Taking time over the painting; Five ground layers, textural.

Writing is progressing similarly; Thinking about abject objects…

I have thirty six of my children’s baby teeth, three dirty envelopes of baby hair and an umbilical cord. The ritual of saving a long time wobbly incisor and placing it gently under an innocent head full of wonder is a joy. It feels like a promise broken to then throw away the precious fairy cargo. So, I saved them all. It’s amazing just how tiny they are when they fall out and as time passes, they seem smaller again, this is probably the reason why I only have thirty six of the sixty which will have fallen out. My babies were all born bald so I guess they must have been quite big by the time I cut their hair, tiny wisps of feathery hair which becomes course as it grows and changes colour. My boy is disgusted by the mummified skin which I keep of his umbilical cord. It’s shrivelled and still stuck to the plastic medical clamp. I know that he will throw it away when I am gone as he is so repulsed that he can’t touch it. I, however, hold it to my heart when I uncover it now and again. To me it’s the only evidence that we were physically one being for nine months.

Book Making: