Fifi Verses the World

Steamy Affairs

2012-01-30T12:05:00.001+13:45

So, I’ve joined a writers group. It was by accident really;I just thought I was going to lunch with a new literary friend, but now find Iam signed up for monthly critiques and in depth analysis of my work. Apparentlyit’s not all about drinking copious quantities of wine and gossiping- that’s abookclub. Darn.

I have my reservations about all of this- and it’s nothing todo with the people. They are wonderful and talented and generous with ideas. It’sme. I haven’t written anything approaching a body of work since...oh... my lastnovel, Glory, which was published in 2009; I wrote it in 2007. That’s basically,well you do the math, subtraction was never my strong point- I only add stuffto my life. Which I have done cheerfully for the last few years; Wearable Art,working on TV and in the film industry, illustrating, running workshops...butadd another word to my novel(s). Well that’s a bit of a problem.

I had a long discussion about this with Brian Falkner andKyle Mewburn at the recent Bloom Family Festival where we were contracted totell stories and run workshops. It was a very happy weekend with fellowwriters, artists and of course our audiences. I shared accommodation with theboys and was most impressed to see Brian tapping away at his Macbook eachmorning before we forayed out to the festival. He was finishing his next work;I was just trying to wake up and smell the coffee.

‘Why?’ I said, ‘can’t I just finish my sodding novel?’

‘Do you like what you are writing?’ they said.

‘Yes- I think it has legs and backbones to boot.’

‘So how did you write the other ones?’ they asked.

‘I just sat down and wrote them.’

And I did- Verity’s Truth was for a competition with adeadline. Janie Olive was as a distraction from the thesis script I was writingwhilst doing my MA at the IIML, and Glory just because I could and hadsomething to say out loud about not winning prizes. None of them took me thatlong and I had so much fun bashing away with two fingers at my keyboard, delightingmyself with words and fitting all the parts of the plot puzzle together.

‘So what’s different with this one?’ they said.

‘I’ve shown it to people before it’s done.’

‘Ah,’ said Brian, ‘in the words of Stephen King, in his book On Writing, you’ve let the steam out.’

And that is exactly what I’ve done. I’ve committed thecardinal sin of showing too many people the WIP and asking for their opinions.And they, being wonderful and generous and knowledgeable, have given them.Shit- what an idiot! I now have not one, but two unfinished first drafts withlots of conflicting sticky notes and pencilled comments. And I know better thanthat. Really.

In all my other work practice- making wearable art,illustrating a book, designing a workshop, making crafts for TV...I NEVER showmy rough ideas to others for comment. There are two reasons for this:

The first is that theymight not understand what I’m trying to do before the problem solving is doneand give unwanted advice from their perspective on how it should go. Forinstance, if I’m trying to make a piece of wearable art that says somethingabout, oh let’s say... Arthritis (I’m not by the way), then I may have a reallife experience of it that is different from another person’s. The thing I wantto impart about it and the expression of that view (down to the materials andmethod used to make the artwork) will be different in my cerebral cortex thanany other artist’s. If I ask for adviceon an unfinished plan, I’ll get helpful suggestions on what to show, what tosay and what technique to employ- from SOMEONE ELSE’s experience. That’s nogood to me at all- it will confuse me and make me doubt my conviction. This isvery different from asking someone how to do resin casting so I can make thebone centrepiece that I’ve designed (and I haven’t ...once again, this is not areal piece I am making. This year I’m doing a Bizarre Bra which has nothing to dowith aching limbs- aching fingers whilst I make it perhaps...). I only need structural help when I’ve made the creative plan.This is what an editor will do for a manuscript ... are you reading this Penny?(my beloved Scholastic editor).

The second reason for not showing your undies before you’vegot dressed so to speak, is that you lose the excitement of knowing you havesomething that is only known to you. It’s your sly secret; your guiltypleasure, an affair with a whole world and bunch of characters that only YOUknow about. It’s your illicit lover, to which you’ll go back late at night wheneveryone is asleep and you’ll play with each other and dream impossible thingsthat ordinary life doesn’t allow. You won’t leave it alone until the passionhas run its course; the first draft at least will be finished.

And as Brian said whilst his fingers stroked thekeyboard, a naughty smile on his face (yes I was watching Brian!), I’ve let thesteam out. The passion and the thrill has gone and I don’t know how to get itback... I’m stuck with the predictability of everyday life whilst my writing museis off shagging someone else’s brain and making them uber productive and on theway to writerly fame (Kyle Mewburn, that will be you). Apologies for the overlysexual nature of these analogies, but without passion all art is merely inoffensivewallpaper- and I DO have a bodice ripper I’m working on as well as a YA.

So, at our writer’s group meeting, we said what we’d likehelp with and what we would share and how long critiques would be etc etc. Ideclared that I would NOT be sharing anything and didn’t want critiques (theones we had at the IIML nearly scarred me for life). But I DID want the groupto hold me to account regarding finishing the YA at least. I gave them fullpermission to beat me with my own pages if I have not progressed from onemeeting to the next. They cheerfully agreed.

Holy moley, I’d better start writing, or the next time yousee me I’ll be covered in paper cuts.

Blanket Man, I owe you...

2012-01-16T12:06:00.000+13:45

photo from www.stuff.co.nz

Yesterday Blanket Man died. Ben Hana was a well knownWellington icon; I’m not going to write about his life. You can read about himhere and here. I passed him often on the street and we always shared a mutualnod of gidday, kia ora, how’s it goin? He really enraged some people- thosethat don’t like the streets littered with anything other than designer brandsand successful people. But he never bothered me... because he never begged.

When I first became aware of Blanket Man, we had justreturned from nearly 2 years living in Bristol. The streets of English citiesare lined with beggars; mostly under the ATMs. They sleep there in blue, purpleand red Asda sleeping bags, waiting for you to get your early morning cash andask you for some. They approach you in train stations, London tubes, streetcorners and, well anywhere you might have change jangling in your pockets. Theyare all suffering from the particular poverty caused by drug and alcohol abuse.The money you give them won’t go to pay the rent or buy food for the child someof them drag along with them. It will go straight down their throats, up theirnoses or into their veins. After the first assault on your social senses you soonbecome immune and cease to notice them. So coming back to Wellington I wasshocked to see beggars on the street, where buskers used to play. I thought ‘Thisis a joke right? they are pretending to beg and any minute now a candid camerastyle crew will leap out and say ‘Haha!’ as I try and avoid the entreaties ofthe man or woman in front of me asking for a dollar. Where the heck did theycome from? And what happened to their welfare benefit?

The old days of alcoholics sitting down at Cabbage Patch Corner orin Pigeon Park sharing a happy flagon of sherry and slurring amongst themselveshas now gone it seems. Now they feel the need to ask for money. Is this a markof the recession? Or did they Google theircontemporaries in the U.K and take a few tips? Either way I do not supportbegging in any form where there is (barely) adequate state assistance. Whichbrings me back to Blanket Man. He never asked for anything but a smile or anod. My daughter waitressed at Nicolini’s Italian Restaurant for 4 years onCourtenay Place and said he always paid for his meal, ate it on the street andreturned the plate when finished. You might ask why he didn’t cook for himself?I ask you, where would he keep his pantry store? Not in his pants. He neverwore any!

At the same time as returning from Bristol, I had beenaccepted into the IIML to do a MA in Scriptwriting. I was incredibly excited tobe accepted into a select group of ten masters’ students and set about figuringout what my thesis script would be about. Suddenly any creative inclinations scarperedfrom my brain like unruly terriers off after rabbits; they didn’t bring any back thoughand I was left panicking. Each morning I would catch the bus into town, walk upto Uni bereft of ideas, nodding to Blanket Man on the way andwondering who he was and why he was dressed in a loin cloth, saying nothing,smiling at the sun and the passersby. He seemed so at ease with himself and theworld around him. No begging bowl, no sign imploring charity; the only handoutstretched was to wave. I thought in another setting he’d look like aTohunga. I called him The Chief in my mind and played with the idea that hewasn’t really a homeless person at all, but someone from a different realmkeeping an eye on us and influencing outcomes where help was needed.

Then one day I wrote these words:

A figure wrapped in a blanket materialises on a park bench.As Becka passes, the blanket twitches. C/U on a rheumy old eye opening andgazing after Becka.

I had it! I had my thesis idea, Wild Cards, a kid’s TV drama was on its way. I finished it, got a Merit pass, wore a capping gown and morter board and have sinceplayed with turning the whole script into a novel. I think it has legs, and when I think ofthe Chief in my story, I always see Ben Hana his own legs crossed and hold outmy hand in thanks. I didn’t give him anything at all, but he gave me heaps.

Blooming heck- it's 2012!

2012-01-11T23:19:00.001+13:45

Back to work this week.... for my SO this has been a veryphysical thing. He had to get up when the alarm rang at 7am, drag himself tothe shower and put on suitable clothing for going to an office. He left thehouse at 8.15am when I was still slapping myself around the face to try andwake up. I contemplated going back to bed the minute he had left the buildingbut that seemed like too much of an act of no solidarity. I drank coffee in mylounging pyjamas until 10am instead- at least I was semi conscious. The catmight disagree; I noticed he’d knocked his bag of biscuits to the floor andhelped himself. Breakfast was obviously not fast enough for him.

Freelancing is a very different way of working and I have beenused to years of frantic deadlines up until Christmas Eve and then nothing untilmid February- when the salaried workers have finally shuffled enough paper toprepare briefs and deadlines for the following year. I’m under no illusions aboutthe productivity of an office in the weeks before Waitangi Day. Everyone is thinkingabout the summer break they had (or didn’t have because of flooding at theircamping spot), the BBQ’s still to be had (with good weather finally kicking in)and the ever present needs of children still on holiday (unless you are the CEO of a City Council that is...sorry to cast aspersions Tony). They are there in body but minds have yet to catch up and throw themselves into unwilling craniums. It's the Stepford time of summer, and everyone's a robot in the workplace.

For years I’ve been grateful for the lack of commissions over thelatter part of January. It's allowed endless holiday time (unpaid of course) in whichto potter about, read, go to movies with the kids, dig about in the garden andforay to the beach, weather permitting. Jan 9^th to Feb 7^thwas the caregiver’s dream instead of the working mother’s nightmare. It hasalso created a Pavlovian reaction in me to the extent that I find myself onJanuary 11^th unable to drag myself back to my workstation for anythingother than Facebooking, Googling why my Android phone won’t download appsanymore (oh the hours I can waste with this one!) and looking up recipes forgreat salads (we have a lot of courgettes and spinach coming on...)

This wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have things to do-namely finish illustrations for an educational reader, start pencil roughs fora picture book and create finished collages for an iPad app. This isapart from two entries for Wearable Art I have planned and the ever presentnovel I owe it to my conscience to finish writing. I feel terribly guilty atnot doing anything more productive than helping my daughter sort through herstuff to sell before moving to another city and giving my son a lift toBunnings to buy wood for a project he’s building at his flat. I SHOULD be intoit, raring to go and leaping into action. I SHOULD be planning my year and howI’m going to take over the world Fifi style. I SHOULD be reading worthy booksto feed the literary part of my mind. I SHOULD be pounding away at thekeyboard, writing something other than this post and creating enormous successfor my future. I WAS supposed to do a hot air balloon ride this year asresearch for that bit of writing...

But actually, when I read the last line of Harriet’s blog, “Life can change in an instant so appreciate everyone, who knows what is around the corner?” the wise words of my friend’sbeautiful 18 year old daughter dealing with cancer, I realised that what I’mdoing right now is fine; spending time with my family and nibbling around theedges of work. I’ll get it done- I’m good at reaching deadlines; I pride myselfon it.

I’ll finish writing the novel,if I finish writing the novel. It won’t change anyone’s life except my own if Ido or if I don’t. And even then not by much. I might even biff it off the harddrive and free up some bytes for more blogs!

This year I’m not going to try sohard. It’s exhausting and I much prefer to let things percolate and haveserendipity take its course. If I had a clear plan with goals and milestones andknew what I was going to be doing by September, I’ll be bored by March. Besides,as Harriet says...

In the meantime, come and lazewith me at the Bloom Festival in Matakana Jan 20-22nd. I’ll be telling storiesand running workshops along with a huge bunch of wonderful performers in art, writing and music.The perfect filler upper before work really starts for the year- enjoying the summer and the fact you don’t reallyhave to do anything much with your brain right now except soak up some creativenourishment so you too can sprout this year. Bloom and grow, bloom and grow...

