Polar bear bauble

This is the little polar bear bear bauble I'll be teaching at a workshop at the lovely premises of Guthrie and Ghani, in Birmingham. 

It was the third design I tried; initially I attempted needle felting a polar bear Santa around a polystyrene ball, which I've always thought was a nasty idea and found it to be so. You may ask why then I decided to try it; because making an accurate sphere is harder than it looks, and I thought it may be an easier solution for anyone who was just starting out. The wool floated around on the surface, the head barely stuck to the wool (or the polystyrene) and although it was neat, I wasn't comfortable with that way of working.

I then ploughed my way through most of an elf fox, before realising, many hours later, that it was far too ambitious, even for an all day project.  

It's quite hard to design an appealing project, that is a bit different to everything else on offer, but which can be theoretically made in a five-six hour period by people of all abilities.

But in the end, I settled on this fairly simple little bear; there are five places left on the workshop, which runs from 10.30 until 4.30 on December 10th. You can book directly from the Guthrie and Ghani website here.

If you'd like to see the fabulous studio space and my last workshop there, please see this blogpost from November last year.

That was the week that was...

I thought it had been another so-so week filled with all day needle felting sessions, housework and the odd walk, but in retrospect, it has been rather action packed. My polar bear trio proved to be more exacting than I anticipated; trying to sculpt three almost identical white blobs is quite tricky, the simple shape brings out the worst of the perfectionist in me, and I am still tweaking infinitesimally small contours here and there.





I finally got round to designing a catalogue (well, a small poster really) for my card range. I've been a bit lazy about bothering shops recently, even the ones who've stocked me before. The first one I sent out had an immediate response, and I am really pleased that the gorgeous shop Ark of Cambridge - the Norfolk Street branch - now have a selection of my designs. I had some blushingly nice feedback from the shop manageress about the flyer, and apparently a customer spotted it, and said how beautiful all the colours were. It is good to have them all laid out like this; a bit more professional than a handful of samples and a 'please stock me' letter.




A fat little packet smuggled across the border from the mysterious Adanaland arrived in the post. Full of delightful letterpress scraps, which made me ache to have the space to get my own neglected kit out. (The adorable shire horse is printed by the Incline Press: coincidentally, Sue of Mouse Notebook has just blogged about her day printing there, with scrummy closeups of type and nice papery things - lucky sausage).





Also enclosed were another batch of 'The Travelling Urchin', produced exquisitely and lovingly by Alan Brignull, the founder and benign ruler of Adanaland - I love these little A6 treasures, and am very grateful to him for my growing collection.

It was a welcome little diversion as I plodded on with the next trio for my trade order.




Jackie of Dog Daisy Chains and Karen of Moonlight and Hares asked about RSI and stabbing myself. Ladies, it is no and yes. No, I am lucky enough not to get RSI, just tired bits when I work for more than 8 hours a day. I try to do regular carpal tunnel exercises and I have a super-duper wrist support with two thumb splints, a hand splint and padded bead palm, which really helps when I'm on a marathon session.



Stabbing, however, is a regular occurrence. I frequently hold tiny bits of felt (for instance, beaks) and stab them into hard little shapes, often driving the needle straight down into the pad of my thumb. So I'm experimenting with using two thimbles for protection. It's not as sensory as using my naked fingers, but it hurts less when the needle slips.




I've probably mentioned at least a dozen times that I don't get out much. Getting out can be a bit expensive on a narrow budget, but kind Andy whisked me off to Cotswold Wildlife Park this week, which, despite it being rammed (because of the Easter holidays) was utterly brilliant. The last big day out we had was at the Barrington ploughing match, last September. I get quite giddy with the sheer pleasure of new surroundings and experiences; I came away with my head whirring, over a hundred reference photos and two tiny glass animals...




Nobly, I have restrained myself from posting an endless line of yet-another-zoo-animal here. (Collective sighs of relief!)

BIG EDIT - I had awarded this big, sharp rhino horn to a certain large company who seem to be taking unpermitted advantage of one of Little Cotton Rabbits lovely designs. At last they seem to be responding, but I'll save my half hearted cheer for when they actually do something positive. So the rhino stays.



Oh, by the end of April I will be able to stop thinking in threes!

Spring Sunday

A Happy Mothering Sunday to all mothers out there, especially mine, wherever she is in spirit. And to all cake bakers of all kinds - this little bear was a very special commission for my friend Miskellaneous, for her mother based on her own idea - I couldn't even begin to needle felt a tiny wooden spoon, so I had the 'onerous' task of buying a doll's house one, measuring a wee 2.5 cm.



