Hello Rima--I'm enjoying your dissertation immensely; I steal a few moments for it every day, a little treat to myself in the lull between the end of the workday and the onset of the supper hour. You can picture me sitting at my antique writing desk, having set up the laptop to read there, with a cup of tea and the west windows catching the late afternoon sun. Thank you for these moments! I hope you're safely hunkered down there in the unusual snowfall; where I live snow is a commonplace thing, but I well know how disruptive it can be otherwise. Still, winter has its ways of inspiring us, no? Best--Anne (from Queen's Kettle)
Published here is my 2003 dissertation on Marginal Medieval Art, written for my final BA Book Arts & Crafts degree at the London College of Printing. The original file was lost, and so I have scanned it page by page and saved it here for folks to read and enjoy.
Rima Staines is an artist using paint, wood, word, music, animation, clock-making, puppetry & story to attempt to build a gate through the hedge that grows along the boundary between this world & that. Her gate-building has been a lifelong pursuit, & she hopes to have perhaps propped aside even one spiked loop of bramble (leaving a chink just big enough for a mud-kneeling, trusting eye to glimpse the beauty there beyond), before she goes through herself.
Always stubborn about living the things that make her heart sing, Rima has lived on wheels a few times in her life. She's currently rooted in mossy South Devon, halfway between moor and sea.
Rima’s inspirations include the world & language of folktale; faces of people who pass her on the street; folk music & art of Old Europe & beyond; peasant & nomadic living; magics of every feather; wilderness & plant-lore; the margins of thought, experience, community & spirituality; & the beauty in otherness.
Crumbs fall from Rima’s threadbare coat pockets as she travels, & can be found collected here, where you may join the caravan.
Hello Rima--I'm enjoying your dissertation immensely; I steal a few moments for it every day, a little treat to myself in the lull between the end of the workday and the onset of the supper hour. You can picture me sitting at my antique writing desk, having set up the laptop to read there, with a cup of tea and the west windows catching the late afternoon sun. Thank you for these moments! I hope you're safely hunkered down there in the unusual snowfall; where I live snow is a commonplace thing, but I well know how disruptive it can be otherwise. Still, winter has its ways of inspiring us, no? Best--Anne (from Queen's Kettle)
ReplyDelete