Pants

2011-12-26T22:39:00.000+13:45

Today along with the rest of Wellington, I did what isnormal when confronted with the calmest and sunniest of days in our oftinclement capital; I drove straight into town and hit the Boxing Day sales. Itwas a bun fight I tell you and my particular mission was to cover my own bunswith half price pants. To ensure I had the best advice on what suited me, Itook my adult daughter, a veritable savant for clothing. I also took my cash because she gets terribly hungry shopping; I blame that on her earlyexperiences as an enfant, when in new mother desperation to get out of thehouse I would load her into a buggy and push her up to Merivale Mall where wewould start with coffee and a bite to eat and end up in Quinns. When theFebruary quake hit Christchurch, we both wept to see those devastating picturesof shoe boxes hanging out of the establishments exposed second floor...

“I’m after shorts” I declared, “something for our holidaynext week, sort of mid length cargo kind of things.”

“Hmmm” replied the Knowledgeable one, “I’ve never reallyliked you in those.” I’ve worn this sort of thing camping for about 20 yearsnow, so this was news to me. How long have I embarrassed her with my comfystrides? Two decades apparently.

We started with the obvious, Glassons where I have boughtall my previous shorts. I looked around but all I could see were tiny littlefrayed things that required much bikini waxing and labial tuck surgery. Some ofthem went up to size 16 which had me quite alarmed at the images that crowdedinto my head. Camel’s foot and all the humps. Luckily there was a pile oflonger style shorts which the Savant delightedly assured me were the favouredstyle of cruise ship tourists. I ignored her and tried on 4 pairs, some withturn ups, some without. They all ended above my knees which end shortly abovemy ankles- height not being a terribly strong feature of my family’s geneticcode. I looked quite like one of The Hobbit Dwarves on a hiking holiday.

Kathmandu had an extra 20% off everything that was discounted by 50%. That made pants a mere $78for something that didn’t fit either. “These are fricken boring” said theSavant, “let’s get some cake.” Their pattern cutters work with leggy Norwegianbackpackers for a template. As I am a)miserly and b) not called Astrid, we went on our way.

The cake shops were shut and I was surprised that a 23 yearold can sigh just as long as she did as a tot on retail excursions; especiallywhen we went into Max. At first it looked promising; racks of long shorts, orwas it short pants? I gathered up an armful and headed off to the changingroom. There were a few waiting before me and we patiently stood garments inhand. It was good practice for the shower queue at the camping ground. What DOpeople do in those cubicles? Are they wearing enormously complex supportundergarments that require much lacing, or maybe they are Libran with thedecision making ability of a jellyfish. Many foot tappings later (and moresighs from the daughter) I was in and out of the changing room in under aminute. It doesn’t take THAT long to realise something doesn’t fit- the minuteit won’t pull up over your calf muscle or do up at the waist, or shows far toomuch bra indentation, it’s a given that you won’t be thinking ‘Maybe...’ If youdo, you have far too much disposable income. Give it to me; I’ll invest it in shoesfrom I Love Paris.

I won’t go into the detail of every shop and pair of shortsI tried on. We could be here for hours. I certainly was. The last pair I triedon was no better than the first. I wanted cargo pants; they were pedal pushers.They were designed to forbid my knees from ever cycling again. Wide at the hip,skinny in the leg; like miniature rugby goal posts, making me feel like a frontrow prop trying thrash my way into them. My hand wandered towards another pairon the rack.

“No!” barked the Savant “they are menopausal green!” Iwithdrew my fingers from the sap coloured fabric as she muttered about ‘Womenof a Certain Age’ and their predilection for top stitched shoes and ghastly Hulkclothing. To lighten the mood I picked up a pair of white Capri pants andsuggested I buy them. Over the years we have shared many snickers about thesuitability of white to cover one’s derriere. The possibility of VPL, flowerprint knicker show through and the ever present threat of menstrual catastrophehas meant that we have restricted (in our heads) white pants to pre-pubescent andpost menopausal women. Therefore, when we see someone of an age between thatband wearing them, we share a disapproving moment. It bonds us and smooths overany differences in opinion on any other topic at hand.

“Oh God Mum, you are a good ten years away from those and thenyou’d have to holiday in Majorca in them,” she said rather too loudly for the Yorkshirewoman in white capris standing next to us.

We tried one more shop, Jay Jay’s. There was nothing for methere at all, but the Savant tried on three pairs of cute little vaguelyvintage numbers. They looked amazing and were only $30 a pair. I admired herlean and (longer than mine) legs, her tiny waist and pert bottom. “Are yougoing to get them?” I asked breathlessly. Heck, I’d have bought all three for her;such was my delight at finding shorts to fit someone in our party of two. “Nah,”she replied, “they aren’t quite perfect.”

“Sweetheart,” I said sighing louder than she ever could, “that’s just pants.”

Bottoming out

2011-12-19T12:43:00.000+13:45

My TV career then and ...then

This morning I stepped on the scales to find that I hadmagically gained half a stone somehow and my jeans were a great deal tighteraround my derriere than last week.Two things occurred to me:

Firstly, maybe this is what happens when you hit your 50’sand spend the week before Christmas eating and drinking at a multitude ofsocial gatherings; your body just says ‘bring it on’ and there it stays. Onyour middle, your thighs and your behind (never, I notice, on your chest whereit would be more Nigella like). And secondly...if I was Pippa Middleton, my enlarged gluteusmaximus might have bought me a publishing deal of epic proportions, well if Iwas 25 years younger and my sister had just married the next king in waiting ofcourse. And too, if the bottom in question was a great deal more uplifted thanit is these days, as it peers downwards seeking the comfort of any availablecouch.

As I poured light milk on my porridge to counteract themaple syrup I’d liberally doused it with, my husband pointed out the Dom Postarticle about the Nelson couple who have ‘hit the mother lode’ with an 8.5 million dollar Lotto win. I hope it’s the friends we go camping with so that wecan ditch the tent this year and all go and stay at a luxury resort on theirmoney (they’d shout us wouldn’t they?) I’d like to rest my weighty buns onsomething more supportive than a camping chair this season. I refused a piece of toast proffered by hubby, not just becausethe bread was a bit mouldy, but because if we did go and stay somewhere posh, I’dneed to look fabulous in togs and I have a week to do it.

This bought me to another realisation...why do I need tolook like a 25 year old when I am clearly not? My mother and grandmother neverhad this compulsion. But they were never on the telly. And low... the lightwent on- I am not on the telly anymore! With the demise of Avalon and Good Morning moving to Auckland, my current (sporadic and tiny) TV career is at anend. I no longer need to look good on the streets in case someone sees me andit’s all over the Women’s Day that Fifi the Craft Queen wears daggy old jeans, athreadbare Glasson’s tee shirt and no lipstick on a daily basis. Not that Iever made Woman’s Day of course- it’s a scenario that we like to play out inour heads isn’t it? The fame and fortune one. It’s one I’ve been playing foryears and like Monopoly (which I suck at) never goes the way you dream of. Aroll of the dice and the empire you hoped to build is rubble before you evenfinished the foundations.

Fame and fortune, like winning Lotto, rely heavily on twothings; commitment and serendipity. The Nelson couple played those same numbers,regularly for years. On the rare occasions that I buy a Lotto ticket I go for aLucky Dip- my odds of winning are not improved by buying a ticket 3 times ayear; and...the numbers simply never come up. Likewise with my TV career. My 7year stint on What Now as a Craft Queen and 6 years on The Good Morning Showcame about not because I was set upon having a job as a television presenter,it was because I was persistently and consistently doing something I reallyenjoyed; arts and crafts – then someone in broadcasting noticed and wanted me toshow viewers. I couldn’t have got the work if I’d taken myself off to broadcastingschool and bombarded TVNZ with my CV, show reels and egg cartons. It’s not theway it works.

The flipside of such random luck is the voice inside yourhead that says ‘This is it baby, you are on your way and now the deals willcome in- you’d better start getting professional about this!’ And then youworry about your clothes, your wrinkles, what you might say on Twitter and ifyour arse is too big. When I worked on What Now there was no internet ordigital media; opinion and gossip spread a little slower. Getting drunk on aFriday night didn’t mean your audience would see pictures of you on Saturdayall over Facebook, hair and dress askew chatting up a bartender.

Since I’ve been on Good Morning, I’ve sanitised this blog sothat it has become mostly a (fairly boring) web page for craft instructions, setup a fan page for facebook so that my personal life is kept hidden from my artfollowers and chewed my adult son’s ear off in the supermarket car park forbeing surly to a check out operator...”Do you know how hard I have worked to buildup a public profile? And I don’t want you jeopardising that with your attitude-you hear me?!!!” And still the offers of further greatness haven’t arrived; andat 51 with a sagging bottom, they aren’t going to- unless I take up the art of cuisine(and that is never going to happen).

And you know what? I don’t care! I don’t have to do any ofthe above anymore; I’m not accountable to viewers who might sit in theirarmchairs scoffing Cheezels whilst criticising TV presenters for their back fat(the cruel things people say on forums is unbelievable) And I’m going back towhy I set up this blog in the first place. To write about stuff that makes memad, makes me sad or makes me laugh. No-one is going to offer me a £400,000publishing deal because of my connections and shapely rump. I don’t envy Pippa,she has her whole media scrutinised life to lose ahead of her. I’m delighted tojust be ME- an artist, teacher, wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt and friend wholoves drawing, making stuff and writing odds and sods to amuse myself andothers. I shall also let out my waistbands.

Wishing you all a very happy holiday season

xxx Fifi

Pretty Paper Poinsettias

2011-12-06T14:15:00.001+13:45

Paper Poinsettias

Here they are- Pretty Poinsettia flowers as seen on Good Morning today. My last spot on the show- it moves to Auckland next year with a whole new team. Sad for Wellington and Wellington based contributors and crew, but folks, that television!

Paper Poinsettias

Sarah says she can’t keep her poinsettias alive, so I’vecome up with some paper ones for her to make instead! Simple to make with mytemplates and a few basic materials- and look great on a present, the Christmastree, side plates on the dinner table or even just blu-tacked to themantelpiece.

You will need:

Fifi’s Leaf and petal templates
Red, white and yellow paper (if you want to maketwo different coloured ones- otherwise just red paper will do
Green paper or card
Scissors
Large gold sequins (I found nice flower shapedones from Spotlight
Tinsel coloured chenille sticks (pipe cleaners)
A green felt tipped pen or coloured pencil
A sharp pencil

Traceor print the templates onto the paper- the leaves on the green and the petalson the other colours. You will need two petal shapes and one leaf shape perflowers.
Cutthem out. Draw veins on the green leaves.
Puncha small hole through the centre of each shape. I used a sharp pencil for thisand put a piece of thick corrugated card underneath so that the pencil made aneat hole through the leaf and petal shapes but not through my table!
Creaseeach petal on the flower shapes (but not the leaf)
Cutthe chenille stick into 4 (enough for 4 flowers). A pair of side cutters/pliersis good for this- don’t blunt your best craft scissors on the wire
Threada sequin on the end of one bit of chenille stick and bend the top over so itdoesn’t slide off.
Threadthe 2 petal shapes and then the green leaf onto the chenille stick and pushthem up tight.
Andthat’s it! You can bend the chenille stick around the tree branch to hold iton.

I'll be making these at Te Papa on the 20th and 21st December- details here.

They are free events, so come along, bring the kids, all materials are supplied!

Merry Christmas and all the very best for the coming year, Fifi

Pretty Polystyrene Xmas Trees

2011-11-29T17:41:00.001+13:45

Here are a couple of little Christmas trees you can make- I made them on the Good Morning Show today; my second to last apperance before Avalon closes and it all moves to Auckland. I've had a great 6 years on the show and met some wonderful people, not least the regular presenters and the crew. They rock! Thankyou to all who have watched me make things from egg cartons and more. I won't be disappearing from the craft world though; follow me on facebook to keep up with my workshops and events :)

Instructions for the little trees are here
Have fun and see you next week for paper poinsettias
xxx Fifi

Stomp through the holidays!

2011-10-11T10:01:00.001+13:45

School holidays...something I don't have to worry about anymore with grown up children. But I do still embrace childhood myself in many of the things I do. At the moment I'm making cute furry puppets for stage events, so when I read Ruth Paul's marvellous picture book 'STOMP' I had an immediate desire to make a wee Baby Dino Puppet. The instructions are here on my Good Morning TV profile and the pictures and pattern are below. Click on the patterns to bring up the full sized image, print it out and join it- I did it as 2x A4's because not many of us have A3 printers. Have dinosaur roaring fun these school holidays!

The RWC and me

2011-10-03T11:27:00.000+13:45

I've been slightly caught up in the RWC in a very peripheral way. I care about Dan Carter's groin (who doesn't?), I'll be gutted if the All Blacks don't win, I was amazed at Ireland beating Australia. I even made some rugby crafts for the Good Morning Show (pic below). But I think my general view of rugby as a whole is best summed up by this poem I wrote for Next Magazine some years ago...