It's been such a gorgeous day, and Spring is putting a very vigorous foot forward. My walks are full of activity and surprise - this is such a lovely and accidental shot. Not lovely because of my limited camera skills, but in the natural composition of the birds, two crows mobbing a buzzard who has infringed on their nesting area. It reminds me of a Chinese print in its perfect, graphic simplicity, (due entirely to fluke). The birds on the left with the downwards wings are the crows, bravely chasing off a bird of prey three times their size, on the right.





I seem to have developed a fairly vigorous foot myself, being up at 7.30 this morning, and quietly leaving a very tired Andy sleeping, to scurry off into the fresh sunshine. Recently I've been scouring the fields for hares, and this morning I caught my first one, a big chap dozing quietly on the sun baked earth. He blended in so well, that unless you were actually looking for him, you would probably not realise he was there. Lain like this, he looks exactly like a Victorian jelly mould. Alas, my zoom, as ever, is never long enough, so do click on the picture for a closer look.




Not content with my usual trot round the village, we went up to the Barrington and Sherbourne Estates, to see what was happening there. No hares, but a large gap where a much admired something used to be...




Notice anything missing? It's my nice green metal barn, possibly considered an eyesore by some, but a favourite landmark of mine on one of our regular walks. Andy says the farm is more in keeping with the landscape now, and I daresay he is right. But I loved that old carbuncle and its faded hideous green.




Last but certainly not least, many thanks to My Bella Bleu for featuring me on her blog, I have to admit I sometimes forget I sell cards and all that, but am always highly flattered when people say such nice things about my work and she has been very kind indeed.

Going Polar

Have an inevitable snow picture.




Have another one. After Andy's nine day 'at home' holiday, we were cut off by snow. Joy. The gritters didn't come down our winding country lanes, leaving them iced over. So we were cut off, and with a 45 mile commute to work on a motorbike, he was 'at home' again, for most of the week. I'd rather he was safely at home climbing the walls then in a cold ditch with a broken neck, in spite of the general trend to tut-tut at people who didn't or couldn't get to work. Bikes and snow don't go. With the whole village confined, and delivery lorry unable to get through, our one little Co-op soon ran out of supplies. It was stripped. We managed to get one little loaf (loaves being rationed to one per customer) - the last one in the shop. And a carton of goat's milk Longlife milk. Thankfully we already had some normal UHT and the dreaded stuff remains in its box, now we are getting back to normal and have fresh. Lines must be drawn, and Longlife goat's milk is where I draw mine.




Thankfully we had plenty of wood and more than enough food. We and the cats hunkered down to sit it out. Naturally, the cats hogged the sofa. Before he went completely loopy with cabin fever, he did struggle in for the weekend rota, although because of the treacherous ice, his late Saturday night shift and early Sunday start, he had to stay overnight at the nearby, ghastly (and this one is ghastly) Travel Lodge. So I was home alone with the cats. As usual, I had plenty of things to do, not least of which was designing a prototype polar bear. A great excuse to watch my Arctic DVD and try to grasp the essentials of polar-bearness.




I was also dying to use one of the little glass bear noses I bought last year - only 8mm across at the widest point - it's the tiny black thing I've got pinned to my felting sponge up there, with my two lead bears saying hello to the white woolly blob that was the start of Petra. I wanted a really simply shape, and looked at lots of Inuit carvings - I figured they were probably the experts, and most toy bears I found were really just white teddy bears. Every bear type has distinguishing characteristics, and the challenge of the Polar is that it is deceptively easy looking. As it was, there was much adding and chopping before I finally got what I was looking for.




With a thaw setting in, at last we were able to get over to the woods, where we found evidence of Badger tramping solidly along a path. Badgers have five 'fingers' in a straight-ish row, as opposed to a dog's four pads. They walk along putting their back foot as near as possible to their front foot, so old Brock's trail looked like a two legged race.




Driven by hunger, the little Muntjac deer were down in the bluebell woods, the most walked in part of the reserve. They almost didn't care how near we were, but eventually they sloped off into the beech grove ahead.




To my unkind amusement, Andy had a slapstick moment, when he leaned on a rotten gate post which promptly collapsed under him. Unfortunately there was a large, slushy, muddy puddle just where he landed and I would be derelict in my duty if I did not share this moment with the world.




Now conditions are somewhat better and routines are almost restored; though our roads are still like ice rinks and I count the hours until Andy is safely home. Roll on Spring.