Making and Finding

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There’s something so satisfying in making things for the home. Even if they’re not perfect – they have uniqueness, an inner life. Kevin McCloud’s recent show is all about “making and doing not buying and consuming” & I totally agree. And yet – who can resist the fun of a great flea market find… it’s all in the mix.

the knitted throw

in the front garden

This week a bit of both. Found the most lovely hand knitted throw in the Blackheath Antique Centre. Something that makes you feel warm just by looking at it. Then decided to make a patchwork door snake, inspired by a picture from a French house magazine.

first apples from a tree planted 2 years ago

chalking up

In the old schoolmasters house there are large gaps under the doors and in winter snakes are needed to block drafts. The snakes from the supermarket are always sad affairs; in drab colours, lightweight and never long enough. Pathetic somehow, over summer they gather in dusty little clusters at the bottom of cupboards- always in the way.

I decided to make a sumptuous snake: oversize and in vibrant warm colours. Something that was not an afterthought to the room, but an integral part of it, bought out when the seasons changed.

left over bits of fabric

on a morning walk


Not really having a guide on how to got about it – I gathered up some off cuts of upholstery fabric and cut & placed out different coloured strips. I think that craft projects are best when you don’t over think them…

Agastache Sweet Lil

the strips sewn together


After machine sewing them together in a striped banner – seamed it into a long sock, and sewed one end closed. Not wanting it too heavy I alternated layers of sand from the hardware and beanbag filling. This did make it a little lumpy; perhaps next time I would do all beans. But I love the fact that an hour ago it was some random fabric scraps lying in the cupboard and now it is something useful and needed.

my finished patchwork snake

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Foliage and Flowers

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During the 6 years that Ingrid Betancourt was held as a hostage in the Colombian jungle she made a promise to herself – that when she was released she would “always have flowers in my room and wear perfume”.

Nice mess on the floor at the Posy Hands workshop


I know what she means – flowers do add that grace note to a room. Wanting to learn more about how to get that, I signed up for the “Posy Hands” Workshop at The School, taught by Poppy from Pop and Scott, a creative workshop co-operative from Melbourne. I‘d seen Pop and Scott on Instagram and there was something fresh and loose about their arrangements. I liked that they made indoor swings too.

Poppy’s expert wrapping

the posy I made in class


It’s interesting how just a few chance remarks and a demonstration can tilt your perspective. For me it was Poppy talking about the importance of foliage, the structure and beauty of leaves. She showed us how to build up the base up with foliage, rotating the bunch in your hand and then feeding in little clumps of flowers going from feature flowers to secondary ones. We were then given a chance to make our own from a table full of luscious flowers.

my neighbour in class making a posy

my allergic reaction to grevillea a few weeks ago

There was talk of gathering foliage from the verdant streets of Sydney – with the phrase “I picked it locally” prefered to “ I stole it from the neighbours” Well… actually that’s how I found out that I had an allergy to grevilleas…

flowers from the front garden

… onto the naturalist’s desk


Back at the old schoolmasters house, looking forward to trying everything out with homegrown flowers and foliage gathered from country lanes. Standing in the garden I could completely see the sense of having leaves surround the flowers, that’s just how it is in nature.

looking at foliage with a new eye


Making my posy with rich hued late summer flowers; I notice how the soft eucalyptus leaves cradle and frame it. To display it – a jam jar rigged up, tied with string around the neck, another tip from the class. Totally new way of displaying flowers, I like the unexpectedness of it- it gives the wall such vibrancy.

hanging jam jar vase

… experimenting with different backgrounds

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A Relaxed Country Kitchen

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The words ‘country’ and ‘kitchen’ just go together…

telegraph post in the village

country kitchen from an unknown magazine


Looking through back issues of World of Interiors and creating a board on Pinterest, the image starts to come into focus. Dream country kitchens are large and spare, with substantial stoves and checkerboard floors, open shelves, windows onto a cottage garden and maybe an old oil painting propped up. Tea cosies, battered old stools, and large pots and pans. It’s a comforting vernacular, and leads to thoughts of time spent cooking slow meals made with vegetables and herbs from the garden.

the old kitchen at the schoolmasters house – the ‘before’ photo


The old kitchen was an approximation of that dream, if you squinted a bit and blurred your vision. But it felt unloved, tired and cramped. The trick was to bring in some modernity and entwine it with a fresh & affordable version of country charm.