Testing Times

When I was but alittle lass,

And rugby ruledthe nation,

I holidayed inHastings

With a pen pal onher station.

One night we wereawoken

With excitedurgency,

And dragged intothe living room,

Where sat a largeT.V.

Around it menwere crowded

With smokes andjars of beer,

All yelling 'Getthe boot in'

To a fullback atthe rear.

My eyelidsdrooped as I sat down,

But the womenpulled me up

And showed me tothe kitchen,

Where we did thewashing up.

We also butteredforty scones,

And heated upsteak pies,

Then made a batchof pikelets

Whilst the menscored armchair tries.

So I never reallydid become

A big fan of thegame,

The sport itselfis fine, I'm sure

...it's the cookingthat I blame.

WOW a-dress

2011-08-30T21:12:00.001+12:45

It's been all about the World of Wearable Art this last week. I had an entry in show that I held private hopes for which were realised with an Honourable Mention; which also puts it in the winners line up. Not thats that is why I enter at all. In February each year when I'm gathering materials and sketching my ideas, winning is the last thing on my mind. Making the piece is all and finishing it is everything. Getting to the line up is a real acknowledgment...
This year I was invited to give the designer's address at the Judges Forum, the day after Award night. One designer asked if I would send him a copy of my speech. I said I'd put it on facebook- seeing as this feeds straight there, I am managing both spaces quite efficiently! Anyway, here it is excactly as I read it. Enjoy...

WOW 2011 Address

In 1995,with a baby in a buggy and preschooler on a leash, Isaw the strangest and most inspiring thing. A Wearable Art mini show atMerivale Mall in Christchurch. Donna Demente’s ‘Pallas Athene’ stunned me and Iknew I had to try my hand at this too. I got together with Sylvia Campbell andRobyn Martin and together we created the Mid Winter Wonder Bra. We were overthe moon when it got into show and that sealed my fate; to become that oddbreed of person- a WACO - Wearable Art Compulsive Obsessive. This year my 18^thgarment is on that stage. I’ve entered almost every category over the years,I’ve even been an International entrant when we took off to live in the U.K fora couple of years (I made the most postage efficient bra possible) I work inTelevision and Film directly as a consequence of my WOW portfolio. A good manyof my pieces are in the WOW collection and the others come to schools andevents with me when I run WOW workshops.

I have a very large attic.

When invited to talk today about my journey through WOW, Ifelt honoured. I’ve sat in the judges forum audience for years, sometimeselated by the night before success, at other times, caving in with private disappointmentat my lack of a prize... but always blown away by the previous night’s show. Inthis place I have come vowing never to make another piece again, arms folded,glaring at the judges, ungenerous about the spotlight on others- until I seethe category entries for next year.

So I wondered what I’d say today knowing you might be in oneof those spaces. I could talk about the garments, what I made, how I made them,what things I have won... or not, how many column inches I have made in thepaper (more than a few). But... becausethere are many here who wonder if they have the courage to enter for the firsttime, to become part of this international WOW community I am so very fond of, Ithought I’d just read this, it’s called:

Useful lessons from Fifi

If your garment is featured large in thecatalogue at dress rehearsal Wednesday, don’t buy new shoes on Thursday.
Buy new shoes only if you can afford them onTuesday.
Buy the shoes YOU like, not what your partnerlikes
A partner’s opinion is not necessarily the bestmeasure of your entry’s worth.
Ignore your partner at all times whilst creatingyour art, unless they are an artist.
Even then, ignore them
Take your partner out to dinner when you’ve sentyour entry off and say ‘I’m back!’

It is possible to get film costuming workout of your WOW portfolio.
It isn’t possible to work in film for less than10 hours a day.
If you do work in film, buy your partner dinner occasionallyand say ‘Remember me?’

Hot glue is no substitute for epoxy resin
Epoxy resin is no substitute for rivets
Rivets are no substitute for a great idea If you wake in the night with a great idea,write it down in case you can’t remember it in the morning.
If you can’t get back to sleep after waking inthe night, it’s probably the right idea- you may as well start making it rightaway. Yes even at 4 in the morning- its good trainingfor the last week before hand in.

Aside from Bunnings, Pete’s Emporium and the tipshop, Heather Palmer is your bestresource.
When you find 1000 units of something in a boxat the tip shop it’s o.k. to be excited!
Find somewhere good to hide it from your partner.
If your partner finds it, take them out todinner and say ‘I’ll tidy up in three months time’

Always wear a respirator when using sprays andchemicals.
Never drink and spray.
Never drink and carve.
Never drown your sorrows, only toast yourachievements. Finishing a WOW entry is just that.

If you ask your daughter’s boyfriend to modelyour bizarre bra, it could go one of two ways...
If he says ‘that’s really cool’, tell yourdaughter he’s a keeper. It’s good to have supporters.
You will see the floor of your loungeagain...
It may have fabric stuck to it, so might thecat.
White cats are a very bad thing to have aroundyour UV garment, unless your piece is all about fur.
Make sure you don’t pack up the cat with yourentry.

A fridge box is good for containing your WOWcreation.
Bond and Bond & Noel Leemings biff theirs onThursday mornings.
Saturday is the cut off day for Mainfreight.
Sending your partner out to find a box late onFriday afternoon then screaming that it is the wrong size when they bring itback in the back of the car, not the trailer, will cost you many dinner dates;remember what I said about pre-spending prize money...

It doesn’t matter if you don’t win- unless youbought shoes you can’t afford.
If you think someone else’s entry shouldn’t havewon, go and see it up close at the WOW Museum in Nelson. You’ll understandinstantly.

Do not glare at your entry when it is returned-recycle it into something else.
Never throw out the recycling; it might becomeyour next WOW entry.
Don’t try to be the next Supreme Award winner-you have no idea what that looks like; only the judges do.
Making wearable art is a game; have fun with it.Play full out, use team where necessary.
Above all, be yourself in your work.

Thankyou Trelise, Nigel, Suzie , Heather,Gabrielle, Esme and the WOW team.

Climb on board Newbies...

· Note: My work, Vena Immaculata was entered in the 'Under The Microscope' Gen-i Creative Excellence section. Clean red blood cells gush from a vein to meet the deadly beauty of breast cancer.

Three women I know have breast cancer. It’s a battle to keep fatigue and anaemia at bay; red blood cells are knocked back by the treatment. Photos of the cancer cells reveal them to be like delicate frilled bouquets. Beauty disguising the beast? The battle between good and evil; almost religious in its intent. Breast cancer used to be known as “nuns’ disease.”As far back as the 14th century, the disease affected nuns more than any other group of medieval women. Researchers say it’s because the nuns did not give birth or breastfeed. Nature’s extraordinary punishment for such holy sacrifice...

Fifi Colston Creative

2011-08-03T11:45:00.002+12:45

So I’ve been a bit slack on the writing front and it’s alldue to facebook.

Currently I’m notwriting, which is in part due to making Wearable Art and illustrating amammoth book (I mean big, not about woolly elephants), but mostly because I’ve been getting my kicksand rewards from social media.

However my status the other day read:

I am beginning tothink only in short status updates- I daren’t take up Twitter because I willonly be able to have smaller and more pointless thoughts...

I look back at some of my blogs here on Fifi Verses theWorld and I got quite heated and opinionated about some things; all in thenicest possible way of course.

But also...the posts were longer than a finger width. Inshort, I wrote. This has its upsides; publishing at the touch of a button,instant feedback= instant gratification. But like all sweet things, they tendto go to your hips and in no time you are lazy both in mind and body. Bloggingat first seemed like the ultimate distraction from my novel writing, butfacebook...well that’s a whole new procrastinationgame.

“I’m doing it to promote myself” I said. Its true- socialmedia is a must do for the modern artist and writer. But really? really I’mthere to gossip. I had an impressive 400 strong list of friends- but really,really I knew maybe 100 of them in some way though family, work or play. Andwith strangers I added liberally to my list came restraints:

Edit the family and holiday photos to make sureno-one who watches me on TV might trawl through and single out my children totarget for whatever purpose (though they’d bite off more than they could chewwith MY grown offspring).

Say nothing about my political views in case theteachers/possible clients/secret police took offence and blacklisted me becauseI vote differently from them.

Never ever swear in case someone who just lovesmy egg carton creatures swooned with shock at the language.

Keep all jokes light and seemly so that I mightfit into any parish hall on any occasion.

Delete bawdy comments in case any of the abovetook offence at anything my friends might say.

Oh it went on and on until I was heavy with self censorship.I was banned book all by myself.

So...I did what I have resisted since joining facebook. No,not left it (didn’t you know, you can never REALLY leave?), I love it as agossip and news feed unreservedly. No, I have created a ‘page’ and invited everyone tojoin me there instead. On Fifi Colston Creative you can keep up on a dailybasis with what I’m doing creatively and be offended by absolutely nothing.Your kids and your granny can look at it and be inspired not confused. You canfind pictures of my work and instructions for my crafts and be the first tohear about any workshops I’m running. Go and check it out.

So what about all my other friends; the ones I have actuallymet and had a conversation with- I went to school with, drank wine with, hadbabies in Plunket with?

Oh they are still there in my personal page. They won’tget Fifi diluted. They all know who I vote for, what my views on parkingwardens in Wellington are (well actually EVERYONE knows that!) and what ticklesmy sense of humour. They know my family, my friends and I know theirs. Andthere are a few who I have never met except through facebook but who I findinspirational, supportive and incredibly entertaining.

And this blog? I’ll continue to post- sometimes it’ll be apoem, sometimes crafts and sometimes something with insight. And you canhelp create me- yes that’s right, create me. Social Media is a conversation;not passive voyeurism. Read me, talk to me on my page or let me know what you think in the comment box andI’ll give you the information and art you need and want.

Looking forward to a whole new conversation!

Cheers Fifi

Soggy Saturday

2011-07-23T10:21:00.002+12:45

I may have posted this one before, but looking outside at the rain, it seems appropriate to post it again. I wrote this for my regular Next Magazine column whilst we were living in Bristol- it rained there just as much as it does here...possibly more.

Outpourings

I told the rain to go away

And come again another day.

It did and now it’s with regret

I find myself so sodding wet.

My car today was down the street;

I ran to it on soggy feet,

My brolly fighting with the wind,

Turned inside out and had me pinned

Against a wall where gutters gushed,

Awash with leaves and humus, mushed.

It all cascaded down my neck;

A filthy shower, made for Shrek.

My jeans, a trendy baggy pair,

Dragged a denim driftnet flare,

And I craved a retro 80’s taper

Instead of street-cool litmus paper.

When I was young, we used to say,

Rain was the Almighty’s way,

Of showing he was feeling blue…

I hope he doesn’t get the flu!

Wearable Art Workshop for kids!

2011-07-20T12:16:00.006+12:45

photo Courtesy of Brancott Estate Wearable Arts

School holidays... what better time to come and do a Wearable Art Workshop with me? I'm running a kids workshop at Wellington's amazing Zealandia sanctuary on Tuesday 26 July 10am – 1pm.

All materials and morning tea are provided- just bring your enthusiasm! You'll come away with a great piece of wearable art made from recyclable materials. Good for boys as well as girls!

To book a place, go here

Happy Hat Box!

2011-07-06T00:47:00.000+12:45

Ra whanau ki ahou!

Yes it’s my birthday and to celebrate, I made a hat box birthday cake! This is a great way of catering for the different dietary needs of friends. We have three celiacs in our family, so it’s really vital not to get the cupcakes mixed up!

Here are the instructions for making this cake- sorry you’ll have to find your own recipes for the edible bits (baking is not my strong point- my son is better at that; I do the art and he does the cooking!)This is a really easy craft but looks so gorgeous! I did one for a friend for her wedding, themed it with sea colours and decorated it with driftwood and paua shell. You'll have loads of crafty fun with this one :)

Here's me making the craft on the Good Morning Show today- complete with a terrible cold (made better by kisses from Brendon Pongia and Matai Smith. Ka pai!

Matariki Star template

2011-06-14T23:30:00.000+12:45

Here is the template for the Matariki Star serviette rings- go here for instructions- happy crafting everyone!

Happy Matariki

2011-06-11T13:40:00.001+12:45

It's Matariki, the Maori New Year, so make the The Seven Sisters (Pleiades star cluster) with me on Good Morning, this Tuesday, 14th June. I'll show you how to make the beaded stars, serviette rings and a stunning centrepiece for your table and Matariki feast!

Handmade Instructions

2011-06-06T16:42:00.002+12:45

For all of my lovely attendees from the Handmade masterclass workshop yesterday,

email me for exclusive instructions and templates!

