Zodiac one, the sun.
The morning after the night before, Sol, nursing the mother of all hangovers and wishing that somebody would just hurry up and invent RayBans, tries to hail the last taxi home from downtown BYzantium.
I think that might be a bacon sarnie he’s got in his other hand there.
Working with your own naturally dyed threads does force one to make some interesting colour choices, and poor sunny boy here has ended up looking a jaundiced, but he’s working it, bless him. I’m quite pleased that none of my dyes ran upon washing, as that had been worrying me.
I’m not sure if those daisy shaped things are meant to be stars or just twiddly bits to fill the space. They could be either, really, since medieval art abhors negative space in pretty much the same way that nature famously abhors hoovers, or was it vacuums?
Can’t decide if Sol here should be one of my next batch of greetings cards all on his own, or if he should wait for his twelve little mates to be done? any votes?