I decided to do one of the sample pieces for the WEald and Downland workshop, and started with the one that is a straightforward replica (there will be others that are interpretive). This one is the copse from the shipbuilding scene of the Bayeux tapestry.
It might partly be the colours, but that one on the left looks ever so much like an Eygptian papyrus.
I used some wool challis for the background, and to be honest I think it was a little too flimsy, so i’ve asked Whaleys to send me some samples of other white wools because I want to offer a wool cloth to work on for the workshops – there will be linen too, but I think it would be good to have a wool option as well.
In other news I am in the bad books. This morning there was an hour of sunshine, and Gareth offered to take some pictures of the silk velvet c15th gown, so I kind of threw it on in a bit of a hurry and we drove to Adel church for a photo shoot. Now, I swear all was well when I got into the car, and Gareth was chuffed to bits with the pictures, except…
I’m not. I don’t know if it was cos I got dressed in a hurry, or I twisted getting out of the car, but the front of the dress went all wrong. Gareth wouldn’t have noticed cos he knows nothing about costume, but I just can’t bring myself to put those pics out on the big bad internet. Ok, so I look good (a fairly significant achievement on Gareth’s part because I am soooo not photogenic – I mean, my graduation pictures will never ever see the light of day) but the dress looks wrong, just wrong, and it’s not the dress, it’s the fact that it’s all twisted. It looks like I slept in it a bit. And it’s my fault cos I skipped my medieval lengberg style bra thingy that goes under my kirtle and keeps some sort of control over my humungous knockers – never skipping that step again. And it’s not like I don’t know they need proper containment.
I feel like I’m being a real bitch, too, cos Gareth was so pleased and told me several times before I saw them that I looked gorgeous.
Anyway, after the trauma of Halloween with a cat who growls like a dog every time someone knocks on the door – look how many conkers I found on one trip to the end of the end of the street.
I love conkers. I can’t resist them, they’re so shiny and pretty and autumny.
I have told Gareth they are an art installation and he isn’t allowed to move them.