Handmade in Wellington

2011-06-03T14:49:00.000+12:45

You may be aware of an exciting new event called HANDMADE 2011 happening 4-5 June at Te Papa.

I’m really excited to be involved as a masterclass speaker in the HANDMADE programme with lots of other wonderful activities celebrating all things HANDMADE.

I’m doing a masterclass called Wrap and Dangle: the Art of Giving

in the Gift It category on Sunday 5^th June 11.00am-12.45pm Tickets to this are $45 and you can come along and watch me demonstrate [insert description].

I will also be attending the Meet the Makers & Pop Up Store party, on Saturday 4 June from 6.30pm at Te Papa. This will be a great opportunity to have some fun with friends, support the makers selling items and talk to us about what we do. Tickets are $30 refreshments will be served and you don’t have to be a HANDMADE attendee to come along.

You can find out more about the other classes, demonstrations, lectures and tours and purchase tickets at www.handmade2011.co.nz

The inaugural HANDMADE is the place for people who want to learn the skills and crafts of previous generations but with modern style and flair.

Make in a workshop with expert teachers
Watch Masterclasses with high profile makers
Join a tour
Learn in the lecture series

Come to one thing or as many as you like depending on your budget and available time.

There are limited numbers in the 150+ activities on offer so it’s best to get in quick to book your activities so that you don’t miss out on your first choices!

I’d be delighted if you’d join us as part of the HANDMADE weekend.

Sweding...

2011-05-02T14:26:00.001+12:45

I have been remiss at blogging! All I can say in my defence is that 'I was busy Your Honour'. What with you ask? (or not, if you have given up following me)...

Wearable Art for one; the deadline is the end of this week and I have been very busy hand sewing things and creating an unholy mess in the lounge, dining area, kitchen and my tiny studio. The family will forgive me soon...

The other has been the ANZAC book by David Hill that I am illustrating for Scholastic. I had a wonderful week at New Pacific Studio in Mt Bruce over ANZAC and the following week to get to grips with the final pencil drawings before I put brush to paper and stylus to wacom tablet. Working day and night with only breaks for coffee and the odd poached egg on toast...bliss. Now how many other people can say that about their work?

I also went to the Spinning Tales, the Children's Book Writer's and Illustrator's Hui in Auckland, which was fabulous and reaffirmed to me just how lucky I have been to be traditionally published in this increasingly tough world. Times are a changing; exciting and challenging and I say 'bring it on!' even though it may be uncomfortable at first. At the Hui I sang for my supper at the Literary Feast with a rendition of 'Where the Wild Things Are' by Maurice Sendak. It was a sweded version and for those of you unfamiliar with the sweding concept, go here to find out more about 'Be Kind Rewind', the movie by Jack Black and the art of making something from whatever you can lay your hands on.

Such was the response to it and requests to see it again by those who didn't attend the Hui, that I reprised it at The Library Bar in Wellington one night for our WCBA Club night. Mike Bodnar filmed it for us under less than perfect lighting conditions and managed to edit out the waitress walking in with a latte for someone (and asking who had ordered it). All the props were made from egg cartons, paper plates and scrumpy bottles, and the claws were fashioned by the audience over a glass of wine prior to filming. Thankyou to the enthusiastic audience for roaring and clawing so marvellously! Instructions on making the claws are below.

Crackpots

2011-03-21T13:54:00.004+13:45

So, one month ago tomorrow, I did some fun artwork on the Good Morning Show with Brendon Pongia. We had a few laughs, made some poured acrylic paintings and I tootled off to have some lunch and think about my book illustration project in the afternoon. Then I got a text from a friend to say Christchurch had been hit by a massive quake and all my plans went out the window. The past month has been distracting to say the least; worrying about friends and family, glued to facebook and the news media...

But at some point we have to pick up and get on with things; my book illustration job is underway, family have gone back to Christchurch to mend their broken houses and jobs and queue for coffee (now is a very good time to have a mobile coffee cart in Canterbury from all reports). And friends are wondering what to do with their precious possessions that are ‘munted’ (now a Christchurch colloquialism).

A very fine Christchurch illustrator friend, Jenny Cooper, had a good idea.

‘Don't chuck out your broken plates! Christchurch needs them! Let's all keep our precious broken plates, mugs, jugs, vases, tiles..... anything that was beautiful and has a memory attached..... if we pop them in a box and tuck it away in the garage, in 6 months we can organise a memorial mosaic sculpture, perhaps in the Botanic gardens. Perhaps craft people and mosaic specialists will help, and we can re-use these lovely irreplaceable old bits of china, maybe build some benches or a garden, think of how lovely The Giant's House in Akaroa is. Have spoken to a City Council Member who says yes go for it, please repost this to everyone in Christchurch who might be interested.... it might not happen overnight, but it will happen!’

I like good ideas, so I thought I’d get the ball rolling (or the plates as it were) by making something from a piece of cracked ceramic ware on The Good Morning Show on Tuesday 22^nd March at 9.30am.

Jenny sent me her smashed Katie Gold handbag pieces carefully packaged in bubble wrap to which I then took a hammer (sorry Katie- I was very respectful about it) and created the flower pot you see here. I’m no expert mosaic artist and am learning as I go; there is enough of the broken ceramic to make three small pots looking ‘same same but different.' By the time I’ve finished the third one I’ll be far more useful to the project Jenny is proposing for Christchurch. In 6 months time I’d like to go down there and be a part of creating a public artwork with anyone else keen to be involved. If you have broken china, we have a place to store it, just email me for the details.

We’ll be looking for sponsors to help with this by way of materials; tile adhesive, grout etc (btw...the fabulous Bunnings donated me the materials for my flower pot) And like all good ideas, we figure this will just evolve creatively and purposefully until it becomes a beautiful and functional reality. Just like the rebuilding of Christchurch :)

Of Mice and Men

2011-03-10T16:41:00.001+13:45

I’ve been wondering what on earth to write about since 22/2/11 (note that the numbers are all 2’s and this was the second destructive quake...sorry, part of me leans towards superstition and fate). There has been a lot to absorb and some extraordinary feats of courage...and fundraising going on during this time.

I had lunch with a Christchurch friend today, temporarily exiled to Wellington until her work premises is made safe, who admired my NZ hearts ChCh tee shirt and said she’d buy one. I said she should be given an ‘I got out alive’ one for free. She said since she’s been in Wellington she’s been dragged along to every fundraiser and charity dinner and spent a fortune essentially donating to herself.

For myself, I’ve given to the Red Cross, the Salvation Army, I’ve bought the tee shirt, I’ve sent care packages to friends to cheer them up, I’ve lent my car and house to evacuees (ok friends and relatives but still in need of a funk hole) and I have followed on facebook all the initiatives to raise money for Christchurch.

But I stopped short of donating my work to Trademe.

Why would I do this? After all, I have piles of it sitting around at home in boxes being eaten by silverfish.

The reason is this. In good times it’s very hard to get the public to buy art, unless you are a name artist and even then it’s not that simple. Trademe is littered with artworks; some good, some very good and some would be much better kept in the portaloo. For the good and very good artist there is nothing worse than seeing your passion sell for your $1 reserve and find it costs you more to ship it than you anticipated. There is a now a flood of fabulous work donated by fabulous artists and crafts people and managed by tireless co-ordinators for the Christchurch Appeal. You can buy anything nice for a bargain basement price. It’s like the $2 Shop but with talent and class. But there’s something about getting art really cheap. It is never appreciated in the same way as saving up your next three years disposable income for a Shane Cotton would be. I suspect that’s why the trade is a bit slow. Artworks I have given away to people often ends up in their batches, to rot with sea salt. They don't know what to do with it when it's free.

I have been an artist since I was a tiny little girl. I have never wanted to be anything else. The tiny mouse in the photo was one I made when I was 11. There was a fad for them in gift shops at the time and I cunningly sketched one whilst loitering and looking like a young shoplifter, then went home and made a pattern for it. I turned out my entire family in mice. My older sister was getting married, so I made a bride and groom set. My other sister was into tramping so I made one with a backpack, tramping boots and iceaxe, posed on a rock. My mother was a little cuddly matron mouse, crotcheting a rug (I fashioned a weeny one with a bent pin) and my father mouse was dressed in waders and holding a fly fishing rod. I gave them all as presents. Me of course, the artist mouse I kept, because I knew this was my future and nothing would make me happier than to live into it. None of my family still have theirs (note to whanau: feel free to contradict me here). I rest my case.

So, years later, still basically on the income of my prophetic little effigy, I won’t give my art away to help people; because it won’t raise nearly enough money for the very large hole left by the earthquake.

Neither will cutting benefits, subsidies and student allowances. And Prince William is darling, but is saving up for his wedding, so we can’t rely on the monarchy to bail us out.

No, I think the answer lies in Charlie Sheen; the man with Adonis DNA. We should invite him over. He could have a large, last party, and our wonderful student army could go in and shovel the excess cocaine off the porn star’s backs and sell it on. I think that would about cover it.

No words...

2011-02-25T08:41:00.000+13:45

In the wake of the Christchurch earthquake can't think of anything useful to say, so I'm posting this piece by Zara Potts, about her experience. A piece from her heart and her gut. My blog post in November last year 'Stirred but not too Shaken' seems totally redundant in the light of the past few days. There is no old eclectic part of the central city anymore. My heart goes out to Christchurch, all my friends there, my mother-in-law who we now have sleeping properly for the first time in days in our spare room and everyone I don't know there too. Kia kaha. Everyone else, please give generously to the Red Cross.

Valentine Verse

2011-02-14T17:22:00.000+13:45

I can't remember in the history of this blog if I've ever posted the following verse. It was created quite a few years ago in whilst living in Christchurch. There was a competition on MoreFM radio to write a poem for Valentines Day. I decided I would win it because we were desperately in need of a treat. Now I have learned a thing or two in my years on this planet and one of them is 'A for presentation'. I figured that if my poem was written as a piece of artwork on scroll of handmade paper tied up with a large ribbon, it might actually get read by the radio station. I was right, and it won.

The prize was a night for two at The Chateau on the Park complete with a fabulous fine dining dinner for two in a rose strewn gazebo, a string quartet, a magician AND our own fabulous Geraldine Brophy in a gorgeous ball gown reading my poem out loud to my loved one. We seemed to be the highlight of the night for many Japanese tourists watching us from their balcony. The radio station called us in the morning to find out if we had had a suitably romantic night. My husband had caught a red eye flight to Auckland for a business meeting and was unable to comment but I happily reported that we had slept brilliantly. It was night off from the children!

My loved one has done quite well from my competition entries; it was our 28th wedding anniversary two days ago and we went to dinner at Hippopotamas on a voucher I won at Te Papa last year in a quickfire WOW challenge. The meal and service was divine as was the 2008 Savingnon Blanc from Haythornthwaite Wines in Martinborough. And no, they didn't pay me to say that.

In the meantime, here is the poem that won us such a treat all those years ago:

A Lover's Feast

I'd like to make you dinner,

With French champagne to pour,

I'd drink in your sensation,

You'd be my Soup de Jour.

Then maybe for an entrée,

We'd try some quail's eggs,

Arranged around your ankles,

I'd eat them off your legs.

For main course you'd be something,

With oysters down your spine,

I'd smother you in dressing,

And soak your mind in wine,

Desert would be indulgent,

Quivering with cream,

I'd drizzle you in chocolate,

Then lick your platter clean.

But eating's so domestic,

With the kids at home,

They don't know were hungry,

And long to be alone.

If we had an evening,

Together, just me and you,

I'd love to turn you into,

A Valentines meal for two.

Why worry?

2011-02-03T23:39:00.000+13:45

A painting done one day when I was feeling lonely in a new town...

I’m aware that I have not blogged for a month! This must be a record for me, but to tell you the truth, I am a bit of a facebook junkie. I can send status updates by phone ( I have a new and fabulous Android ), post pictures, let people know about up and coming events and well, generally enjoy the immediacy of it. Isn’t that funny? A couple of years ago I thought blogging was very immediate; but the reality is that people seem to like and respond more to small bites of information than long diatribes. Facebook and Twitter have become our new town criers. Should we worry?

I have decided not to.

Since the start of the new year I have attended 3 funerals, followed the news on weather disasters, observed the political unrests abroad and wondered where our cat was after he got into a scrap and didn’t come home. Worrying about any of these things makes no difference at all to the outcome. I spent much of last year in deep concern over things outside of my control or sphere of influence. The economy right now, it has to be said, sucks more than just a little bit, but fretting about it didn’t make more money come in the door. One can only be paid for the work one does, so if there is no work...well that’s not a hard one to figure out.

