The house of dreams, magic day , art

 Experimenting with rag paper and Christmas joy. The study lamp is helpful for dinking around . I am glad I bought it , darkness is coming. Clocks fall back an hour this week end, just as we get our internal clocks regulated, the god of clocks trips us up by changing it to go backwards. 

Yesterday Sarah and I went to “Mecca”. The House Of Dreams, just an eleven minute walk from Spider-Man’s flat. 

Immediately the entrance gives you an idea that maybe this will be the most inspirational visit!

Photos allowed before entrance to the actual house, and in the garden,which look overwhelming but nothing compared to the inside. Every surface is filled all floors are mosaic , along the walls are Stephens diary entries, his word story, his reckonings, rescues of damaged unloved dolls , broken toys and ….everything! 

Sarah in the back garden path. The garden was just too much to photograph, I did not try.

It is a house for everyone, things speak to you, forgotten toys, curlers you nay have used as a teenager, clothing you may have worn as an infant. Memories held physically for as long as the items and concrete will hold. A legacy. The tile in this photo did speak to me, “ you can go back, but you can’t go home, it isn’t there anymore”.

Taking photos does not do justice to the overall experience of immersion into Stephen’s mind . Looks haphazard but when you are right into it, it flows and works on your sense of wonder, nostalgia, repurposing and love, so much love! An exercise in appreciation for lack of control in a safe accepting environment. 

Stephen and Michael only open their house six days a year, Sarah’s timing and luck could not have been more perfect.. 

then we shopped at the second hand shop across the road, Sarah bought a beautiful cashmere duster for a fiver, on we went to the flat, on the way Sarah buys a vegan pastie. In spite of being a vegan concoction she reported that it was actually very delicious.

Have a pleasant day, stay well and warm…do some art from your heart… I would love to be able to lose control on rag paper but I am stuck- years of predictability and acceptable  reserve, boring as oatmeal and hallmark. A curse upon me.