I lost my stylus for this entire week. It meant I couldn't work properly on my iPad without it, so little in the way of new work this week, but luckily I had these two collages I made last week to post here today. Until I lost the stylus I had not realised my level of attachment to it; we have been through so much artwork, so much discovery, and so much delight together. It had become a natural extension of my hand and therefore to my brain, and that hand felt quite bereaved without it. From the title of this post you can probably guess what happened, but if you would like to hear the whole story, read on ... I had no time to work last Saturday, and didn't notice its loss until last Sunday when I was writing up my blog. When I reached out for it it wasn't where it should have been. Initial searches in the usual places for misplaced objects proved fruitless. According to Procreate's canvas information, I last had it in my hand on Friday the 25th of February; I had started some simple colour separation on a new daisy pattern with it. I woke in the early hours of Monday morning and my heart sank to my stomach when I remembered I had lost my beloved stylus. I know, insignificant in the scale of current world events and it sounds silly, but I was really grieving for it. It meant I couldn't do any proper work on my iPad, for using a finger to draw can only achieve so much. By Wednesday I had turned out every room available to me without any luck; Molly was staying with us, and working from home in my work room so I wouldn't invade her privacy. I went through all the bins used since the previous Friday, and the recyling, tipping it all out in the garden to sift through it thoroughly. I felt like an archeologist turning back the layers of time. To make matters worse I had discovered in the week that my stylus model, the Adonit Dash 3, seems to be no longer in production and has been replaced by the Dash 4. Not the same. I wanted my beloved one back with a terrible passion now. It was some comfort to know I hadn't thrown it out by accident, meaning it could only be in the house somewhere, but when Molly left yesterday and the stylus didn't show up in the last two places to search - her room and work area - I was completely baffled. There was nothing else for it: the sofa, where I was last using the stylus, had to undergo its fifth search, this time on a forensic level. I had been loathe to do anything too invasive because it is a lovely old sofa and I was afraid of damaging it. Although I had been unable to feel any gaps where anything could slip down into the gubbins of the sofa, it was the very last place it could possibly be after the lengthy process of elimination. B and I turned it upside down, righted it, and turned it upside down again - no easy matter, it being a hefty piece of furniture built in 1969, purchased brand new by my parents especially for this house around 1970. However, while it was upside down in the bright light of the morning I spotted a lumpy shape lodged beneath the plush cover at the bottom of the backrest. There was nothing else for it, we had to go in. B began taking off the linen base cover, painstakingly removing tiny tacks with a special tool so as not to damage the fabric. We peered into the architecture of the internal space with torches, revealing a sort of cathedral of wooden supports and big springs (they knew how to build a sofa in those days!) - but nothing was there, and no access to the backrest from the base. We righted the sofa again, and this time heard movement within the backrest - something had become dislodged by the tapping of the tack-removing tool with a hammer during the process of removing the base cover. We kept turning the sofa upside down and righting it to locate the whereabouts if the object which was rattling about quite freely now, which I recognised as sounding a bit like the stylus. My hopes began to rise. There was also a large metallic ping and clatter as something else broke free - oh, for an Xray machine! We turned the sofa the right way up and B devised a method of inserting ply boards between the sprung seat base and the padded backrest, and discovered there was indeed a slip-route through to the cavity at the base of the back rest from the seat, which couldn't be seen until enough pressure was exerted on the base springs. In the end, I stood on the springs to allow B enough space to wriggle his hand in and grope about. The sofa finally gave up its secrets: first, a long, size 8 knitting needle of the sort used by my Mum and Gran, with a row-counter fitted at its end which read 72. This was the lumpy shape we could see and feel beneath the plush cover and the metallic ping sound. This proved for sure that things could get swallowed into the sofa's belly, and if something the size of that knitting needle could get in my stylus certainly could. So the investigations continued; a two-pence piece fell out, dated 1971 (the year our family moved into the house). Then B pulled out a Milady sweetie wrapper, followed by a cigarette lighter (in good condition). This all dates to times when the room was used at Christmas; everybody smoked in those days, and Gran used to sit knitting in the afternoon while the seasonal Bond movie was on TV and we all ate sweets. I reckon the knitting needle must be late 70s or 80s. The lighter looks 90s or early 20s, after then everyone stopped smoking. And finally, with a triumphant gesture, B raised his hand out of the dark innards high into the air - holding my precious stylus! I did a little weep of joy. It went straight onto its charger, and later I was relieved and delighted to find it undamaged by its adventure. Needless to say I got straight back to work on that pattern and finished it, so relieved and happy to be working again.
The sofa was safely put back together again, but there is still a mystery object within which we couldn't get hold of, probably another coin. There it will stay until we need to retrieve something else, or curiosity gets the better of us, but at least we know we don't need to remove the base cover next time. Thanks for reading, see you next week! Comments are closed.
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Welcome to my illustration and patterns blog.
I illustrate under the pen-name of Binky McKee, McKee being my mother's maiden name. Binky was the name of every single cat my great-grandmother kept - allegedly about 40 of them during her 94 years of life. I changed the website address a few months ago, so some older links on previous posts are broken. If you click one of those and it takes you to a strange page, simply replace the .co.uk after the binkymckee. with weebly.com and it will work again. I hope you enjoy your visit! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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I keep lots of scrapbooks and sketchbooks where I develop ideas and design little creatures. Here's a peek inside one ...
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As you may know, I am also known as Heather Eliza Walker.
Click the image if you would like to find out more and visit my other website. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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April 2024
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This time, take a peek into my ceramic design sketchbook. I actually made some of the mugs, but I kind of prefer the drawings! The plate designs are painted on paper plates, a most liberating process.
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These watercolours are from my pattern sketchbook. I used coloured wax crayons to resist the washes of watercolour, also home-made rubber stamps dipped in bleach then printed on crêpe paper - the bleach takes out the paper dyes.
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A sketchbook I used for mark-making with unusual objects - corks, seed-heads, feathers, home-made rubber stamps, my fingers and lots of flicky things ...
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