So it took my breath away this morning when I read in the Dominion Post the following gem from our Minister for Social Development Paula Bennett in relation to the Artists Benefit which is likely to be axed.

"As valuable as the arts are to society, now is not the time to be turning down available work to follow an artistic dream"

I posted it as a status update on facebook and had immediate feedback (this is why I love the medium; it’s a social network).

Here are some of the (abridged) comments- and I have not included names for privacy reasons.

“Calling creativity a "dream" lables it as fluffy, lightweight, fantasy or unrealistic avoidance of proper realistic goals. Now IS the time for innovative and creative answers to our problems, self generated occupation, the time to look at ideas and goals, not turning away and putting them aside.”

“As valuable as politicians are to society, now is not the time to allow the state to dictate that only those in paid employment are valuable to society”

“Then politicians turn up to arts functions and openings on their free invites and drunkenly expound on how wonderful certain artists are.”

There were plenty more, but if you want to read them then you’ll have to join facebook and befriend me.

My big question to Ms Bennett is “What exactly is the available work we artists are turning down?”

Every artist, writer and performer I have known have spent a good deal of money, sweat and time on their education in the arts. They work intensely on their practice, their networking and marketing. They invest money into their businesses and also do work that is not inspiring or particularly creative in order to invest further. Why do we do this? Why don’t we line up to apply for jobs that Ms Bennett says are out there (but in reality aren’t).

Vincent Van Gogh said it perfectly: "The only time I feel alive is when I'm painting."

If he’d become a policy analyst, he’d have died much sooner...

As I said, I’ve been to 3 funerals already this year; the death of the arts in New Zealand is not one I want to attend. But I'm not going to worry; I'm going to stand up.

What are you going to do this year?

Santa Baby...

2010-12-16T14:56:00.001+13:45

With the Christmas and the New Year coming up shortly I pondered my last post for 2010. Should it chronicle the highs and lows of my year? If you are a follower of this blog you’ll know all of those, and if you don’t, trawl back and have a gander through the past 12 months of the creative life of Fifi. I won’t spend any more time rehashing the already blogged. There is only one more thing I’d add to my news and that is: the stars have aligned and I have achieved the never before made possible- a Creative New Zealand Grant. And just in the nick of time. Now I can look forward to making a damn fine job of illustrating an ANZAC book by David Hill in 2011 free of irritating distractions...like how to pay the power bill and buy groceries for the week. Because it’s been a lean old year in our household, as it has been for many New Zealanders.

Which brings me to Christmas and the worship of Santa, the patron saint of Advertising. Now that we have adult children (the last teen turned 20 this week), we are spared the pressure of ridiculous over consumption at the most financially precarious season. How have we managed this? This weaning off consumerism? Simple. They’ve both flatted this year and have really understood the meaning of cash flow. Its Pam’s and Budget everything and they have a distinct appreciation of what is absolutely necessary to live. Food, shelter and washing powder are critical, iPhones are not. Our son has put in a vegetable garden at his flat. Our daughter made a sandwich each day to take to Uni. Clothes come from op-shops (much more groovy than high street) and walking is a healthier and cheaper option than catching the bus. They both work as well as study. There’s no expectation and lots of appreciation for when we are able to treat them to things. They’ve grown up. It’s lovely.

Ten years ago I wrote the above poem for Next Magazine for my monthly column. Our daughter was still a child. Take heart if the wish list pinned to your fridge trails down and across the floor tripping you up as you reach for the visa card. They do change; especially if you don’t indulge every whim for fear of pouting.

Have a safe and happy Christmas, and let’s welcome the new decade in as one of positive change, growth and abundance.Love to all who read my blog and give me such positive feedback, may your hopes and dreams become reality xxx Fifi

The Artist's Studio

2010-12-07T12:31:00.002+13:45

some of my workspaces through the ages...

I’m on the move again...with my studio space that is.

I have projects for 2011 that require much time input right now but won’t output anything in the way of income until sometime in the future, so it’s time to review the financial sense of having a space for which the rent is becoming a tiresome burden. Added to that, now that the kids have gone flatting, it seems ludicrous to have not one but two guest bedrooms, when in the past guests were happy enough to sleep on the lounge floor in our deluxe airbed. So, in the grand tradition of making your son’s bedroom into a sewing room, I am making his into my studio. It has a wooden floor (good for paint spills), great light and a view out to Lyall Bay where I can see the waves twinkling in the distance which is important for me because I hate feeling landlocked. Plus my espresso machine is at home, and my husband and I can share the phone and broadband as we keep each other company in our freelance work. The cat will be ecstatic; I’m far more generous with feline appreciation than my SO is.

So, I am given pause to think about my studios over the years, and how they reflect my stages of life and development in my career. So, if you are interested, read on, if not, just look at the pictures. This is a long post, so sit down with a coffee sometime when you aren’t too busy...

0- 20: The Formative Years

My bedroom: this included sharing with my sister who was more interested in outdoor adventures than arty farty things. When we moved to New Zealand (I was 8) I saved all my drawings and because we were renting at the time and weren’t allowed to stick things on the wall, I pinned my pictures to sticks of bamboo and stood them upright so I had a gallery of sorts. Later when we had a house, I had a huge wardrobe that I filled to the brim with bags of feathers, felt and saved packaging ready to transform into art and craft.

Later still as a design student and in yet another house, my father made me a fold down drawing board in my small bedroom so I could work on assignments on somewhere other than the dining table after tea. I also spent long hours at Polytech working late into the evening at the desk space allotted me. We each had our own and in the 3^rd year were given partition walls each to make our desks into tiny studios. We were queens and kings of our own workspaces.

20-27: The Eager Years

My flat bedroom - not so good for bringing clients into. It was soon clear I would need something else. The first was a space in Christchurch’s Hereford St in an old building that was fairly deserted on my floor. I had small space at first then negotiated with the landlord for a larger one. My first celebration of it was to invite all the Advertising Agency creatives for a party so they could see where I was and use me. I possibly served Pink Chardon and chippies. Everyone came- it was a blast! I had fun times in that studio, gathering together other artists for life drawing sessions and creating theatre posters, brochures and mastering airbrushing skills which would become my main form of trade. I got tired after a while of being by myself on that lonely 3^rd floor though and when Murray Freeth, an animator said the box room was available to rent in Salisbury St at Orly Productions, I moved in. It was the 80’s, and my husband was now working at Saatchi & Saatchi. We went out drinking and partying a lot. I wore huge shoulder pads, had more work than I could handle and was working in TV as craft presenter on What Now too. But human nature being what it is, and biological clocks ticking early, I embarked upon motherhood. Because having children wouldn’t change my life would it? No, a baby would gurgle and smile at me in the corner whilst I got on with my work.

27- 36: The Sleepless Years

If I thought I was busy before, I barely slept now. I tutored at Polytech, performed on TV, illustrated and became a committee member for everything from Plunket to illustration communities. I worked from home in the spare bedroom of our little cottage, until the lack of space for work and more babies necessitated a house move. Once again in the new house I worked in the spare bedroom until the babies; now children, needed rooms of their own. So we did a ridiculous thing. We purpose built a studio onto the house (not a shed in the back garden), spent a fortune on landscaping and redecorating...then moved to Wellington.

36- 40: The Juggling Years

Not knowing if I would find a community back in Wellington to ease into (how silly- Wellington is the best place to do this!) I took up an offer of a studio in Courtenay Place with fellow illustrators Debe Mansfield and Ruth Paul. We had fun! We gossiped, drank coffee, smoked illicit cigarettes out the window and generally behaved like schoolgirls, whilst churning out illustration for design, advertising and publishing. I had to rush off to pick up kids at the most inconvenient of moments; usually when the girls suggested drinks at one of the many bars round the corner. I formed a lasting attachment to those women and when babies arrived for them and I had itchy feet, the studio was waved farewell and I worked from home for a short while before our family headed off to England.

41-43: The Wandering Years

Packing up my studio and rationalising my art materials down to what would fit into a Pooh Bear lunchbox, I worked from the dining table in our basement flat in Bristol. I bought a portable drawing board on which I illustrated two books for Huia Publishing back home and my monthly column in Next magazine. I made wearable art. We travelled and I painted in visual diaries and on our return to NZ, my studio was wherever I could find space in the kitchen.

44-47: The Dissatisfied Years

Fed up with battling the family for space to work, I took space at The Production Village in Mt Cook with a bunch of other illustrators. It was great until I was too distracted (I have a huge tendency to chat). So I moved into another studio in Tory St with a great and old friend. But the space was too ‘officy’ and the parking an issue. I finished writing a novel in there then moved back home; which drove me bananas. If you think small children are distracting, try teenagers.

48-50: The Free at Last Years

The cottage at the Production Village came up for rent. So I took it. It cost me a comparative fortune but with at times 2 studio mates to ease the rent, made it possible. In that time and space I have made 2 WOW pieces (one award winning), created artworks for 3 solo exhibitions, run workshops, co- convened the planning for a highly successful conference, launched my last novel, made inroads on my new one, made dozens of plaster cupcakes for sale, created pieces for my regular spot on the Good Morning Show...then ran away and worked on The Hobbit Movie.

Ironically, the one time the studio rent was really affordable was when I wasn’t there, but in Miramar for a time. So back at home I am once again, with no distractions from children, my old wooden plan file and drawing board have come with me. It’s almost full circle, except that I’m not working out of my bedroom. Work spaces can be big or small; they can be purpose built or converted from a chook house. I’ve found after 30 years in the creative arts, it doesn’t really matter where you work from, because what counts is being excited about what you are doing. For me, that’s the large illustration project I am ready to start in the New Year, another piece of Wearable Art, the author visits to schools I do, the fun things I make on Good Morning, and the two novels I will finish writing; all from Hataitai, a very handy spot 5 minutes from town.

Sorry, we will not be renting out the house for the rugby World Cup.

Stirred but not too shaken

2010-11-21T22:58:00.000+13:45

I had a great weekend down in Christchurch for a friends 60^th birthday. I caught up with friends and family, thrillingly experienced a small aftershock (a Wellingtonian is saying this...nuts!) and went to see the Ron Mueck Exhibition.This is a pic of me looking at the giant newborn which gives you a sense of scale. If you haven’t been to see these extraordinary works, then book a cheap airfare and go. Do not miss it... and don’t be put off by that quake business.

Yes, there are houses with cracks and held together with ropes but there are houses totally unaffected. There are empty spaces where buildings have gone and then standing surprises like Shands Emporium (built 1866) where my favourite vintage clothing shop, Tête à Tête was mercifully undisturbed and doing a brisk, friendly and super helpful trade. But apart from some busy cafes and the selling of vintage corsets, things were pretty quiet retail-wise in the city centre. The locals seem pretty fed up with the state of things; the limbo that remains after a civil disaster in the midst of a recession. And it doesn’t help Christchurch if you stay away.

Whilst there, I went to a mall to buy a birthday card and it was packed to the gunnels with tinkly Christmas music and the overpowering smell of muggy people and stale food halls. I couldn’t wait to get out of it. This isn’t the Christchurch that I knew and loved in the 80’s and 90’s when we lived there. If you shut your eyes and opened them again you could be in St Lukes, Westfield or any of the cloned soul-less malls that dominate retail. Thank God Wellington is so geographically compromised that we adhere happily to a few well trod mainstreets in the heart of the city, leaving the malls to far flung satellite cities. It’s what keeps a city alive and kicking.

So, go to Christchurch but go to the heart of it. Go the art galleries, the markets, the art centre and the old eclectic parts that still remain and defied the earthquake. Go and spend your Christmas budget there on presents, eat in the cafes, enjoy the coffee, go and see the deliciously decadent Cabaret at the Court Theatre. That’s the way you can help, far more so than ticking a ‘like’ box on facebook. And go to the launch of a new book by Gavin Bishop and Diana Noonan (two of my oldest and favourite colleagues with my most supportive publisher) of Quaky Cat- authors doing their bit to help in the very best way possible.

Thats all for this week, cheers Fifi :)

Into the future with a book about the past

2010-11-18T11:30:00.001+13:45

I'm getting quite desperate to start on illustrating a book in the new year for Scholastic. This requires that I will need to cease my job on The Hobbit, because there isn't a way that one can spend 10 hours a day at one illustration job and squeeze another 10 hours a day into another. Ah...so little time, so much to do! Such opportunitites of varying financial return...do you take the gold now and stop building a personally developed nest for the future? Or starve whilst creating your magnum opus that may or may not reap dividends. The work I'm doing on the film will never have my name on it and at the end of the day I am a hired hand (literally, my hand is paid to render). I guess you have to go where your heart and soul is and as I said, I am quite desperate to start on that book and I intend for it to be a work of exquisit art. The pastel study I've attached here is a preliminary sketch- it won't appear in the book but will give you a feel for where I am heading with it. I hope it will touch the hearts of its audience because the story has certainly touched mine.

