the little car that wouldn't go.......

The little car sat in the garden in the south of Italy and waited.

The grass grew up round its wheels and cats slept on its bonnet. It was shaded by an old olive tree which fanned it in the breeze and scratched and hit it in storms.

It was old and tired and it just did not want to go anywhere, do anything, it was fed up!

Before it got to the garden It had sat in a yard with some other vehicles. It was in the town and there was lots going on so it wasn't bored. It got a bit scruffy and neglected but it wasnt a bad life.

Then one day some people came along and poked and prodded and pushed it around. they looked in the engine and tutted and shook fingers and then disappeared. The little car thought that was that and settled back to retire again but no sooner had it got comfortable than it was pushed and pulled and hauled and balanced and lifted and slightly broken and loaded on to a lorry. Luckily it was well tied on because the lorry sped off up hills round bends under trees and finally arrived in the garden where it was pulled off and parked under the olive tree.

And then a horrid time began in the cars life when it was taken to bits and put back together again, driven down the road and then taken to bits again. Then there was a spell when it was taken to another town and parked in a street and poked and prodded and argued over again. Someone called Angelo who seemed to be quite fond of it kept twiddling with this and that and then finally it stopped. The little car sat there for weeks.

Then one day Angelo got in and drove off in it, but unfortunately there was hardly any petrol so he didn't get very far. Next came a very small truck and several people shoved and pushed and shouted a lot and made the little car get in even though it broke one of its mirrors. That was a bad day for the car but Angelo was pleased . He had made it pass a test which had required more prodding and poking.

Later that day the little car had been taken back to the garden and then it sat there for months. It was rained on and the seats got wet. It got cold and would not start and it was quite miserable. But eventually the sun came out again and the car cheered up a little. There were things going on in the garden. A strange man was often around climbing trees and cutting bits off. Some times he fell down. That was funny. Sometimes he drove a tractor but he never spoke to the little car except to say, "useless piece of plastic" as he marched past. Sometimes he ran past chasing a cat.

The little car just watched.

Then one day a woman called Anna got in and tried to start up the engine. The little car held its breath and refused to start.

Later that day Angelo returned. He came back every day for what seemed like weeks and put in extra bits, then took them out again. He sighed , scratched his head and had a smoke a lot ,but eventually all seemed in order.

Now Anna was the owner of the little car and she was a little scared of driving but she was determined to be brave and take the little car out lots of places and take care of it. She thought it could become a very special little car. In fact she was going to write a book about it, where they went on lots of little journeys and visited interesting places and painted them.

So one morning , after Anna had not slept at all well because she was so anxious about taking the little car out for its first trip, she got up and before she got into the car she sat down and drew it in the garden. underneath she wrote MY AMICA IN THE GARDEN. Then she gritted her teeth got in and reversed round the corner. And then it stopped. And that was that. It would not go. The engine went on going but the little car would not move and nothing would make it go!!

Anna got out, pushed it back under the olive tree, got on her scooter (trying not to feel relieved) and left.

The little car let out its breath, relaxed, yawned and prepared for another day in the garden.

Not knowing that Angelo was speeding up the road with his tool kit and determined expression on his face......................................................................................................

Nothing is as good as the real thing

Been in the studio a lot recently , getting it upgraded to a slightly more functioning interesting artists hideaway. ( so now the electric doesnt work in half of it!) But it will get done and when its finshed it will look gorgeous, and most things will be as they should be.

But it means I have not been out or even up town for ages .I have been inside, painting decorating and on the internet. So when I went in the cafe today I was asked if I had been away as they hadn't seen me for a while. In the bank I heard someone referring to me as the signora inglesi. I waved to the man in the shop where I get gas, and who' s wife sold me the lovely bedcover on my wall. The man from the commune who is always really helpful, said, hello, and I have come back feeling all warm and cosy. I read somewhere that real life contact actually creates something in you that improves your health, and it needs to be face to face. Maybe...

Then earlier I was outside taking photos of my street and the view (again) and I realised that I can not take a photo that shows what I see. And I can take decent photos ,but it does not compare with actually being there and feeling as well as seeing it.

Tonight I am planning to go to a yoga class in Bernalda and I am looking forward to spending time with people. And I hope to get a little less creaky as well. I have tried to use a dvd on my own but I always give up.

Then last , but importantly, I got dressed up to go out and threw the old baggy clothes that I wear in the studio , cause I get painty and no one sees me anyways, in the wardrobe ( both doors open now, another thing that is fixed) and shot off on my scooter feeling at least ten years younger and looking about 2 kilos lighter without my normal 6 layers.

