For the Love of Textiles

Every morning after waking up the first thing I do is take a look into the garden. What flowers are blossoming...What colours.... It matches with the situation we are living in nowadays. There is no hope anymore in Bram's recovery..he won't get better. I have written it before..it is all about loss and let go. But this little city garden we have points out exactly the way we feel. Contradiction is the word for it. There is sadness but also happiness. We really enjoy sitting on our little terrace with the garden around us. A glass of white wine, a meal outside, coffee and the papers in the morning. The garden brings out emotions but also heals.  Memories turn up.  The sweet smell of honeysuckle brings us back to the little cottage we once rented in Walls on the Shetland isles. The door was surrounded by it, and late in the evening we often stood in front of the house watching the seals, while the perfume of the honeysuckle did mingle with the smell of the se...

Last week was filled with Fashion and Design and this post will be packed with Images...and a little text.. So, if you are not interested in this field, you have to wait till my next post, which probably show you some images from the garden.. Wednesdaymorning was the judging for "De Arnhmese Nieuwe"  organized by O.P.A. mentioned in my writing about the Artez fashionshow. I got the train at 15 past 8 and walked the route to Artschool I used to do more that 20 years ago when I had my 5 year eveningcourse in fashiondesign.  Strangely enough I felt a little nervous.  Memories turned up: 23 years ago I finished here. Big bags I used to take with me filled with fabrics, pencils, paints and much more.  A big black folder for all my drawings.. The nerves for a  review... The  excitement seeing my design on stage... The building in which Artschool (now called Artez) is settled is build by Gerrit Rietveld and is a beautiful example of a clear vision ...

Last week the postman delivered -unexpected- a Big Box. Stamps were from Ireland and I immediately recognized the writing.  It was from Anne who -for many years- did rent out to the little cottage by the sea in Connemara. The place we love so much, and the place we can't visit anymore together because of Bram's illness.  The chats with Pat and Tony outside, and the talks Anne and I had about all kind of subjects of life while sitting at the table and drinking tea together. Little gossip ofcourse and who is who...and how was it to grow up in this place at the edge of Europe... Feeling at home there. Nowhere else, and never I had that feeling of coming home.  Driving up the hill to Cleggan and the vieuw from there..the little pier, the ferry waiting for a crossing, Inishbofin...This always has been an emotional moment for me. Even while writing this, tears are running. The box was filled with memories. Chocolat, salmon, pictures, a beautiful Irish linen Tea towe...