Secrets Revealed!

2010-11-11T21:05:00.000+13:45

Want to know the tricks and tips of seasoned speakers? In particular, how to manage an audience of under 13 year olds, their teachers and the kid with ADHD... come to the WCBA clubnight at The Library Bar on Courtenay Place next Tuesday at 7pm. I'll be there- in fact, I'll be speaking! Dessert are 2 for the price of one, so bring a friend :)

Tricksy!

2010-11-02T23:31:00.001+13:45

the original, airbrushed, non digital illustration

Well The Hobbit is here to stay and we are all happy here at work as we power ahead. Unfortunately I can’t tell you anything about that because well, you know the drill; confidentiality and all that... But I can tell you that my Photoshop skills have improved out of sight. Nothing like doing something for 10 hours a day to make you really good at it (now if only I could apply that to my novel writing...)

I sit at my monitor layering colours and textures and pause to marvel at how far I have come technology wise. Having been trained as an illustrator back in the computer free days and witnessing the arrival of such marvels like fax machines (my first one cost me $1,800 and that was with a dodgy deal- tell me can you even give them away now?) I thought old dogs would find new tricks hard work. And they are and it requires courage to learn and then to execute them. How far does a painterly poodle have to jump?

I’m now onto my 3^rd laptop and 4^th latest version of Photoshop and with my new Android phone I can email, blog, tweet, sync, upload, download, file share and store my histories somewhere in cyberspace. My grown children tell me to get off facebook...but it wasn’t an easy personal upgrade.

Back in, oh, 1994 or so, I saw a sign up at our local copy shop ‘Learn Photoshop, night classes here!’

I knew the writing (or illustration) was on the wall for me as younger graduates emerged from Design school with this knowledge under their belts and ready to rock. It was time for me to take the plunge and up-skill. When freelancing this is always done in your own time at your own expense; no company training sessions with morning tea thrown in.

I asked at the counter if it was suitable for beginners ‘like real beginners who have never even turned on a computer?’ Obviously they thought I was prone to hyperbole and assured me it was. Little did they know, I wasn’t exaggerating in the least. I didn’t own a computer, never had and was reluctant to forked out thousands of dollars for a Mac (back than you had to mortgage your house to buy one). So off I went one Tuesday night and sat down in front of a screen. We were asked to open a file and I looked around for a manila folder. You can see where this is heading can’t you?

I’ll spare you blow by blow agony of my evening except to say that the last straw came when following the cursor on screen, my hand slipped off the edge of the desk.

‘Excuse me,’ I said, ‘my mouse pad isn’t big enough.’

People snorted as the tutor came and showed me how to move the mouse with small flicks of the wrist. I sat red faced, crying on the inside and then, looking at my watch, declared my babysitter was waiting and I had to go. Mustering up the shreds of my dignity, I packed up, walked out, got in the car and burst into tears. I cried all the way home, all over my husband and all over my drawing board, convinced that I must be the only illustrator in the business who was a dinosaur. I wrote this poem for Next Magazine the very next day.

PMS DOS

'Drag me into the nineties' I said,

Before the decade is out,

Teach me about computers and stuff,

So my cred is left in no doubt.

Before you could say 'digitize it',

They signed me up for a course,

If a P.C was water to drink from,

It follows that I was the horse.

'Lead me to it', I cried with glee,

Not knowing my RAM from my ROM,

Then I was asked to open a file,

But where had the cabinet gone?

As mouses clicked (I thought they squeaked),

The others were having a ball,

I realised, then, like School Cert Math's,

I shouldn't have been there at all.

Shamed as I am by my ignorance,

I know that two things remain true;

Photoshop's where I buy my film,

And Windows just let the light through.

Digital illustration, now, I can do. Program the DVD player? Nah, but then, that’s what your kids are for...

The Misty Mountain of Employment...

2010-10-23T13:55:00.001+13:45

So….I have been very quiet on my blog for a couple of weeks. There are two reasons for that. The first is that I was up in Northland for New Zealand Book Month. Did you know there was one? Well sort of…it’s been moved until next year because of the Rugby World Cup (I don’t know why!!!!) but at the time I was initially invited it was all go for October.

I visited 4 school over 3 days, teaching writing workshops to years 4-8 and then ran two weekend workshops for adults in children’s’ book illustration and junior fiction novel writing. We all had a great time and hopefully all participants learned something new or were inspired some way to, as Nike says, ‘Just do it’. Because that’s what it’s all about in the end. No amount of plotting, planning, or strategising will make a difference to a bit of work getting out there and becoming a reality; to be enjoyed by its intended audience. You just have to work hard and finish the thing!

Which leads me to the other reason I have been a non-blogger this past week. In my last post I said I was lucky and I loved my new job in the film industry. I have been very quiet about which film but if you haven’t already guessed, it’s THE film. The one that’s been hitting the news, and because I held a placard and marched down the streets of Wellington with my co-workers, you may as well know I’m a costume illustrator on The Hobbit with the production company 3foot7. I am not to be confused with a costume designer- I don’t make the decisions on who wears what and what it’s made out of- I just help the team visualise their concepts on paper. Its great- I get to draw with real pencils everyday, and photoshop stuff. I work with amazingly talented people who bringing Peter Jackson’s vision to life and we are all looking forward to seeing the final cut and celebrating in the streets of Wellington when the last digital effect is put into place, some huge creature made by Weta Workshop is hoisted onto the Embassy roof and we all watch movies 1 and 2 and follow Bilbo Baggins into Mirkwood and beyond, proud of what we can do here in this country of ours.

Well, we hope.

I’m not a political blogger and have no intention of getting in to the heated discussions about unions, multi-national big boys, leanings to the left or to the right and who is responsible for swinging dollar and possible tourist industry collapse. There are plenty to follow if you want to read them.

All I know is, I love drawing and creating stuff. I’ve always done it and hope I always will. It is what I trained for at tertiary level and have spent the last 30 years as a freelancer doing. (My last effort will be a nice centrepiece for my recycled casket- made from egg cartons possibly and my daughter has been instructed to let loose on it with a paintbrush). The film industry is one area that employs enormous talent in copious quantities when a project of this magnitude comes into town. And as I marched with it last Wednesday, I wondered what we all will do if it comes to an end. After all, there are only so many supermarkets who will employ highly trained artists as shelf stackers isn’t there?

Kia kaha

Lucky Lucky Me…

2010-10-04T00:02:00.001+13:45


'A Great Hand' Velvet by Fifi

September and the very start of October have been pretty amazing I have to say…

Today I won a prize…yes another one (I hear you say). In the Get Set Create event at Te Papa. More about that later….

It’s easy for a blog to become a brag; a nauseating list of fabulous things that have been achieved and pretty soon people turn off, just a quickly as they do from extended whinges about how life is or isn’t. You can use a blog as an online diary or as a marketing tool. Either can be helpful or destructive depending on who reads your postings. I have a few followers and my blog gets visited a by around a hundred people a day. Many of those people are stumbling upon my site because for instance, I have posted a picture about a mermaid and they are looking for sirens. They might stop awhile, read, and move on. Or equally flick onto the next image found on google. This post is for the people who read what I have to write.

So I’ll tell you a story… it is about fame, fortune and serendipity and how it has come to play in my life recently.

So…I’m 50. Apparently you should never tell people your age. What bollocks. I'm proud to be 50 and still alive and kicking given my mispent youth and later inhalation of too many dangerous chemicals through my pursuit of art (read Costumes and Chemisty for a wake up call!)

But on my birthday I wondered what I had worked my arse off all these years for. I gather that’s quite a common thought, and yes, I thought it. For the past year, all my endeavours had come to nothing. Yes really, nothing. I’d put into my communities without expectation of reward, I’d created artworks of magnificence, I’d been a good and loyal freelancer to my clients (I think). So why was I so broke, so underemployed and why were all the opportunities going to everyone else? To be honest I was finding it hard to drag myself out of bed in the mornings, to sit in my studio creating more projects that might fly high one day when the wind was right. I was fed up and said so. On facebook.

One person who listened was another artist who has great insights and honesty in her posts. To her, I stopped doing the marketing and self promotion. To her I was brutally honest about how I was about my world- the one that seemed to be laughing in my face. This by the way is the experience of pretty much everyone at some stage- feeling forsaken. It takes different forms and occurs at different times in your life, so I am aware it is a frame of mind. But for me at that time it felt like all my worlds had shut me out.

So, my facebook friend said if it would help she would send me a Good Luck coin from a Buddhist Temple she’d been to in Taipei. It is a place people go to pray or give thanks for abundance. She thought I didn’t need it and didn’t hold much with icons, but if I thought it would make a difference she was happy to post it from far away. I said yes because I had truly tried everything else and nothing was working. When you haven’t bought new clothes for a year, restrict yourself to one take out coffee a week, cancel the papers and the electricity bill is looking like an insurmountable hurdle, you know you are feeling the pinch. See, if this blog was purely about marketing, I’d never have said that…

So she sent it, and the day after it was posted I got my job interview. And then I got the job, illustrating for the film industry. And I adore it. Then I won at WOW and have had great coverage in the media. Now it looks like the Chinese rights to my last novel may have been sold (is my publisher saying shut up Fi!?). Today I took part in the challenge at Te Papa I mentioned up front, pitted against two former Supreme Award Winners, a kind of Masterchef meet Project Runway in a 1 hour stage challenge…and I won. I got a goody bag of all kinds of marvellous things including generous voucher to Hippotamus, the fine dining restaurant at The Museum Hotel.

So, did the coin make the difference? Probably not. I had someone pushing me forward for the job, the WOW creation was made in June, my novel was published last year and today I was in good company and I had a great model. So what was it? It really comes down to this: people who believe in you, allow you to believe in yourself. No matter who you are. Sometimes you just need to re-open the portal, and if a talisman does the job, then thats all fine by me. And I give thanks, every day.

Talking of believing in people, there are some stunning young writers in the Fabostory project. Check out Andy Xie’s entry this week. Boy, we’ve got some tough competition ahead of us… better keep rubbing that lucky coin!

WOW (i) WON

2010-09-26T15:34:00.001+13:45

“The best things in life are unexpected - because there were no expectations.” Eli Khamarov

So, now that the World of Wearable Arts spectacular is showing and my artful cat is out of its bag, I can finally tell you about my entry, Lady Curiosity, which won 3^rd place in the Avant Garde section on Friday night. I'd also like to say that there are no givens with this competition, so I enter each year from the love of the idea I want to impart, not from an expectation of winning something- because the minute you create from that part of your brain, you sink into an unattractive swamp of greed, pride, envy and anger when you don't get up on that stage. That I got to go up there myself was a joy and given my competition, a great acknowledgement. There is a huge talent pool of artists in WOW.

So, to my entry- the 17th one over 15 years, all of them in show.This was my rationale submitted with the garment way back in June when the deadline for entries is nigh...

Lady Curiosity

Her tattooing is of itself a beautiful dress, and her collection full of wonders.

Tattooed ladies were a popular circus attraction of the late 19^th century; a peep show within a freak show. But it was not only performers who took to the art; ladies of society indulged too.

When I read New Zealand author, Rachael King’s novel Magpie Hall I was inspired by her Victorian gothic elements of tattoos, taxidermied collections and a possible flayed woman. A Cabinet of Curiosities and its odd contents was something the fated Dora in the book had to contend with. Ultimately it was to be her downfall … her Memento Mori (you HAVE to read this book!)

I created the cabinet with the well known mirror box illusion known amongst magicians. Where is the lady’s middle? She is merely full of curiosities in jars. The botanical illustrations are from Vintage Printable, the cabinet illustrations from ‘A Century of NZ Trademarks’. Her tattoos come from all over, some from friends, others referenced from Sailor Jerry, the famous tattooist of his time who created blueprints for hundreds of flash designs. The heart tattoo in the middle of Dora’s breast belongs to a writer I know- it seemed appropriate that the story should begin with one author and end with another.

*Memento mori is a Latin phrase translated as "Remember you must die". It names a genre of artistic creations that vary widely from one another, but which all share the same purpose: to remind people of their own mortality.

So if you like what I did and want a chance to win some great prizes for yourself, vote for my piece in the Dominion Post People’s Choice at www.dompost.co.nz or text WOW Lady Curiosity to 3100 (costs .20c)

And now...back to work.

Of fame and fortune

2010-09-11T12:52:00.000+12:45

Well, I’ve done the unimaginable; I have got a full time job. 10 hours a day at a location in Wellington where I actually get paid to do something I was trained for- illustration.

