Creativity is contagious. I’m certain. From #001 alone – Sophie and George’s whittled spoons inspired at least one other person to give it a try. I thought about fiddling with my long-forgotten guitar this week thanks to Rob’s brilliant track. People who saw #001 got in touch and asked if they could pass it on to others – of course! – and some of those good souls join us here today.
Once again, it’s a pleasure to see what you’ve concocted. I hope whatever you made brought you joy, and if not at least a discovery, a lesson or an idea for something else. Though I feel I need to add a note of advice: don’t don’t don’t get put off, disheartened or competitive in all this. I’ve heard from various people: I would do it but I’m just not as arty as XYZ and how can I top that. I’ll keep it brief – bollocks to that attitude. Make for the sake of making not showing. And. Everything is welcome here. A chum joked that the only thing he could do was cover his room in poo at the frustration of isolation. I for one would love to see a photo of that. Perhaps even a live stream. May this creativity continue to be contagious and never turn into a blight.
ENJOY the wares of the wonderful folks below.
First attempt at a sourdough in honour of make something Friday
19 Spring Gardens
Stuck in our homes we take take solace in the small things in life and the nature right in our back garden.Filmed over a week, but edited on Friday. Something very relaxing about bird song and also watching them none the wiser about the hectic world we currently live in.
Played around with watercolours. I wondered what would happen if I imposed them back onto the original photo I took as reference. Quite cool 3D almost pop arty outcomes.
Sophie Jo Edwards
Ecstasy Of Scratch
Goose Roll, Digital Image, 8.27 × 11.69 inches
Greedy guts, gobble goose
No more pasta, no more juice
You greedy geese took all the fruit
A long, wasted commute for poor old Mr Bute
Glutenous geese, you gorge and you feast
“Go grab that meat” gorbed porky Pete
His pipes run thick with gastric grease
No food left to feed to poor old Mrs Reese
You hog and you hoard and you hurl and you heave
You bundle and wheeze with toilet paper knees
Can’t swipe nor wipe with vegan mac n cheese
Poor old Mrs Brown, she’s covered in faeces
Guzzling goose, you gobble and squabble
You grab the last grapefruit and run home to your rabble
The only thing left is a Polish Pot Noodle
Garble and gurgle goes poor old Eric Herble
In shadows they cower, the aisles they scour
Only scattered bread rolls on the long checkout counter
Troll emptied shelves, they left no more flour
These gees leach the gluten at Gertrude’s final hour
Gormandizing geese, you gurgle like beasts
You grunt and you gasp at gorgonzola treats
You’ve stockpiled your pockets and filled up your briefs
No compassion, nor kindness, benevolence deceased
Shop assistant Ernie, turns around and says firmly,
“Serves you right sneaky Shirley, your hoard of bread has gone curly
They raced to the store, they thought they were early
Twas’ a long, wasted journey for Mr and Mrs Fernley
Greedy fat geese, You gulp up your grub
You slurp like a twerp at your gallon of gravy
We begrudge every gargle, every glug that you take
No grapes and no gallantry, only gargling pantries
Harry Hare is made from wool via the needle felt method. Really enjoyed doing it!
Flatbread, Paprika humous, onion and cheese dip, salsa
Phoebe Collier & Simon
I have attached Simon’s sourdough starter that he made today (bread will hopefully be made next Friday). I have also attached my smiley quesadilla that I made for tea, sorry not that interesting or creative today!
“The War in Aisle 9″
Inspired by carnage scenes of loo roll battles in local supermarkets.
After making an unexpected ink splodge on my initial painting I took to the digital drawing board to do a bog roll version of the recognisable WW2 ‘Your Country Needs You’ poster.With the press, politicians and your next-door-but-one neighbours making this corona shtuff seem like a WAR to be fought…i thought in true British style I would recruit poo*, oops you*, to instead do what a lot of people seem to be doing – covering their own arses. Keep Calm and Steal All The Loo Roll, n’all that good stuff!
Based on Amila’s love of guinea pigs and to celebrate the new chapter of her career…
Design: Jonny Banger (sportsbanger)
A signal to the wonderful NHS – Do not privatise our amazing healthcare service! You add the Nike tick to this image, it adds a price tag. The NHS should be free to all!
Yesterday/today’s creation is a proper test for me. I finished it and basically felt like the thing I made – the pasta – was great. But the thing describing the thing I made – the description of making the pasta – wasn’t.
And I didn’t know how to make it great. Maybe I should just have sent you the photos alone, rather than trying to typeset them? Maybe I should’ve filmed the process instead of photographed it? Maybe I should’ve written the whole thing as a story?
In any case, I thought, part of the point of this whole exercise is to share what you’ve done and be less precious about it. So maybe the things I dislike about the thing I made to describe the thing I made, maybe they’re part of the point of the exercise.
Maybe they ARE the point of the exercise. Maybe the point isn’t to send you something beautiful and exciting and perfect, even if I’d made something beautiful and exciting and perfect.
Maybe, I thought, there exists a thing which I – or you, or whoever – could in theory make, one Friday. A thing which is completely and indisputably perfect, a true masterpiece. A thing so perfect that it contains within it every contradiction that makes great art – it’s full of your personality, and at the same time feels as though it has always existed and you were merely the vessel through which it made itself known; it defines an era, and is completely timeless; it speaks personally to its reader or listener or viewer about minutiae of their life, and speaks in abstractions about grand truths that apply to everyone. It is intimate and grandiose; it follows in the great tradition, and is utterly heretical; it is sparse and lush and prickly and beautiful and gentle and bold and careful and carefree and it is an epic saga and it is short and accessible and it flowed out of its creator fully formed in one swift sweep of the brush and it was honed and refined and perfected over time by a skilled artist and it is all things to all men, even those who desire that it mean nothing.
It is utterly lacking in imperfection, which is to say: it is perfect.
And for that reason, it is not eligible for Make Something Friday/See Something Saturday.
Letter to an Unknown Soul
I need your help. I have written a letter for an unknown soul. Now I need an address. It’s for someone who lives alone – someone who was isolated long before us and will continue to be isolated long after we’re all back with the people we love. As we have all now experienced, human closeness is incredibly important, essential I think. And for some it isn’t just a few weeks in 2020. It has been so for years gone and will be for years to come.
One of the things I have felt most deeply over the last few weeks is that despite being healthy and willing I’ve done nothing to help anyone. But I also think; why do we so often wait until a time of struggle to reach out? And what happens after this passes? Though I’m sure there will be new friendships forged as people help isolated people, I’m sure a lot of people will go back to being forgotten. Maybe not at first but over time.
This whole week I have been thinking about time – inspired by letters with Annie – and how words have this mesmerising ability to reach out backwards and forward through time. So I wanted to use this Friday to throw a stone towards the future and watch how far (if at all) the ripples will run.
I’ve written this letter with the purest intention – but I have also tried to have some fun with the language at the start so that it entertains as well as informs the reader. I do this often, tottling about with rhyme adds linguistic challenge and excitement to the act of letter writing. I don’t very much like – hello, how are you? I just hope that the reader doesn’t think I’m being whimsical, trite or (and I fear there is a distinct risk of this) head pantingly patronising. The truth is, a lot of truly isolated people are – or have had to become – stoic by nature and the last thing they want is a chat with some plonker wot made somefin on Friday. I understand the risk but I want to try.
So now I’m asking for your help. Do you know anyone I could post this to? Someone who might like to feel closer to someone through the wonderful magic of words and letters? Feel free to message me separately.