Tuesday Poem- Getting Dressed

When I use pictures rather than words- does this consitute a poem?  Words for me are another medium to paint by, and sometimes I find difficulty expressing my thoughts in any other way than with a visual image. This is one from my diary.

Artist for Sale

Have a trawl through the links at the top of my page- it tells you about what I do, what I love and what I want to do more of: essentially creating stuff. I draw, I paint, I write, I make things and talk about them in an entertaining way. I've always thought that if you are given a talent in this life, be it with numbers, music, healing, art (everyone has a talent- sometimes its just that you can listen and not judge), you must use it. To do otherwise is a waste of the gifts that have been bestowed on you by your genes, or your gods. This is why I do what I do and don't work stacking shelves in a supermarket- I have no talent for that; I am too short by half and I'd just want to make groovy pyramid patterns from the tins. I'd love to be philanthropic but I'm the breadwinner in our household, therefore....

So I can honour my gifts; pass on my website address to everyone you know who might have artwork they need done, an illustrated talk they'd love to have, some creative writing they'd like to have ghost written perhaps, and help me to keep generating myself in the world as who I am. Much love to all my followers xxx

www.fificolston.com

and then there are these...

More from the archives- I thoroughly enjoyed doing these pics for Hugh; his stories are very entertaining and a wonderful trip down memory lane as a small boy in Northern Ireland all the way across to here, the characters he met on the way, the guiding he did and the tall tales and quite true...

I mind one time...

Here's a little montage of some pencil pics I did for a book of fishing memoirs that has yet to be published- Hugh is getting fed up waiting so if you are of a mind to publish a written book complete with pics- it's a great read from Ireland to NZ!

Tuesday Poem- Fantasy Island

I have a ‘significant’ birthday coming up in a week or so- I don’t have any particular worries about saying what it is. I want people to either exclaim ‘My God, how does she keep looking so young?’ or ‘My God, I can’t believe we have another how many years of her hyperactivity left? can we book her into the Rita Angus now and she can run the craft program whilst she waits for a room!’

In reality most will say ‘Oh no, everyone knows I went to school with her/ is my little sister and now the ageist cat is out of my wrinkled bag.’

Too bad gals- it was a good year and we should celebrate! But… that brings me to my only real concern about reaching the half century. Due to the recession and the fact that I’ve pigeon holed myself into a creative career that has plenty to do with fame but not a lot to do with money, the celebrations will be extra slim. It seems nothing much has changed over the years- I wrote this poem for Next Magazine in 2000 and it was just the same then. Dang! I have changed the age in the poem to more accurately reflect my age and I like to think I look even better in the fluffy slippers. 

The nicest bottle of bubbly sent to me in honour of my day will recieve the original signed illustration sealed with a kiss. How good is that?

 

Fantasy Island

For my 50th birthday,

I’d always had it planned,

That I’d spend it on an island

With Dom Perignon in hand.

Lying in a lounger

On a beach with my two sisters,

I’d gossip, drink and toast myself

‘till I broke out in large blisters.

Gorgeous boys, just half our age

Would serve us mangoes sweet,

Then rub our backs with suntan oil,

And massage our bare feet.

Then when the sun went down at night,

We’d put our glad rags on,

And dance away the evening

To some South Sea Island song.

But looking at my bank account,

I see my wild dreams

Involve a better income

Than my current one, it seems.

So due to dwindling credit

(And the unrest in Fiji)

I’ll pour a Lindauer at home and sing

“Happy Budget Day to me”

Tuesday Poem: Pegs

Here's one from my diary...

Glory be!

I am ecstatic that 'Glory' has been shortlisted for the Esther Glen Award in 

the LIANZA Prestigious Children's Book Awards for 2010. 

Many thanks to the judges- you have made my year!

Craft 2.0

A little promo here for Craft 2.0 coming up on June 12th at The New Dowse in Lower Hutt, from 10am-3pm where I'll be selling cute plaster Cup Cakes surrounded by talented crafters with groovy things to buy. If you've never been to one of these, then GO! There are brilliant handmade, totally gorgeous and clever things there you just won't find anywhere else. You can buy real cupcakes to devour (yum!) and there is a fab cafe at the Dowse plus of course exhibitions. And something the knitters have been making is a decorated tree outside the gallery. This came from an idea mooted on the crafters' chat and has sprung up and grown just a great creative tree should!

A great day out and if you forget to take enough cash there is a clever facility called craft cash where you can eftpos say, $20 and get it as a token to spend at any of the stalls because us crafter don't all have visa card facilities and you don't always have folding stuff on you for that one last amazing retro inspired handmade card, funky baby bib or beautiful laser cut and screenprinted brooch...

