summer? what summer?

Labour Weekend.
We are supposed to be celebrating summer.
I thought a dip would be an appropriate way to honour my favourite time of the year. After all we usually start our swimming season mid-September.
So I squeezed myself into my good old swimsuit and rushed into those tempting waves.
I bravely tip-toed in, up to my ankles, a bit deeper, surprised by the impression of liquid ice lapping around my freshly shaved legs ...
Then, when my knees started to freeze solidly I suddenly remembered:
IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FUN.

I'll keep you posted. It won't be long. I hope.

Anna's shoes

Our daughter has always been very tall.
Some years ago, when she grew wildly tall and her feet eagerly followed, it became very difficult to find some nice, feminine shoes to accomodate her "flippers".
A major drama for a teenager, believe me.
So, when I visited Poland I found there a shoemaker, who crafted for me a pair of beautiful slippers, size thirteen.
This is what happened when I presented those shoes to my lovely Girl upon my return.

passion for fashion

Another Fashion Week has ended.
I've been around long enough to watch with amazement how this phenomenon of trends and tastes turns a full circle.

I've been TWICE through:
mini skirts, shift dresses, floor-lenght maxis, flared pants, leggings, gypsy skirts, frills and bows, distressed denim, jump suits, hideous, shiny, plastic boots, platforms, stilletoes, espadrilles, high-waisters, hipsters, polka-dot bikinis, back-combing, ponytails, enormous sunnies ... wow!

How come it all returned so quickly!?

Well, next time those trends are hot, I probably won't dare to have a go.

So, let's party, while we can.

Here is to passion for fashion!!!

Want to bet what's next on our fashion horizon?

Shoulder pads and floral pant suits. I know, I've checked in my attic.

Watch this space.

RECESSION - in a nutshell

As somebody has brilliantly put it: "When the tide goes out, you can see who's been swimming naked"

seeing red (convertible)

I have just a few friends. but they are fantastic.
Val is one of them, top of the list kind of a friend.
Whenever we go out together, to the movies, to see a show or for any other girls-night-out thing, Val insists on driving us there in her good, old Holden.

She is certainly a much better driver than yours truly, but ... she doesn't need to know that.

So, one day, as we were driving home from Mamma Mia show, I said:

 - Dear Val, when I'm finally rich and famous I'll pop you into my gorgeous red convertible, ( the latest model of course ), we will tie our wheelchairs neatly onto the back and we will go for a mad spin.

 - Dear Gabriella - said Val - by that time you will surely be able to afford JAMES to take care of our wheelchairs.

Which, of course, is true.

So, here is the vision, JAMES'n all.

P.S.

If my smile was looking this good, I certainly wouldn't be able to afford a convertible.

My dentist would.

another success story

Today just a picture.
It may seem funny, but actually it is not.
The obesity problem may be big, serious and well publicised, with plenty of professional outfits helping us to lose weight.

But then, on the other end of this scale, there is a difficult subject of extreme dieting. Just as dangerous as overeating, far less publicised, very difficult to treat. No words of wisdom from me though. Just a picture, "Another Success Story". But is it indeed?
Sorry Weight Watchers, nothing personal.

my birthday girl

My little girl turned 22 last week.

Hard to believe. I still remember ... well, you don't want to know.

Although, perhaps such an occasion is a good excuse to stick in here some of my illustrated memories of this lovely kid.

Teenage years, holiday jobs, tricky relationship with grandparents - my scrapbook with "ANNA" printed on it is large.
But for now - just a couple of pics from the time, when Anna wasn't a kid anymore, but the adulthood still seemed miles away.

P.S. She really is rather gorgeous. Don't be deceived by my cheeky pencil.

notes from a seminar

It was a great seminar, designed to boost our creativity.

Brilliant ideas, tons of interactive fun, loads of chocolate biscuits during intervals - the lot.

I could elaborate on this, but it wouldn't make an exciting blog entry, would it?

The LEGS on the other hand might do.

Yes, legs.

And here is the connection:

The seminar atmosphere was delightfully relaxed.

Dress code didn't apply.

