small beings - pictures and words

Her Stem does not come from her feet, rather her hair grows down her back, down down in an ever more fragile spun silk plait, with a wisp. When I place her hands to hands with her mother, she murmurs 'mama touch my hair to the ground, there with I grow'

To notice humanity reflected in a sea ravished twisted twig is no fallacy

and she grew out of a mermaid's purse, still soft and wet from the stormy sea

drawing growing becoming crystals 

I knit my own rainbow beard, I create and am created

dancing the whimsy with my rose bud baby

in the middle of the night these smiles came through my hands and brought joy to the bedspread of a feverish child

when you raise my shell ear with your fingertips I am mist pulling backwards, there decay is merely change and life is everlasting 

the stroke of an early morning waterfall 

when i was little my mummy's dresser had many many teapots that she used to hide her little chocolate treats, and presents awaiting birthdays and christmas, that were then often forgotten..these little blue girls were inspired by a collections of small blue teapots, my memories of my mother's teapots and the story of 'Little Blue' by Gaye Chapman 

for love

dust to dust, breath, redemption, the heart and soul of a french garden teapot becoming a baker's house a little patisserie 

to be green grass joy