Saturday 4 April 2015

Off the Wall



The original mural by Alison Day


This image and a small FILM, I made many years ago, are all that are left of a mural I created for my son's bedroom wall. (S'cuse the inferior quality)
For me, the question had always remained: What was the story behind the mural?
With that in mind, I'm about to self-publish—the story behind the mural as a children's book and one that I have written, illustrated and designed too.
Currently, I am working towards self-publishing the story, via a crowdfunder. So, watch this space and my other social media...

© Alison Day 





















Saturday 21 March 2015

The Queue



Crocus queue by Alison Day


At last, the first day of Spring and there's already a queue in the garden ;)

For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and coverBlossom by blossom the spring begins.    

Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837-1909)
© Alison Day 











Friday 13 March 2015

Gold Springtime


Photo by Alison Day



I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
—William Wordsworth




© Alison Day 



Sunday 15 February 2015

Sad Troll

Troll by Alison Day

When I was a kid I had a troll - they were ugly, plastic and came in a variety of sizes with coloured hair - mine had orange.

In Internet slang, a troll is:
A person who sows discord on the Internet by starting arguments or upsetting people, by posting inflammatory extraneous, or off-topic messages in an online community, with the deliberate intent of provoking readers into an emotional response or of otherwise disrupting normal on-topic discussion. Verb: trolling. Source
OR: Being a prick on the Internet because you can.
Early morning, on Valentine's Day, I discovered a rather surprising and very misguided message had been left for me on my Facebook page: 'FUCKING PHOTO THIEF'. It came from a woman, of self-professed, deep faith and spirituality, living in the USA and although I won't name and shame her, because unlike her action, I'm not in the habit of stooping that low - it is, worthy of a blogpost.
These days, with the internet playing an increasingly important role in our lives, for a plethora of reasons - social contact, work and love - I feel a certain amount of decorum should be maintained. This verbal attack not only crossed a line, it was completely unfounded. 
For those of you who may not be familiar with it, my Facebook is a place where I share my personal art, design and written work. It contains links to my website, and other social media and wherever my work gets featured. My work generally carries a copyright watermark, for the simple reason that I don't want it to suddenly turn up somewhere as a t-shirt design without my permission! Also, I feature the work of other artists on my page - out of mutual interest and support, as well as things that interest me, such as ecological and environmental ideas, re-cycling, up-cycling etc. In all cases, posts and photos link back to the artisan or creator!
Unable to see the troll's point, I decided to report said post to Facebook, via their support. Unfortunately, in my haste I clicked on 'Hate speech' instead of 'Harassment/bullying' by accident, but I'm sure they were able to make an educated evaluation and sort it into its relevant pigeon hole, for processing.

Twenty-four hours later, a reply came from Facebook. They didn't see this as a breach of any of their community standards and had decided not to remove the offending post.

OK...

Honestly, I was surprised. I didn't expect them to delete it - I'm perfectly capable of doing that myself and did, but no cautionary email to the purveyor saying that this wasn't acceptable behaviour - on the Internet, off the internet or even from one adult to another?!

Oh, the devolution of it all!

I find it pitiful that someone, without bothering to find out anything about me or my work, feels the necessity to launch an unfounded, verbal attack. Initially, jealousy came to mind, but I think it is more a case of a lot of unresolved issues from a very sad troll.

P.S. Photo by ME — illustration ALSO by ME by Alison Day
© Alison Day 

Friday 16 January 2015

Mosaic Waves


Upcycled mosaic table top with an organic, multicolour design, created using a mix of conventional white tiles, handpainted tiles and pieces of mirror.



Wednesday 31 December 2014

Celebration Time




My article on: Celebrating 20 Years of The Groninger Museum has been published, in the December 2014/January 2015 issue of The Holland Times.
Available both online and in hardcopy, The Holland Times offers Dutch news to anyone who wishes to be kept up to date in English.









© Alison Day 


Tuesday 30 December 2014

Eternal Renaissance





In the gravel car park of Wytham Woods, we head for a tall wooden gate. On the way we pass other Christmas walkers, with their hatted heads, booted feet and festive cheer. Unrestrained by its turquoise rope lasso, the gate yields to a light push swinging out into a field of long, tufted grass. The path is slippery with mud, so we follow the long tresses of its edges. The landscape undulates upwards towards a cluster of trees on the horizon.







The air is fresh and clean and I feel my lungs gasping greedily with the effort as my boots slide out from underneath me. Shrubbery, green fields and bare wintery trees surround us. The decorative dots of sheep, barely visible buildings and a white mass—The John Radcliffe Hospital, are part of the patchwork landscape.
Along the way, we greet friendly-faced walkers. Facial contours forgotten, fading almost as instantly as the time in which it takes us to pass by. At the top, through a metal gate that closes automatically behind us and into a tunnel of bare-branched trees connected at their tips. Dark, naked and silent waiting for the Renaissance of Spring.





A path has been cleared through the thick blanket of fallen and browning leaves. Twisted and gnarled limbs cavort around us. Fallen trunks are clothed in rich, green moss and the landscape falls away suddenly into a small valley, only to rise again a little further on, at journey's end. This is marked by a bench, facing a gated view from a raised stone plinth. Growing nearby, a pair of tree trunks like lovers intricately entwined, stretch skywards. It is here, three and 13 years ago, three siblings scattered the ashes of their parents to the winds—with a tear in their eye and pain in their hearts.

Silently, on this cool December morning, we absorb the familiar and favoured view of Oxford once more—a place that was the centre of their world and ours—for a while.



Photos © Alison Day
  

© Alison Day