Being fifty-something, I’m feeling a bit crafty.
Not sly like an old fox kind of crafty. I’m feeling arty (yet homely) like an old lady with a hankering to crochet nanna squares.
I blogged about it here.
That felt-making workshop eventuated this past weekend. It exceeded my expectations. It whetted my appetite for all things crafty.
I was excited (in my thirties I’d have been nervous) about spending a morning with a group of strange women. Turns out they were strangely familiar – a lot like me: thirty-something, forty-something and fifty-something ladies eager to learn a new craft.
Our instructor Wendy was a gorgeous uber-creative lady with a huge smile and a spirit that brought the room to life.
In no time at all we were laughing and collaborating, sharing in this new experience.
Who knew the art of felting was so physical? Teasing, feathering, squeezing, rubbing, bouncing, rolling … and more rolling.
We each hand-crafted (yes, from scratch!) a colourful pre-felt. Mine is the dark green one.
We shared these pre-felts, combining them with other materials to create our own textile masterpieces.
“Like painting, only different.”
Wendy showed us some of her own superb pieces – scarves, book covers, brooches and a stunning embellished vest that incited a flush of “oohs” and “aahs”.
We were all inspired enough to put up our hands for future classes.
I left with my head spinning with possibilities, the tools I need to make those things happen and this colourful stash of wool tops (the raw ingredient of felt).
With that class ticked off, my craft mission feels not-so-nanna.
It’s taken a strong swing towards foxy.