corn from a neighbour’s garden

the kitchen… … a work in progress


The first addition was an island bench in the middle of the kitchen. It’s one of those surprising things when a single piece of furniture changes the feel of a room and the way people move through it. Suddenly the kitchen had a focal point, a clear place to prepare meals or to sit and eat. It felt more homely. The cupboards were painted a subtle grey green, an almost Scandinavian colour, one that was both refreshing and calm. A vintage plate rack was found and open shelves put to the side. A tiled checkerboard floor replaced (awful) fake brick vinyl.

out for a evening walk

the new/old kitchen light


So checking items off the list for country kitchen. I guess some would call them cliches, but I’ll call them classics. Now the broad strokes are in there are layers to be built up, the small details. A new hunt for kitchen bowls, canisters and wire baskets – ones with patina and character. This could take many years, a delightful excuse for stopping off at country fetes and markets. But for now the best accessories are the fresh fruit, flowers and vegetables bought in from the garden…

first crop from the kitchen garden

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The Land of Snugglepot and Cuddlepie

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Going deep into the world of 1930’s illustrator May Gibbs this week- her bush fairytale creations seem more tangible in the landscape of the old schoolmasters house.

In the book ‘May Gibbs: More than a Fairytale’ by Robert Holden and Jane Brummitt


Her whimsical, adorable gumnut babies Snugglepot and Cuddlepie are embedded in some childhood memory; sharpened, deliciously, with the threat of the Bad Banksia men. There’s a kewpie doll look to her bush babies, but somehow her work hasn’t dated; there’s no one else quite like her.

my unscientific collection of banksia and seedpods

one of May Gibbs’ Bad Banksia Men


I’d heard that her house ‘Nutcote’ was a now a museum in Neutral Bay and I was curious to visit it, to find out more about her. What it was like to lead an artistic life in Australia in the 1930s? The distance between the old world and the new was so vast then, the voyage from England weeks at sea – did she feel cut off from the centre of things…

May Gibbs’ studio at Nutcote- beautiful harbour views from every window. Photo David Cumming


It’s a beautiful house, Nutcote – it lives up to the promise of its name. Designed in a Spanish Mission style, it feels airy and light to be in; an artistic spirit lingers. True to her generation, nothing is superfluous. My favourite part was her china collection; all blue and white except for one green cup, which she bought in a café to rescue an insect trapped inside it.

May Gibbs’ portrait of a Suffragette friend

Nightfall at the old schoolmasters house


May did spend time living in London and was involved in the Suffragette movement. But impending war forced her to come home. Her gumnut babies were inspired by trips to the Blue Mountains, according to her ‘it’s hard to say if …the bush babies found me or I found the little creatures’. She turned them into postcards to send to Australian soldiers in WW1.

Still, it’s hard to find out much about May Gibbs – she was a very private person. The best source is the beautifully illustrated book ‘ May Gibbs; More than a Fairy Tale” by Robert Holden and Jane Brummitt. But I would love to get something of the spare, artistic, natural touch of Nutcote into the old schoolmasters house. And the next time I pass through the Blue Mountains I will look out for the gumnut babies…

the same era- my Grandfather’s trunk

From ‘May Gibbs: More than a Fairy Tale’

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Evening walk through the village

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Walking down the deserted main street one evening with a friend visiting for the first time, ‘In Dreams’ by Roy Orbison comes floating out from the pub… the line between past and present in this village can blur at times like this…

road through the village

gum trees on the outskirts


You’d never know that this had been such a big town; there’s a lot of space between the old miners’ cottages now. The pubs, oyster bars and opium dens have fallen down, been burnt, abandoned. But in a way this allows the town to breath- it’s not all bunched up tight like other country towns. Plenty of grassy spaces for the kangaroos to graze on.

the General Store


There’s always some tourists around, but it doesn’t seem like a ‘ tourist town’. Not everything is signposted – there are still some things you can discover for yourself.

the letterpress/cafe

interior of one of the historic cottages


There is information about; little plaques next to historic mounds of bricks and holes in the ground. And signs with reproductions of paintings of famous Australian artists who came to the village in the 40s and 50s. You can look from the representation to the reality, filtered through the artist’s eye.

Nuns Picnic by Jeffrey Smart

the church from the painting


Opposite the pub is a rusting German machine gun- a reminder of Australia’s very high casualty rate in the first World War. You see these memorials in so many country towns. Reading the list of names of the men who died from the village, there’s sometimes 2 or 3 with the same surname, brothers, listed as among the ‘fallen’. Often killed by the same type of German machine gun, dead before they hit the ground, described by their companions as seeming to fall.

the captured WW1 German machine gun

sweet scented lavender outside of one of the cottages


Heading back to the old schoolmasters house, night coming on quickly – the sudden thump of the kangaroos by the side of the path bringing you straight back to the here and now – & into the magic night!