This is amazing to me, because the very nature of the life as an illustrator is freelance and a little precarious. That is not to say that this role won’t be either- I’m working on pre-production for a movie and for as long as it takes or as long as they need me, I will be there, pencil and wacom tablet in hand . This is solace to me after a year where everything workwise I tried to instigate seemed to come to nothing and increasingly people expected me to give generously of my working hours for free. Not that I don’t like to be philanthropic you understand… but this recession has hit our household particularly badly and I just can’t do it anymore.

So, whilst I can’t tell you what I am drawing, post pictures of my work or tell you who I meet, I can say it feels wonderful to be fully employed in the creative arts on a daily basis. I fully expect there will be a time where I yearn to hole up in my studio, talk to no-one and get on with my other pursuits; the two novels half finished that possibly no-one will want to publish when they are done, the picture book ideas that need further work that possibly (repeat the previous line), the painting collections that possibly (repeat again), the e-book on creativity that possibly (yawn…) you see the pattern? But for now, I’ve stopped facebooking obsessively, expending energy on committees to further other’s careers, tweeting, emailing and wondering why it is that I have even less paying freelance work than ever.

There is a great deal of satisfaction in getting your work out there and seeing your name in print, but there is even more in buying groceries and paying the power bill. I am very happy for now to put aside fame for fortune.

In the meantime (and I did say I’d be talking about WOW obsessively for the next two weeks), go and check out my 2005 piece from WOW, Sophia’s Story, at Ora in Allen Street. And whilst you are there, I recommend you have something from their wonderful café- great coffee, great gluten free food and all around you, great New Zealand art. See, the promosexual side of me hasn’t left the room completely!

WOW leather

2010-08-31T13:57:00.000+12:45

I'm now going to fill up my blog with WOW for the next month! Tis a passion of mine...and somewhat of an obsession. Luckily people share it with me and Konev Leather is no exception. In fact they are going to have one of my pieces in their Wellington shop window from Tuesday next week.

'Love is Temporary Madness' was inspired by the wonderful 'Captain Corelli's Mandolin' (the book is wonderful, the movie was rubbish- go read the book). The quote above says it all. The Bizarre Bra I made is below. If you are in town go check out the window at Konev in Featherston St... and then go in and drink in the leather. They know their art...

WOW 2010

2010-08-26T21:29:00.001+12:45

Kanugi Kodama- back detail

Well August is just about shot to pieces and that means September is nigh, which brings the calendar into sharp focus for me because... yes it's Wearable Art month. I have my 17th piece in show this year. And I can't tell you ANYTHING about it except that it was inspired by a New Zealand Author's excellent novel. I can't show you pictures, I can't tell you what I made it out of because it would spoil the show otherwise. But I CAN tell you that once the show opens I will plaster it all over my blog! So you'll have to wait until the 23rd September.

In the meantime I can show you some working drawings (because I think it is always interesting to see the process) and photo of my piece from last year- Kanugi Kodama which will be on display at the Welllington Botanical Gardens (in the Treehouse) during the Spring Festival.

There are often a few pieces of wearable art around the Capital in shop windows where you can see pieces up close and personal which is a fantastic opportunity to see how things have been made and out of what- especially if you are thinking of entering the show yourself. Kanugi Kodama was made from recyled kimonos from 'Made in Nippon' on Courtenay Place. I'll also be showing how I made it on the Good Morning Show- so keep watching TV1 on Tuesdays around 9.30am from September 7th.

Kanugi Kodama- working drawings

Kanugi Kodama- photo courtesy of WOW

Fabo again!

2010-08-23T15:46:00.000+12:45

Well the secret is out...it was me who was the mystery author for last week. We got a good response from fabo kids all over NZ vying for the top prize- which is the one featured here- a signed egg carton bull terrier with snappable jaws (read the story) and a copy of my book 'Glory' and a badge went to Andy Xie; read his story here. 8year old Georgia Fyfe from Maungawhau Primary won the junior section 8 and her story is here.

Get your kids involved- all they have to do is read the chapters to date a feel for the story and write the next installment by Friday- email it to us and they could win books and other cool prizes.

The best 5 writers at the end of the fabostory experiment win mentorship with one of 9 new Zealand Children's Book authors (us). We have prizes for juniors (7-10) and seniors (11-13). High school students are out of the running and so are adults masquerading as talented kids. We are after NZ's next generation of writers!

I want to say a huge personal thank you to Gavin Bishop who illustrated my chapter with a very fine 'frozen' Pit Bull. Each week a famous New Zealand Illustrator heads a chapter. How lucky are we?!

Biting news

2010-08-18T15:40:00.001+12:45

In the absence of anything very much to report this week (prizes, publishing deals, general fame and fortune), here's a picture from the archives. I did it for an advertising campaign a few years ago- for a cabling company...all about large Cat cables. It's on canvas and it's BIG- A1 sized on a white background. It is also for sale.

Lianzas

2010-08-15T23:55:00.000+12:45

So...it's the LIANZA awards tonight and Glory is shortlisted and it would certainly be a touch of Glory irony if I got the Esther Glen so I am not writing an acceptance speech, but AM looking forward to to dinner with all my writing peers, to good times, old times and new times to come. I'm completely honoured to be there, thankyou the librarians of NZ... mwah xxxx

Fifi who?

2010-08-08T20:14:00.009+12:45

There are sometimes great benefits for having an unusual first name. Fifi is not really my given name; I was christened Fiona in a grand Scottish tradition, but have been known as Fifi ever since I tried pronouncing the former as a toddler. I was convinced that I was the only Fifi who was a children’s book illustrator…that is up until a week ago, when Dianne from Nelson contacted me, because of, simply, my name.

“I have a painting by a Fifi Wynn-Williams. It came from my husband's aunt Meg Everton and I even have the bowl to go with it. I am pretty sure it was painted before 1970 but how much before I don't know.

There is also a children's book called 'Mr Moa' by F Wynn-William given to Meg's mother with the author's complements in 1946. There is also a manuscript for a book called 'The Wonderland of Mr Moa' but I don't know who wrote or illustrated it. Meg may have written it but it's in child's handwriting so must have been a long time ago as she just died aged 90. Meg was a well known teacher and Ardmore Training College lecturer in Auckland.

The manuscript and book are accompanied by a letter from Heinemann Educational Books (NZ) Ltd dated 1976 saying they are sorry they can't publish the manuscript or republish the book (ah…does nothing change 70 years later?)

The Mr Moa book has an article from the NZ Woman's Weekly stuck to the inside cover from 1946 written by a Count Etienne Micard. He is agreeing with 2 men who protested about the V&A museum in London showing Picasso's "crazy-guying of Mankind". He says "all the praise and clatter around Picasso's 'surrealism' can only be explained by the Western world's decadence." (!)

There is also a sentence that has been underlined and 'Fifi' written in the margin:

"I wonder if the man in the street would hesitate between the odd naked bodies of Maoris on the wall of the Public Library in Auckland , for instance, and the charming faces of the children in a Shortland Street studio which remind one of Raphael's Jesus?"

Well, we are burning up to know who this other fabulous Fifi is. Can anyone elucidate?

Gorillas?!

2010-08-02T16:43:00.001+12:45

Miranda & Giles as I envisage them

We have our first FaBo winners and our next chapter up...

go check it out!

Fabo is live!

2010-07-21T12:39:00.000+12:45

The first chapter is up!

Now the fun begins... check out how Kiwi kids can participate in the first NZ online writing competition side by side with published, award winning NZ writers

many thanks to Mike Greenfield, designer extraordinaire for our Fabo blog!

Tueday Poem- Honesty

2010-07-13T11:13:00.006+12:45

Velvet

Sometimes poems just arrive from conversations- FaceBook is my favourite place; a freelancer’s version of standing round the water cooling, having fun and gossiping.

I put the word ‘honesty’ up yesterday as a status- inspired by Tali Landisman’s notes - she writes amazing truthful, belly hitting stuff that inspires and makes you think. She's also a very successful international artist. (I tried to post one of her paintings as my header today but the upload function on blogger was being less than smooth this morning. I'll try later.)

Then people made it into an alphabet game with the following words: integrity, jalapeno, kilobyte, louche, marzipan, nuance, oligarchy, possibility, quiet, quick, quack questions, renunciation, silly people, trip over, uvula, winsome, xylophone and finally zulu. Ray Neilson from Florida said ‘The next thing is to write a poem or prose using these words.’ So I said, ‘Go on then!’ and he did. Here it is, fun on a Tuesday with words contributed from all over the world.

Honestly, your question of my integrity is like a jalapeno in a chocolate chip cookie. There is none, not even a kilobyte of truth in your louche comment. You do not know the difference between fried eggs and marzipan. Without the understanding of the nuance of life, which you feel is under the control of the oligarchy of a few privileged people, you can't see the possibility of a few quite,quick minded people that rejects the quacks and questions but asks for the renunciation of you silly people that often trip over your uvula that you feel is velvet coated. Your winsome attitude is like a tribal beat on a crude xylophone in a Zulu ceremony. I would debate you but that is akin to arm wrestling with a paraplegic.

Bravo Ray!

People in glass booths sometimes should be stoned...

2010-07-10T15:07:00.000+12:45

My sister arrived at Wellington airport last week to help me celebrate my birthday. We hugged and kissed and gossiped all the way to the machine where you pay for your parking. We laughed at our attempts to put one note after another into the slot to find we were putting it in the wrong one. Out came the change when we finally got it right and I made sure we scooped that up and on we went chatting to the car, wheelie bag in hand, delighted to see each other, when…

‘Oh crap, the ticket!’ I said, dread coursing through me colder than the wind (and it WAS cold). I rushed helplessly and hopefully to the machine to see if the ticket by any miracle of a benevolent God was still there. But all I saw was a happy smiling guy walking away from it, looking like he couldn’t believe his $3 luck. My sister laughed, but I didn’t, because this could only mean one awful thing.; a trip to the ticket booth, and a conversation with the duty manager ensconced within.

Walking to the booth has much the same feeling as walking to the gallows after committing a heinous crime. It doesn’t matter that you have paid your parking fee, you are presumed guilty before you start; your head is full of how you will hold yourself, the tone of voice you will use, the smiles and puppy dog eyes you might employ to have them pity you and raise that barrier arm. I might have done fairly well with that strategy, except my sister accompanied me, and well, she’d had a long hard week in the corporate world and was in no mood to be jerked around. There were two people in the booth; a long lean studenty sort of lad and a small spikey woman in a puffer jacket perched on a stool looking like she’d spent her shift plotting how to have her husband whacked for his adultery. I think she’d got to figuring out the hit man rate when we arrived.

It went like this:

Me: (smiling and looking sheepish) Hi, I’ve done a silly thing- I paid for my parking ticket two minutes ago and I think I left it in the machine.’

Studenty Lad: So what actually happened?

Sister: We tried to put the money in the machine and there’s no clear slot for it!

Studenty Lad: so you tried to put the money in?

Me: Yes, we were confused at first, but we finally found the right slot and paid $3

Sister: And it didn’t give us a ticket!

Me: Well it might have but we didn’t see it come out; we were busy chatting...

Spikey Puffer: (fast and nasty) Well there’ll be a missing ticket charge then (btw this is around $30)

Me: (smile falls) But we paid already! I can’t afford that- my husband’s been out of work for over a year and I have none either! We are broke! (giving her more info than she needs and suddenly aware of the very nice jacket I was wearing that I bought in a sale 2 years ago but how was she to know that it wasn’t this year’s full priced one)

Sister: (hands on hips) And I’ve come all the way from Auckland for her birthday and we don’t need this!

Studenty Boy: Look, we’ll just see if…

Spikey Puffer: They’ll need to pay.

Me: Noooo!

Sister: Bloody Hell!

Spikey Puffer: Don’t you swear at me!

Studenty Lad: (to Spikey) Shut up!

Spikey Puffer: (ignoring him) It will teach them to be more careful.

Sister: We just want to get to her birthday dinner (which was at home cooked by my son not at Martin Bosley’s but how would Spikey Puffer know that?) and now you are just being bloody vindictive.

Spikey Puffer: You keep swearing at me and I’ll keep you here all night.

Me: Noooo!

Studenty Lad: You paid you say?

Me & Sister: Yes! We told you that. We just left the ticket by mistake.

Spikey Puffer:Thats what happens when you aren't being careful.

Me: (now indignant) Look, I come to this airport heaps to pick up people- I made a mistake one time, I know how to be careful. Don’t treat me like a child!

Sister: (nostrils flaring) Yeah, where’s your bloody compassion?