So hurray for real life, cause I need it to write"My life as a story".

why buying a bedcover I didnt really need was a good idea

huh, I expect you are thinking if you read this ,just what kind of excuse is she going to come up with for spending money on an enormous brightly coloured velvet traditional bedcover when money is a bit tight to put it mildly.

ahem, would I felt sorry for it work, it was just there beside the wardrobe( that I did need) unwanted and unloved ( it wouldnt be for sale if it was loved would it now!) somebody s treasured cover that was just pining away in a little old damp house. It was a charitable action on my part to take it away and give it a new home.

I should say that when it got delivered along with the wardrobe I did wonder what I was going to do with it. It s big. Its bright. And it smelled pretty damp!

This last ten days I have been living in the studio and doing it up with more and less successful paint effects, quite a lot of fakery and more gloss paint than I really like. Also moved lots of furniture , put doors back on when they fell off and managed to carry a whole armchair out one door and in the other without doing my back in.

So in the midst of this I was rather guiltily wondering what the heck I would do with this bedcover. I tried it as a tablecloth, oh no not good at all, I thought of using it as a bedcover, perhaps not ( I was told it was about 80 years old and am just a bit squeamish.) finally I decided to try and hang it on the wall. I have a cute little wooden ladder which is incredibly useful for all sorts of things, so I carefully stood it up on the bed and even more carefully climbed up it with a hammer, tacks and one end of the cover. It was even bigger than I thought and quite heavy but being intrepid, guilty , stubborn and quite good with a hammer I mangaged to get it hung up relatively straight.

Wow!

It completely changed the look of the room. It inadvertently matched the armchairs( wasnt that lucky) and the rug, but more than that it changed the atmosphere in the room from white and a little cold to warm , rich and interesting and gave me the theme for my whole studio. That is a sort of bohemian artist's fascinating 350 year old village house, studio apartment.

obviously my er psyche knew what it was doing when it let my mouth say "Va bene, prendo questo coperta."

pooper scooter

Just couldnt resist this. Maybe they are common all over the world but I have never seen one in action before.

This was in Taranto yesterday at the antiques market.

today in Pisticci

Am just back from Perth, probably prettiest town in Scotland, to my adopted home town ,Pisticci,the most beautiful town in the world according to some of its inhabitants.

This morning I went for a walk with my camera just to record how it is here today. It was warm , about 20 degrees and as usual I had far too many clothes on so was obliged to walk very slowly up the hill to save turning into a woolly beetroot. I have my image to think of!

It is a treat to walk slowly and take my time to see everything and say buon giorno to most people I meet. There are people sitting at their doors and I greeted one gentleman sitting reading the newspaper on the doorstep.

I always stop when I reach the railings and turn to look at dirupo. I can just see my studio underneath the church at the far corner.

Then I reach the fruit market at the end of the main street. There are people about and always cars. I take some photos as I love the colours of the fruit and veg and there is a lovely old stone chapel in the background.

After having a coffee in a bar where one of my paintings is hanging.( I am so impressed with myself when I see one of my paintings on display.) I take some more photos of people in the piazza and am heading off down the corsa when someone stops me and asks me for a business card. ( I am very impressed with that too.) Then the local photographer says buon giorno and I compliment him on the old photos of Pisticci in his window and he says he hopes they sell.(at least I think that s what he said.) and I carry on down the street stopping to take photos.

On the way down the hill someone shouts ,Signora. Its an elderly gentleman I have seen at the market. He greets me, gives me a sweetie and then walks off. Makes me smile all the way down the hill.

I take another route through dirupo so that I can take a photo of a pretty street and then arrive back at my studio where my flowers are alive.( alive is good!)

so now I am writing this. The door is open, net curtain flapping in the breeze and I am feeling very, very fortunate indeed.

Sogni sospesi, suspended dreams

this is a first for me to post a video.
its a short interview on an italian tv station about the exhibition i took part in last week.
Perhaps I am a "right saddo", but I am really excited about this. On lots of levels.
firstly , as grannyanny, I have got a portrait of my granddaughter on Italian tv. I think that gives me several brownie points on the good granny scale.
then as an artist , even though it wasnt obvious which paintings belonged to which artist, 2 of my paintings were shown on tv.
then on the "being part of something scale" it feels good to have been part of a group.
and finally on " My life as a story" how could I ever have imagined that I would ever have been painting , living in Italy, being in an exhibition, and then having it shown on tv. how unbelievable is that!
other than all that its been a busy week. gorgeous weather most of the time and my life as a story is just racketing along............

dancing in the street

felt very special yesterday when I was entertained by a folk group outside my door. being slightly shy I took lots of photos , as I was the audience ,no one else. It was just another slightly surreal happening in my life as a story. here are some of the photos. I wish you could hear the music.