See you there!

NZPost Book Awards & Magical Pens

After a miserable week where anything and everything that could go wrong did, I took myself off to the New Zealand Post children’s Book Awards in Auckland to have a free drink or three and celebrate my peer’s rise to the stage with their hard won books in hand.

At this point I have to say that my going there was in doubt; not because I didn’t get an invite- past judges get a lifetime ticket, but because this year has been fiscally tricky and I was in lockdown mode on the visa card. Scarcity does terrible things to your head and heart, but my good and talented friend Tania Roxborogh, shortlisted for YA Fiction with the fantastic exploration into Macbeths world, Banquos Son, called me and said ‘$49 fares- I’ll lend you the money if you haven’t got it and you can stay in my hotel room.’

There is nothing like the generosity of others to pull you up short and so I graciously accepted the bed and refused the loan- $100 isn’t so hard to find when you need to, and Creative New Zealand had furnished me with a book voucher for the same because I spent a bit of on-line time to help with their customer web survey (thanks CNZ!) I'm sure one equals the other.

So off I went and drank with my colleagues at the Town Hall which was beautifully  mid winter themed with giant ice crystals. On each table were a fine array of nibbles, wine and gorgeous little gingerbread Christmas trees individually boxed for each guest- oh and a clever biro that had a pull out scroll with magical storyline starters. Somehow I have ended up with three…

Miriama Kamo was the MC for the night and I have to say, she is even more elegant and lovely in real life than on the telly- plus she has great warmth and sense of humour which came into play when her husband was pulled up on stage by her as an unexpected (by him) aid to the tricky steps that Margaret Mahy and at least 3 others nearly tumbled down. Note to organisers: never clad steps in white foam with rounded edges- looks like snow, acts like ice.

And so to the awards themselves after the necessary speeches (oh …we did miss John Allen but then he’s a tough act to follow in any quarter).  By now you will have seen the full list and if not here it is.

I won’t go into each one except to say that I was personally thrilled Old Hu-hu won the Picture Book Category and indeed Book of the Year. I’m delighted because it is a great story which explains death and questions of afterlife in a unique way with Kyle Mewburn’s  excellent wordplay and timing. But even more so (sorry Kyle, but I’m an illustrator at heart) because of Rachel Driscoll’s astounding illustrations and her partner Michael Greenfield’s design work. Scholastic put some budget into the book production -hard cover, satin finish, to die for end papers… and the combination of all of these things made for a totally exquisite package, which is what excellence in this genre is all about. The best of writing, illustration, design and production.  I haven’t got there myself at all- nowhere near it, and one might think in the face of such talents, the mediocre would give up (o.k I’m not rubbish, but I’m aware that some of my stuff lacks effort…)

So it both surprised and delighted me that sitting in the airport lounge with a hangover, and using the NZPost pen, I wrote my first picture book (I either illustrate other author’s efforts or write novels). It’s just the bare bones and I have made a commitment to myself that if I ever wander into the picture book arena again, I will only produce excellence in all the above mentioned areas. I think it has potential and part of me sighs, because I know it will take months of work to get it to a standard that satisfies me let alone anyone else. But I’m inspired and excited; my cash might be scarce, but my passion is not. And that’s what the awards are for- encouragement to aim higher than you think you can and surprise yourself…

Tuesday Poem- Sinful Indulgences

Sinful Indulgences

I worry about my addictions,

(But only from time to time)

Usually when I'm skin full of gin,

Or overly wobbly with wine.

Casting away back to childhood,

I wonder, 'When did it begin?'

The weakness I have for indulgence,

Devout people label as sin.

Did I discover malt whiskey,

Along with Big Ears and Noddy,

When trying to cure my cough was I given,

Just one too many hot toddy?

But it's not only spirits and bubbly,

To which I just cannot say 'no',

By nine thirty a.m. I'm having the shakes,

For my caffeine fix; double espresso.

Still, mainlining coffee is nothing,

Compared to my worst vice of all,

It's costly to keep feeding this one,

And answer its primitive call.

I have to confess that the habit,

Has something to do with leather;

Buckles and straps (most often in black),

Not comfortable- well hardly ever.

And when I fuel my desire,

The guilt and shame scorches me through,

But it's worth all the pain and the overdraft,

To step out in a fashionable shoe.

For more Tuesday poems and my editors pick for this week click on the quill on the top right of my blog!