Posts tagged art
Playroom and Studio 2.0

Aaah, remember my lovely studio? It was so clean and tidy and beautiful, no?

Uh, yeah.  It quickly turning into dumping ground 101.  

Here's the thing about working at home with 3 children under 5: Wherever you are - they are.  I spent so much time running up and down the stairs, carting yarn here and there, that I never really used my studio.  In those moments when the babies were both asleep and E was occupied, one of 2 things would happen:

- My working upstairs would wake them

- Ellis hollering for me as I was not downstairs and he needed his 200th drink/snack/conversation of the day would wake them.

So a reshuffle took place over the weekend and the playroom became our shared work/play space.  The upstairs still has the sewing equiptment and stores much of the non-working yarn, but my new work space in the heart of the activity means that I can work while they play near by.

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The centrepiece of the room is our old coffee table, transformed by several coats of eggshell paint and two play panels - one Duplo and one blackboard.  The table is originally from ikea and has always been a great coffee/playtable for the children so I am glad to have rescued it out from under the TV. 





Most of the toys are hidden out of the way in the bookcase with the ikea fabric curtain.  


My favourite bits are the imporvised car garage from a spice rack, the wagon "shelf" serving dual purpose as fire surround and bookshelf and the beautiful Sylvia Woodford wall hanging


And of course the fairy lights, because who doesn't like to work by their twinkling glow?



Art Takes All Shapes

painting with children

art with toddlers


Georgia wants to paint or colour all day long.  She will go through page after page of paper.  However, markers and crayons have to be counted in and out, in the same way narcotics are controlled at hospitals, lest we end up with contemporary art at knee level.

Ellis has less interest.  He likes to pour all of the paint out of the bottles into huge swirly puddles, preferably covering toy cars in the mess. All of his "pictures" he brings home from nursery are just blobs and scribbles, not unlike those of a few years ago.

However, his attention remained fixed for over an hour as we transformed an old table.

He told me later he wanted to be a painter. "But not a silly artist one. A serious one. I want to paint houses and walls".

He will be his father's death.





I don't really want to talk.  Or cook. Or write. Or wipe noses or floors, do the dishes, play "choo choo", read stories, sing songs, go to playgroups or to the park.  I do not want to make play dough or cake or dinner or lunch or breakfast or second breakfast.  I do not want to pay the bills or listen to the crying.  I do not want to give baths or brush hair or change nappies or tackle the mountain of laundry.

The interuptions that come at 5 minute intervals send me snappy and on edge.  I wish I could say that the 6,000 lego spaceship of the day was more interesting than a new design or the need of a 10 month old to be held all day long was as fufilling.

But, its not.  They aren't.  

I love them.  I love their little noses and blue eyes.  I love their funny laughs and their messy hair.  The way Georgia says "Thchoo -Thchoo" instead of "Choo Choo".  The way Ellis says "I got it from my brain" when congratulated on a good idea.  The way Theo gives open mouth kisses on demand.  I love them so much...

But the constant pull is there.  I want to be with them, but I want to be working or not even working, just doing something else. Something that is wholly me and not someone else.

And then, that means that I end up doing most things badly.  Half-attention and stolen moments are not the way to do anything well from designs to laundry.

And so today, I will not be working.  I will put it down and draw a line under it so that the talking, cooking, writing, wiping of noses and floors, doing of the dishes, playing "choo choos", the washing of laundry and all of the other things I *need* to do can get done well and without shouting or crying... we've run out of underwear.


*pictured: Texere Chunky Wool