I have a small stack of paper mache cups – the size of Chinese tea cups. They sit in a wobbly stack against a pile of books. Even though they have been there for a year or two, they caught my eye one morning for no particular reason. They just did.
I would love to say they are finely crafted and of great beauty but that would be a huge exaggeration! However, they do take me back to an evening I made them with my 8 and 5 year old neices. We ripped up newspaper, made some paste and settled into forming shapes.
As is often the case when we are making something, there’s a bit of ‘I’m going to make this. I’m going to do mine like this. I’m going to…’
And then, a silence descends.
Hands busy, eyes focussed, minds taking flight. In our own worlds and yet together, in the act of making.
Oil pastel and colour pencil, 19 x 21cm