Fair enough. For us, struggling artists, "haute couture" may as well not exist. Besides, creative use of op-shops is much more fun.

Likewise a formal sitting mode didn't apply either, thank God.

That's where we come to the LEGS part.

Due to my staring obsession, I had a time of my life observing my fellow students ... from the waist down, so to speak. The landscape beneath those table tops.

What do we actually do with our legs, while our bums are firmly planted in one place for a few hours? Does taking the shoes off or wrapping our limbs any which way around chair legs help us to concentrate? You bet.

Here, see the evidence above.

A word of caution here: all similarities to real participants of the seminar are not exactly truthful, certainly not intentional. So, please don't rush to the next Devonport seminar, looking for your favourite pair of pins.

And yes, we had a lot of fun during those three days, as I'm sure you can see.

But we also left with plenty of new ideas in our heads and plenty of notes (and sketches) in our diaries.

The only thing I can't remember in fact, is what MY legs were doing, tucked underneath the table for three days.

decisions and choices

Nobody likes them, and I'm no exception.

But here is what annoys me the most: after 20 plus years of illustrating I have piles of pictures.

Just like pencils, pictures are everywhere in this house.

Every now and then I hear about some establishment looking for freelancing illustrators to add them to its pool (more like waiting list). The requirement is to send five (!!!) of my best pieces, on basis of which I'd be judged, selected, discarded - whatever.

It makes me want to scream!

FIVE! Which five? What style? What topic? What medium? Why ONLY five?

My offers of turning up with my well trimmed and carefully selected portfolio are usually declined.

We are these days not represented by our names and faces. We have www. identities, easier to deal with, less biased, and non-personal. This is all apparently a time-saving strategy.

So how come I just spend the whole weekend scanning dozens upon dozens of my pictures into the computer?

Then I'll have to select the most suitable bits for a particular purpose (in my opinion) and email them in batches, waiting for each attachment to process. This is, of course, when I want to create a decent collection, which represents my skills. Not just five random images.

On the receiving end someone will have to spend a lot of time opening each batch, each image, only to discard 3/4 of the pictures as unsuitable for their publication style. This assuming, that this particular person won't run out of patience half way through the process of sorting out my offerings.

The alternative scenario could be pretty simple: a scheduled appointment, in person, portfolio in hand.

We finger through the decently filed stuff. This is OK, that we could use, while that over there is not our cup of tea.

Half an hour plus MY trip across town.

OK. Having vented my frustration I'm inclined to look at the positive side of virtual self-promotion. Come on, let's be fair. Read on:

- I'm saving on petrol.

- I can fiddle with my scanner till the cows come home, and until I make my pics look much better, than they really are.

- I can do all this work in the middle of a night, if I choose to spend the day shopping (what shopping?) or gossipping with my friends, if I still have any, considering my time-consuming affair with the computer.

- I can deal with those prominent people while wearing my pyjamas, with a beauty mask on my face, while a dye is turning my hair into a smashing shade of auburn.

- I can have my favourite music playing in the background, while a glass of wine waits, strategically positioned next to the keyboard.

Does the same apply to the recipient of my mail in his/hers executive office? Probably. Hence the popularity of this whole idea.

- And, of course, nobody is going to spill their coffee (hair dye? cigarette ash?) onto my original artwork.

- I also don't have to look at my "enemy's" disappointed face, if he happens to be disappointed

- I'm learning new stuff, borrowing tools which in fact belong to the next generation.

So, perhaps this digital communication isn't so bad after all?

The proverbial glass with only some liquid in it comes to mind ...

Speaking of which, the appropriate picture is right below.

As for the one next to the title - this is what I'm feeling like right now. Yes, it's getting dark outside. Time to harness my stallions and vent my technology-related frustration.

Who knows - I may come back convinced, that the glass is definitely half-full. That my illustrations actually look pretty good on the screen and my face feels nicely exfoliated.

Yes, it's all good.

sickness benefit ...

...is not what you might think it is, not in this case.

It is about looking east from the 9th floor of the North Shore Hospital window, on a cloudless spring morning.

Lake Pupuke, a green strip where Milford shake hands with Takapuna, then the sea melting into distant horizon, with misty islands competing for attention.

