Small decisions

Do you ever realise that you have forgotten something really obvious? Like where to go shopping.

Being the generation that I am, and having grown up in a city with all the anonymity that that entails it I have always just shopped at a supermarket. I mean why wouldn't you, they have everything you need and the prices are cheaper than anywhere else.

And yet over the last few years I have noticed more and more news stories that make me question that obvious choice. Reports of the power supermarkets hold over their suppliers, how they can dictate the price they sell their goods at and even drive them out of business if they refuse to comply. Stories of new technology that allows food to be kept on the shelves longer because it still looks ok, or new varieties that travel well but have less nutrients than traditional ones.

So one day Nicola went to our local butcher. And because there was someone there to ask, she did so. And yes their chicken is free range, so is the pork and the eggs and the beef is grass fed. They could tell her where everything came from as well as the ingredients in the sausages - because of course they make them themselves.

So now we buy our meat from the butcher. Afterwards I may still go to the supermarket but now buy a lot, lot less there and can choose what I purchase rather than taking what they decide to offer me.

It is perhaps not so surprising that I had forgotten all of this - given the massive advertising budgets that large companies have and the influence they have in parliament  to change our laws even to force small producers out, but I still feel daft for having been conned for so long. But I take hope in the fact that others are not so gullible, and as a designer maker myself I see proof of this everytime someone chooses something I have made over something from some faceless factory.

So if there is a point to all my rambling it is this - never stop questioning what you are told because the little everyday choices we make quietly can have just as much effect as marching on parliament.

Buy local, buy handmade.

Comfort

Porridge. Is there anything better on a frosty Sunday morning than a bowl of porridge ?

Not just for your body but for your mind as well - Nicola has mentioned letting our right brains run free but to do so I find I need space in my head, space free of the television, of facebook and of all the rest.

And it turns out that in something as simple as stirring porridge, that my mind is given that freedom.

Recently I have been wondering exactly what is a blog for, how does it fit in too Coulter & Coulter, what do we want to achieve with it?  The conclusion I have reached is inspiration.  A place to share what inspires us, why we are inspired and the results of the inspiration.

What's been inspiring me is listening to David Trubridge  on the need to create. it triggered one of those light bulb moments (no pun intended there) for me.  And reading this conversation by Neil Gamine on genre  The two very different things seemed to feed into each other.  Then I got to thinking why do we focus so much on left brain, where does it all start? Is it the way we educate our children?  Do we really need to catagorise so much?  Maybe its time to let our right brains run free.

Winter Days

Its almost mid winter, the days are short and cold.  All I want to do is sit by the fire and knit.  Maybe listen to some radio or binge out catching up on tv I have missed.  This little guy fell out of my knitting needles today.

Available over here on Felt.

Its been too long...........

Well hello there.  Its been way too long since I have been back here.  I have been spending way to much time over  in The Department of Curiosities and Fine Things.   Looking around I see there is quite a bit of housework needs done.  But don't worry I will be back soon, I have lots to say.

The Japanese probably have a word for it

I took my youngest to have his hair cut the other day. The hairdresser chatted to my son for a minute or so and then started. He combed and snipped, combed and snipped, moving round from one side to the other and back. Every now and then he would pause, step back thoughtfully and then return to work.

It proceeded this way both of them relaxed and chatting for perhaps 15 minutes or so and then suddenly it was done - a boy had emerged from the haystack.

I love to watch professionals at work. From the hairdresser to the signwriter to the mechanic and seamstress there is an ease, a relaxed economy of motion in the way they move. It is something that can only come from having done something hundreds if not thousands of times and that confidence comes through in the way they stand, the way they move.

And when they have left  I can still feel an echo of their presence in the creation before me.

I find it difficult to put into words but there is something "just right" about what has been made that makes you think "I could do that".

But you couldn't - that magic would be missing.

Real

An old piece of furniture is a joyous thing.

Especially the ordinary items, those made in small factories or by people like you and me. Passed over and headed for landfill because they have no monetary value, their worth lies in their past and their purpose and even the echoes of long gone design trends re-interpreted by the maker.

Being a visual person the shape of things intrigue me.  Even when an item seems just "not right" somehow it is just a reminder that a real person made this.

I suppose modern furniture has been made by somebody but when I wander around a big store it just seems so impersonal and soulless. The whole experience just seems more about the store's profit than the item itself.

Or perhaps I am just getting old . . .