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Road to the Waterholes

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I’d heard tell of the waterholes just down from the village but had never been. Read an account in a famous Australian artist’s diary of going there in the 40s. They sounded beautiful; clear water & deep spots for swimming. But the dirt track down to them was the barrier: a dangerous drive, sheer drops one side, accessible only by 4WD.

But on a hot summers day with a few friends, looking for something different to do; the decision was spontaneously made- we’re going down! So in a jeep-like not quite 4WD vehicle and with an intrepid driver (not me!) at the wheel – it was on.

a look out halfway down the track


And you had to hang on for a bumpy ride; one that was tense, spectacular & dusty. 4WDs coming from the other direction laden with camping and fishing gear; an uncertain protocol of passing. In the old days the men would get out of the carriage and walk to relieve the load, often to be met by some bushrangers lying in wait for them round the bends…

looking for rocks to add to collection at naturalists desk

down at the river

But then the road started to level out, become more gentle. Glimpses of the river through the trees, the odd campsite and fisherman silhouette. We chose a random spot and set up our picnic. Out of mobile range, listening to the river rushing over the stones and the throb of cicadas and watching the electric blue dragonflies – time started getting hazy.

caves by the side of the river

magical blue dragonflies coming and going


I can’t remember the last time I swam in a river. You don’t really need to in Australia; there are just so many beaches. But the water was soft and calming, it felt different to seawater. Little fish swimming by, occasionally you’d hit a mossy rock & so only a slow breast stroke possible. After lunch we went and lay in the part where the river was cascading over the stones and got a natural massage.

by the banks

an unexpected picnic guest


Heading back to the village & the old schoolmasters house feeling drowsy and relaxed. The drive didn’t seem as scary on the way back up. Or as long. Another nap and then making and setting up a beautiful dinner in the courtyard. What a memorable day…

after swimming and naps… dinner and flowers from the garden

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Midsummer garden

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High summer at the old schoolmasters house is kind of hot and luscious. Waves of dry heat that lead to afternoon siestas and river swims. Laziness really. Even the kangaroos don’t do very much. The threat of bushfire is just over the horizon.

I love bringing fresh flowers from the garden inside…


The garden has gone wild and blossomed into hundreds of blue spiky balls – the echinops have finally flowered. There’s something almost space age about them; little planets that butterflies swarm around.

Leigh making a structure for the tomatoes

…the crab apple tree outside my window


In the courtyard, nearly everything that was randomly planted just a few months ago has taken off, protected from the winds and nurtured by the heat of the walls. This is the prime growing spot. So recipes planned in town are augmented by fresh picked tomatoes, herbs and cucumbers.

dinner made from the supermarket and the garden!

…magic hour in the front garden


I’ve always loved English novels set in high summer; The Go- Between, Atonement; all full of heat and insects and secrets. Summer in Australia is usually focused around the beach and water but up here in the high hot hills it’s easier to imagine dressing for an elegant 1930s dinner with Hercule Poirot at the local rectory!

In the late afternoon when it is a bit cooler and easier to move around, the front flower garden exerts its magnetic pull and I slip into the comforting chores of cutting back and pulling weeds. As well as the more urgent one of deep watering to keep the newer, less hardy plants alive.

Rob with a hat of fresh picked apricots

I’ve never seen this type of parrot before


And then to dinner followed by apricots picked fresh from the trees, so beautiful and delicous. A pause in the work to literally savor the fruits of the many, many months of labour at the old schoolmasters house…

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Years End

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The year draws to the end, routines start to break down, festivities spring up in their place. In the old schoolmasters house the broad strokes are in place – now for the delicious layers to be built up.

French film festival poster in the Opium Den bedroom

… the day bed in the Opium Den bedroom


The bedrooms have started to take on distinct characters – they even have their own names. The front room is irrevocably the Opium Den – after old Chinese doors were added to the sides of the day bed there was no going back. Next year I’ll festoon it with vintage Chinese lanterns, and paint the room a rich putty colour. There’s a stash of some beautiful, silky tassels I want to work in somehow.

the cheeky King Parrot that’s always coming round


The bedroom next to it is the Parrot Room – rather literally as it is now covered in wallpaper featuring Australian parrots! Apart from kookaburras, parrots seem the birds most interested in human beings – they can really look at you, regard you. No wonder they are they ones who can speak… I recently read about one who told someone who was speaking to him in a patronizing voice to ‘shut up!’

early morning walk

The Parrot Room


I like the idea that you could wake up in this room, look at the wallpaper and hear the sounds of parrots in the trees outside.