If you live around here, you know what I mean.

If you don't ... well, this is the stuff the dreams are made of.

That's the BENEFIT almost worth getting SICK for.

I'm not going to help you with a picture here, although it can make you feel a bit cheated.

Instead I'll take you inside the hospital room.

It is my 85-years old neighbour, who ended up here yesterday - Doreen.

A tiny Girl (I could probably lift her up with one hand), with a pretty big personality. Brave, gutsy, independent, certainly not a typical NICE old lady.

When you are 85, alone and every little task becomes a challenge, I guess your capacity for being nice gets somewhat diminished. You become a battler.

This doesn't change my admiration for Doreen, even though we have our share of arguments to our credit. And, I'm sure, we are not done yet.

But right now I left my neighbour there,on the 9th floor, equipped with her favourite Vogel bread, a jar of Marmite and those sea views to die for (excuse the punt) from her hospital window.

It doesn't get more Kiwi than that, does it?

Good on you Doreen.

Life may not always feel like your friend these days, but perhaps I can try to be one.

not much of anything

I don't really have time for writing right now, although a lot has happened today, not all of it good, and I'd love to make a note of it.

But, what I'm going to do instead is to try to stick here one of my favourite pictures.

It is a happy one, just what I need today.

And as for my visitors , I'm sure they can do with a smile too.

the door has been found

What a relief! All welcome.

On the mood monitor?

Here is another pic from my daughter's collection.

Yes it's me again, seen through the loving eyes of my Kid.

Mind you, since then I had some remedial dental work done, thank God.

And here is another reflection - technology.

We may dislike the invasion of computers into our lifes, but sooner or later we embrace it, simply because it makes the world so much more accessible. Hence the blogging!

Twenty years ago I happened to live and work in Libya for a while, in Tobruk. This was like living in a place so remote in terms of times and space, that we all had very little idea about the life on the ouside, in the civilised world.

In the whole city of Tobruk there was one single post, from which a few privileged people could access other coutries, communicate with distant families, be briefed on some urgent business matters.

This was the TELEX office. Does anybody even remember such "ancient" times, a bit more than 20 years ago?

Not to mention, that at that time the idea of a little video screen added to a telephone was a science-fiction stuff.

Well, all this certainly shows my age. But - who cares?

That's my lot for now. To be continued.

frustrating!!!

It certainly is!

I'm floating somewhere in this cyberspace with no address.

There is no door to my den for anybody, but me.

Why? I don't know, but I'm certainly going to find out. I guess being an illustrator I should give my frustration a visual equivalent.

And nothing will serve this purpose better, than a picture commited some years ago by my genius-of-a-daughter. Yes, it's me at my motherly best. Isn't my Kid sweet?

So long.

Hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to invite crowds to my creative space. Can't wait.

pencilcase

PENCILCASE is my house.


Pencils are everywhere, even in my bathroom.


Ordinary pencils, soft and hard, pastel pencils, watercolour pencils, you name it.


Brand new long things with sharp, inviting tips and humble blunt stubs approaching well deserved retirment.


Each of them is such a wonderful extension of my hand, each of them is my VOICE.

Hi, my name is Gabriella.

I'm an illustrator, suffering from an accute case of Pencilitis. In other words - I just can't stop drawing.

It's always been like that.

My school note-books were filled with little random illustrations, sharing pages with legitimate notes of a more academic nature.

It was a long time ago. But, although today there are so many new amazing tools, so many other ways to create images, a humble pencil still remains my best friend.

People - that's what fascinates me most.

It always amazes me how different we all are.

Comes to think about it, each of us is just an ensemble of four limbs and a head, all of which are held together by a pillow-like trunk in the middle.

Same goes for our head - an egg-shaped thing, fitted with eyes, nose, ears and mouth.

That's all there is to it.

Still, somehow, never in the entire history of human kind has the Nature repeated itself, by creating two identical people!

That's where I come in, with my pencil. Trying to crack this mystery of our "uniqueness", constantly wondering about those subtle differences, which make us - US.

So, I watch, stare, pay attention and ... get my pencil to work.