Almost scuffle as Spikey Puffer and sister start towards the barred glass partition ready to tear each other from limb to limb. Studenty Lad bravely places himself between them.

Studenty Lad: Let’s have a look on the monitor, 5 minutes ago did you say?

And up comes video tape of everyone who had paid at the machine in the last day- scrolls through and finds us laughing over putting the money in the wrong slot and the eureka moment when we put in the right one.

Studenty Lad: O.K, so clearly you paid, so I can give you a new ticket. Here you go, and have a lovely birthday.

Me & Sister: Thankyou, YOU have been most helpful (daggers looks at Spikey) Have a good evening.

Spikey Puffer: And next time, be more careful.

If I hadn’t wanted to get away for my birthday dinner, I would have reached through that booth…

Made with Love

2010-07-08T20:19:00.002+12:45


from 'The Snow Queen'

I would love to illustrate a story by Melinda Syzmanik- here it is on Smories- have a listen, tell me what you think.

Melinda is a fantastic writer- she has a certain view that conjours up for an illustrator the most amazing images. I see in this one the gingerbread woman and the snowman out there, hearts melting... yum (illustration gluttony!) in that wonderful European style I so loved in my first ever picture book I remember being able to read 'all by myself' 'The Silver Thimble Story Book' (illustration above!) by Rie Cramer.

The difficulty with illustrating a book so deliciously is that one needs a publisher first who is then happy to have you both work together on it. The next hurdle is to 'buy' yourself time to do it justice. Six months usually. I am open to the idea of a patron...just saying...

Made with Love, by Melinda Syzmanik

FaBo Press Release!!!!

2010-07-07T15:20:00.004+12:45

9 Mad Writers. 1 Crazy Story. No Idea What Happens Next.

A team of New Zealand children’s writers have a crazy idea for a story and they want children to help them write it.

On the 21st of July - a wacky Wednesday - the story opens with the first chapter of a junior fiction novel being posted on the FaBo story website.

Then the fun begins. New Zealand children are being invited to write the next chapter, at the same time as one of the FaBo story writers, and send it to the FaBo Team. The winning kid’s chapter will be posted side by side with the FaBo Team’s version.

Each week New Zealand kids can write the next chapter, while the Fabo story team tries to out-write them and take control of what will be a wild and crazy plot.

Kyle Mewburn, FaBo story team leader, said ‘On week 1 - Writer A writes chapter 1. In week 2 - Writer B writes chapter 2 and completely messes up Writer A's original idea (while cackling gleefully and rubbing evil little hands together). In week 3 - Writer C takes the story off into a completely different direction altogether (while cackling gleefully etc).

There will be competitions, prizes and ideas stolen.

Kids can write as part of school or library teams or on their own.

The FaBo Story website opens 21st July @ www.fabostory.blogspot.com

All details will be up on the website in time for the start of term 3 of the school year.

The name FaBo was chosen as short for Facebook as the writers initially discussed the idea in a facebook discussion.

The FaBo Team want the story finished by Christmas. ‘We’ll need a nice lie down by then,’ said Team Member Maureen. ‘We’re up against New Zealand kids, it’s going to be tough!’

The writers are spread around New Zealand geographically.

Kyle Mewburn is in Central Otago. Michele Powles is in Dunedin. In Wellington,
Fifi Colston, Fleur Beale and Maureen Crisp.

Auckland have four writers in the team, Melinda Szymanik, Brian Falkner, Kathy White and Tania Hutley.

For the FaBo story writing team, email here

Tuesday Poem- Getting Dressed

2010-06-29T12:43:00.001+12:45

When I use pictures rather than words- does this consitute a poem? Words for me are another medium to paint by, and sometimes I find difficulty expressing my thoughts in any other way than with a visual image. This is one from my diary.

Artist for Sale

2010-06-26T12:36:00.001+12:45

Have a trawl through the links at the top of my page- it tells you about what I do, what I love and what I want to do more of: essentially creating stuff. I draw, I paint, I write, I make things and talk about them in an entertaining way. I've always thought that if you are given a talent in this life, be it with numbers, music, healing, art (everyone has a talent- sometimes its just that you can listen and not judge), you must use it. To do otherwise is a waste of the gifts that have been bestowed on you by your genes, or your gods. This is why I do what I do and don't work stacking shelves in a supermarket- I have no talent for that; I am too short by half and I'd just want to make groovy pyramid patterns from the tins. I'd love to be philanthropic but I'm the breadwinner in our household, therefore....

So I can honour my gifts; pass on my website address to everyone you know who might have artwork they need done, an illustrated talk they'd love to have, some creative writing they'd like to have ghost written perhaps, and help me to keep generating myself in the world as who I am. Much love to all my followers xxx

www.fificolston.com

and then there are these...

2010-06-25T00:13:00.000+12:45

More from the archives- I thoroughly enjoyed doing these pics for Hugh; his stories are very entertaining and a wonderful trip down memory lane as a small boy in Northern Ireland all the way across to here, the characters he met on the way, the guiding he did and the tall tales and quite true...

I mind one time...

2010-06-23T17:30:00.001+12:45

Here's a little montage of some pencil pics I did for a book of fishing memoirs that has yet to be published- Hugh is getting fed up waiting so if you are of a mind to publish a written book complete with pics- it's a great read from Ireland to NZ!

Tuesday Poem- Fantasy Island

2010-06-22T15:14:00.001+12:45

I have a ‘significant’ birthday coming up in a week or so- I don’t have any particular worries about saying what it is. I want people to either exclaim ‘My God, how does she keep looking so young?’ or ‘My God, I can’t believe we have another how many years of her hyperactivity left? can we book her into the Rita Angus now and she can run the craft program whilst she waits for a room!’

In reality most will say ‘Oh no, everyone knows I went to school with her/ is my little sister and now the ageist cat is out of my wrinkled bag.’

Too bad gals- it was a good year and we should celebrate! But… that brings me to my only real concern about reaching the half century. Due to the recession and the fact that I’ve pigeon holed myself into a creative career that has plenty to do with fame but not a lot to do with money, the celebrations will be extra slim. It seems nothing much has changed over the years- I wrote this poem for Next Magazine in 2000 and it was just the same then. Dang! I have changed the age in the poem to more accurately reflect my age and I like to think I look even better in the fluffy slippers.

The nicest bottle of bubbly sent to me in honour of my day will recieve the original signed illustration sealed with a kiss. How good is that?

Fantasy Island

For my 50th birthday,

I’d always had it planned,

That I’d spend it on an island

With Dom Perignon in hand.

Lying in a lounger

On a beach with my two sisters,

I’d gossip, drink and toast myself

‘till I broke out in large blisters.

Gorgeous boys, just half our age

Would serve us mangoes sweet,

Then rub our backs with suntan oil,

And massage our bare feet.

Then when the sun went down at night,

We’d put our glad rags on,

And dance away the evening

To some South Sea Island song.

But looking at my bank account,

I see my wild dreams

Involve a better income

Than my current one, it seems.

So due to dwindling credit

(And the unrest in Fiji)

I’ll pour a Lindauer at home and sing

“Happy Budget Day to me”

Tuesday Poem: Pegs

2010-06-08T12:15:00.000+12:45

Here's one from my diary...

Glory be!

2010-06-01T23:20:00.000+12:45

I am ecstatic that 'Glory' has been shortlisted for the Esther Glen Award in

the LIANZA Prestigious Children's Book Awards for 2010.

Many thanks to the judges- you have made my year!

Craft 2.0

2010-05-26T15:07:00.001+12:45

A little promo here for Craft 2.0 coming up on June 12th at The New Dowse in Lower Hutt, from 10am-3pm where I'll be selling cute plaster Cup Cakes surrounded by talented crafters with groovy things to buy. If you've never been to one of these, then GO! There are brilliant handmade, totally gorgeous and clever things there you just won't find anywhere else. You can buy real cupcakes to devour (yum!) and there is a fab cafe at the Dowse plus of course exhibitions. And something the knitters have been making is a decorated tree outside the gallery. This came from an idea mooted on the crafters' chat and has sprung up and grown just a great creative tree should!

A great day out and if you forget to take enough cash there is a clever facility called craft cash where you can eftpos say, $20 and get it as a token to spend at any of the stalls because us crafter don't all have visa card facilities and you don't always have folding stuff on you for that one last amazing retro inspired handmade card, funky baby bib or beautiful laser cut and screenprinted brooch...

See you there!

NZPost Book Awards & Magical Pens

2010-05-21T16:14:00.006+12:45

After a miserable week where anything and everything that could go wrong did, I took myself off to the New Zealand Post children’s Book Awards in Auckland to have a free drink or three and celebrate my peer’s rise to the stage with their hard won books in hand.

At this point I have to say that my going there was in doubt; not because I didn’t get an invite- past judges get a lifetime ticket, but because this year has been fiscally tricky and I was in lockdown mode on the visa card. Scarcity does terrible things to your head and heart, but my good and talented friend Tania Roxborogh, shortlisted for YA Fiction with the fantastic exploration into Macbeths world, Banquos Son, called me and said ‘$49 fares- I’ll lend you the money if you haven’t got it and you can stay in my hotel room.’

There is nothing like the generosity of others to pull you up short and so I graciously accepted the bed and refused the loan- $100 isn’t so hard to find when you need to, and Creative New Zealand had furnished me with a book voucher for the same because I spent a bit of on-line time to help with their customer web survey (thanks CNZ!) I'm sure one equals the other.

So off I went and drank with my colleagues at the Town Hall which was beautifully mid winter themed with giant ice crystals. On each table were a fine array of nibbles, wine and gorgeous little gingerbread Christmas trees individually boxed for each guest- oh and a clever biro that had a pull out scroll with magical storyline starters. Somehow I have ended up with three…

Miriama Kamo was the MC for the night and I have to say, she is even more elegant and lovely in real life than on the telly- plus she has great warmth and sense of humour which came into play when her husband was pulled up on stage by her as an unexpected (by him) aid to the tricky steps that Margaret Mahy and at least 3 others nearly tumbled down. Note to organisers: never clad steps in white foam with rounded edges- looks like snow, acts like ice.

And so to the awards themselves after the necessary speeches (oh …we did miss John Allen but then he’s a tough act to follow in any quarter). By now you will have seen the full list and if not here it is.

I won’t go into each one except to say that I was personally thrilled Old Hu-hu won the Picture Book Category and indeed Book of the Year. I’m delighted because it is a great story which explains death and questions of afterlife in a unique way with Kyle Mewburn’s excellent wordplay and timing. But even more so (sorry Kyle, but I’m an illustrator at heart) because of Rachel Driscoll’s astounding illustrations and her partner Michael Greenfield’s design work. Scholastic put some budget into the book production -hard cover, satin finish, to die for end papers… and the combination of all of these things made for a totally exquisite package, which is what excellence in this genre is all about. The best of writing, illustration, design and production. I haven’t got there myself at all- nowhere near it, and one might think in the face of such talents, the mediocre would give up (o.k I’m not rubbish, but I’m aware that some of my stuff lacks effort…)

So it both surprised and delighted me that sitting in the airport lounge with a hangover, and using the NZPost pen, I wrote my first picture book (I either illustrate other author’s efforts or write novels). It’s just the bare bones and I have made a commitment to myself that if I ever wander into the picture book arena again, I will only produce excellence in all the above mentioned areas. I think it has potential and part of me sighs, because I know it will take months of work to get it to a standard that satisfies me let alone anyone else. But I’m inspired and excited; my cash might be scarce, but my passion is not. And that’s what the awards are for- encouragement to aim higher than you think you can and surprise yourself…

Tuesday Poem- Sinful Indulgences

2010-05-18T12:56:00.002+12:45

Sinful Indulgences

I worry about my addictions,

(But only from time to time)

Usually when I'm skin full of gin,

Or overly wobbly with wine.

Casting away back to childhood,

I wonder, 'When did it begin?'

The weakness I have for indulgence,

Devout people label as sin.

Did I discover malt whiskey,

Along with Big Ears and Noddy,

When trying to cure my cough was I given,

Just one too many hot toddy?

But it's not only spirits and bubbly,

To which I just cannot say 'no',

By nine thirty a.m. I'm having the shakes,

For my caffeine fix; double espresso.

Still, mainlining coffee is nothing,

Compared to my worst vice of all,

It's costly to keep feeding this one,

And answer its primitive call.

I have to confess that the habit,

Has something to do with leather;

Buckles and straps (most often in black),

Not comfortable- well hardly ever.

And when I fuel my desire,

The guilt and shame scorches me through,

But it's worth all the pain and the overdraft,

To step out in a fashionable shoe.

For more Tuesday poems and my editors pick for this week click on the quill on the top right of my blog!