Something I want to focus on next year, while bringing out the character of these rooms – is the flow from one room to another. How the colours sit side by side – how to create harmony, not overwhelm.

in the Village

the hallway light is up


It’s been interesting keeping a photographic journal of this renovation. When doing costume design I’ve always referred back to photos of actors in costume fittings – sometimes you see things in them that you miss in real life. And it has helped in this process too; recording mistakes, changes, growth.

Well, this is my last post for the year, going off the grid for a bit. Time for a holiday & to relax and replenish. Back early 2013, looking forward to the next stage of the journey…

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A Handmade Christmas

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This year I’m having a handmade Christmas – making decorations from paper and twigs and aluminum foil.
Getting out the hot glue gun and my vintage paper craft books…


For the first time I’ve made a wreath and I love the welcoming, festive feel it announces at the front door. Working with a twisted willow base, it was so easy to jam in little bits of foliage for an exuberantly springy circle.

The little red and white balls I made by cutting out 10 circles of fine card, 5 of each colour. Then creasing each one along the middle, flattening them out again into a stack of alternating colours and binding them with a loop of fishing line down the centerfold. Then hot gluing or stapling, starting at the top, pinching a red and white piece together. Next, moving onto the bottom of the ball and gluing another two pieces together so you get a spiral effect. If it’s a bit uneven – it’s part of the charm!

the simplest decoration, stars stamped on cardboard sticky taped to a mossy branch


I like to keep it fresh and simple – the things you spend the least time on often are the best.

the night sky – up at the lookout


Paper is my favorite material. It’s humble but with infinite possibilities. Even just cutting out simple snowflake patterns and then spray-painting them with silver is effective. Fine cardboard from an art supply shop’s usually the best – it doesn’t get all flimsy and flop around.

last year’s handmade decorations – recycled

do they know it’s Christmas time?


These strands of silver bells I made last year from cone shapes cut out of aluminum foil glued along the edges and placed over knots of embroidery thread so they don’t slide down.
I like how the light reflects off the silver and the little tinkly noise they make in a breeze. There’s something so delicate about them.

I guess there’s no real need to make up decorations. And yet when I took the wreath off the front door to adjust it, I missed it being there. It makes this time of the year feel different, celebratory. A break from routine. The thought and the possibility of a fresh start.

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A Painted Finish Workshop

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So many beautiful textures to be found in the country, there seems to be a patina over everything. Old flaky painted fences, rusted tin remnants in paddocks, moss covered tree stumps. It doesn’t feel right to walk into a new and shiny interior after experiencing all this.

bottles found in old country shed

roses from the garden


I love hunting down old wooden crates covered with ornate typography, anything school like, and delicate china covered in flowers. The only problem is that there’s a diminishing supply of vintage industrial and it can get expensive.

The starting point – an unremarkable stool covered in flaking varnish


So I signed up for a one day furniture painting class at Porter’s Paints, taught by the extremely knowledgeable Damien Salomons. All you had to bring was a piece of furniture, – I took an ordinary stool that I was thinking of throwing out.

sheep along the way

my stool half painted


In between demos on milk paint and crackle finish, the group worked on their piece of furniture. First I sanded my stool, roughly, and then painted it a wood like colour. Next the layers, and more layers. The trick was in applying some beeswax where you wanted the paint not to take, and then sanding that area after applying another layer.

The real thing- inside an historic cottage


There was something exciting about seeing the pieces of furniture being transformed- everyone on different projects. It did take time and energy, but then things became more unique, more individual.

vats in the paint shop

the finished stool, with red flowering gums


About 3/4s the way through, my stool started looking a bit twee, somehow lightweight. I wondered if I should have stopped at an earlier stage, the green I’d chosen was too modern. But the nice thing about doing something by hand it that you can adjust it as you go. What fixed it was adding some depth to the paint, drawing it into old Australian green tones.

a horse in the village

nearly finished, just needs a layer of beeswax


I’m so happy with the finished result, it’s great to have something to show for a day’s work. I’m sure people from the past would be surprised at the all effort taken to make something look old. And of course it isn’t an authentic patina, it’s created. But somehow that doesn’t matter; it does have a story now, and it is a loved one off piece, made especially for the old schoolmasters house.

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