Word of the Week - 79

All illustrations by Wolf Erlbruch.

Word of the Week:  CREATURES

"Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty."    Albert Einstein

As I wrote this over the weekend, I believe experts are still trying to find again, then free a blue whale off the coast of Los Angeles who became tangled in fishing line.  To see the aerial footage of this 75-foot example of Earth's largest creature in our local waters is a remarkable experience, even from the comfort of the living room.  The rescue team admits they have no blue whale experience, they don't know what the response may be to divers swimming close.

Hopping from nature to the world of art, I am enchanted by those who turn to the animal, insect, etc. kingdoms for inspiration.  Last winter I found the work of felting artist Celestine and the Hare, her creatures and her humor which now brighten every day of my life.  The list of illustrators who have charmed me over a lifetime would take days to compile.  For now, I'll share the art of Wolf Erlbruch whose animals and others bring joy.   Mister Finch creates arachnids and lepidoptera of unusual size to help populate our imaginations.  Ceramic artist Midori Takaki has mastered the art of tapirs and softly-glazed polar bears.

I marvel at the ways in which the world can be both large and small simultaneously.  The great blue whale and the statistic that perhaps only 5% of ocean life has even been identified, side by side with great silliness in a tiny package.  Fall in love with as much as possible.  It is all so miraculous.

The felted art of Celestine and the Hare made weasel a household word.

A moth in vintage fabric from Mister Finch.

Ceramic tapirs by Midori Takaki.

Word of the Week - 52

The first year milestone for WotW on the blog, so I'm giving myself the nod for consistency.  Hey.  Now, on to important matters.

Beloved felted creatures from Celestine and the Hare.

Word of the Week:  NARRATIVE

noun, 1. a story or account of events, experiences, or the like, whether true or fictitious.

 

In the land of narrative, I have a new hero.  Her name is Karin, artist/proprietor at Celestine and the Hare.  She not only creates the most heartful, soulful felted creatures in her shed in Wales, she narrates (and shows in photos and videos) the goings-on in her world.  It is a place of humor, magic and fantasy which, given a choice, I would prefer to inhabit.  We have the option of residence in both worlds, for reality does at times demand our presence, by keeping up with daily reports from the shed and environs via Karin's Facebook page.

Even though it was a scant few months ago that I first discovered the wonders of those who "Live Norty" and "Swear Like a Panda," I don't remember exactly how I first encountered this delightful realm.  It was not long before Christmas, that much I know.  My sister and I laughed often over the carryings-on of, in particular, the norty (translate: naughty) weasels who are choklit-obsessed and exceedingly norty where choklit is concerned, and others such as Mary and Emily bear.  Here is a  sample post:

Original text from Celestine and the Hare, Feb. 26, 2015:

"Ooops I posted the wrong photo in my relief! Trying again
"Oh Little Panda we were SO worried about you. Why didn't you tell someone where you were going? We didn't dare tell anyone that we didn't know where you were as they would have all been so worried too"
"I told Baby Weasus to tell you..."

"But she's only a baby and such a scatter brain and she forgot and we were so worried and we had posters made and Jackie looking there and us looking here and we were so worried. You were gone such a long time! Where were you?"
"Well, you see I got a story out of Emily's library called the Elves and the Shoemaker and I did love it and I saw that Jackie was really really busy trying to do lots of colouring in for her book and write a new book too and she works ever so ever so hard and well I thought I was getting quite good at colouring in as I've been practising lots and lots and she said you need 10000 hours to get ok at something and I"ve not done it that long yet but I thought I could help a little bit here and there with the bits in the corners and sorting the paints out and changing the water and I make nice hot choklit so I thought I'd stay a little bit longer and help her just a little bit with the bits that no one would notice like the elves did with the shoes. So I told baby weasus to tell you I was staying a bit longer and would come home soon. But then I didn't realise how far it was from her house to here cos I was having a nap in the car so I got on my spacehopper and bounced home on it but it was night time by the time I got here and the shed was locked and everyone was asleep so I went into the car instead and snuggled down under the blanket on the floor of the car for the night but then in the morning she got up and drove me to the car doctors before I could get up and say and then they kept the car for aaaages cos of a light that what going on but it was ok cos the nice mechanic gave me some of his sandwiches and they have this machine where you can make hot choklit so I did that and there are loads of biscuits there in funny little packets of two which is odd cos why would anyone want only 2 biscuits so I ate all of them and then snuggled down for the night and in the morning the nice man put me in the cup holder after he had cleaned up the car and all the biscuit crumbs so she would see me when she came to get the car and here I am. And there's my space hopper too eh baby weasus?"
"oh oh Emily I remember!! Panda said he was staying a bit long er and it was a sekrit and not to worry!""

 

If Facebook will cooperate, follow the Celestine posts back to the beginning of December to become familiar with all the references, for example Baby Weasus is a small weasel from a highly innovative re-enactment of the Nativity story.  Each post charms me, as do the videos and photos, and I hope you will have a similar response.

 

The telling and inhabiting of our stories can influence the direction of our lives.  We can bring the magic of which we are made to ordinary matters, transforming our thoughts, our circumstances, our futures.  Because Karin so clearly exemplifies how we are enriched, entertained, softened, ensorcelled and brightened by the telling of extraordinary events, "true or fiction," I wanted to introduce her to any not yet familiar with her wide definition of art.

 

"What art offers is space — a certain breathing room for the spirit." ~John Updike
 

My own Norty Weasel, Gareth, greeted with choklit when he arrived as a birthday gift from my sister and brother-in-law.

 

How the weasels reinvented Christmas

The nativity, err, um nortivity, as enacted by weasels from Celestine and the Hare.

New rabbit, M. Kelly.

In the weeks leading to Christmas, I fell under the spell of a FB page called Celestine and the Hare.  Created by felting artist Karin of Monmouth, Wales, it is home to her felted creatures including a great many weasels and the stories and videos of their antics.  It seemed the antics reached a pinnacle during the holidays with an animated advent calendar and ongoing saga of the animals' attempt to stage a nativity pageant.  Karin added to my vocabulary with her words "norty" (translation: naughty), and "choklit" and "sekrits," of which there were many at this time of year.

Finding her page, looking forward each day to generously and frequently posted photos, videos and accounts of nortiness, I abandoned myself to the magic of play, of silliness and the delight of surprise as a child might experience it.  Celestine gave me a world in which I did not have to believe that Christmas wonder was solely a thing of the past.  I laughed out loud every morning and read comments from others who were doing the same.  With a lightened heart, I drew the softer rabbit (above) and began to experiment with a slightly altered illustration style.

There was emotion connected to this Christmas, welcome, warm feelings, that nearly undid me.  To take in the miracles, the magic, the quiet yet bursting gladness, demanded, still demands, stillness and sleep.  What is enormous cannot be digested quickly.  As the metaphors rage on, I have the sense of being a river reduced by drought to a narrow and turgid pretender, which suddenly gains volume and again races swiftly, reaching from bank to bank.

A dormant or possibly missing aspect of me-doing-Christmas was revived or restored, as though through elfin craftiness, by a combination of surprises and benevolence.  That renewed, low-key glee continues to require a soft tread, an avoidance of sudden, startling moves, not because I fear it will flee but to acknowledge its precious nature.  I continue to be a mystery to myself, as does the Christmas of a seriously mature adult.   So little, really, is what we once thought it to be.