you.

Finally--Some Felt Whosies

I know I said no kvetching, but this dear woman has been beyond patient--we're talking candidate for sainthood here, folks.
I only hope that when she gets this felty family in the mail, she feels it was worth the wait.
She made some excellent looking kids--all I had to do was try to approximate her work. ;-)

One Boy's Forest

For the last several days, I have been at work on this bit of woodsy heaven for a special little guy.
Mostly I just get to make felty dogs and kitties, which I love to do, but Meg has given me the chance to make some other critters, and I had great fun making those curly little ferns, too.
Doesn't Finn look peaceful with his pal?

(Now I'm on to a very patient friend's portrait. She hasn't kvetched a bit after having won the prize weeks and weeks ago!)

Wee House with Roof Garden

Here's Annabelle's newest edition to the little city in our dining room. I'm ready to move in. How about you?

Little City--and a Reverie

Yes, Emily (Dickinson, that is)--bees are few. And so is sunshine. June was a total wash--literally, and July (despite a still semi-damp refrain from thundering downpours this morning) is looking like more of the same, so far. But your poem--and making "Reverie" for Abby's Make-Along--has helped to remind me of the power of the imagination.
This dreamy girl and I are both imagining the prairie--in full sunlight.
And Annabelle and I, meanwhile--with our eyes open (no using scissors and such with closed eyes, please) are doing a little city planning in the corner of the dining room. We taped off the city walls--
--and got right to work on the town swimming pool--
--which is where we will head (real-world-wise) as soon as nature gets on board.

Soggy but Still Rockin'

Rain's back. I know it's boring, but I have to join my fellow P-town, Maine bloggers--this one and this one--in lamenting this blasted wet spell but in expressing a little half-hearted gratitude, too, for the gifts the rain brings.
At the very least, the decreased mobility gives me more time to make sunny feltscapes. And today I have created, quite possibly, the perfect Pandora station--"Time After Time" is the seed. Go ahead, try it. If you think you can handle the circa-1985 awesomeness. And I know you can, cause you're my peeps.