These altered postcards are one of a kind miniatures. Each postcard dates from the early 1900s (circa 1902) and has that beautiful, old-world handwritten script. The birds are from an old Swiss field guide to birds, 1912. Each one has been hand-cut and added to the post card, then altered with charcoal and graphite for maximum pop. Each card measures 13cm x 7.5cm (5″ x 3″), and will come on a card that is from a 1920s French post card scrapbook. It is not fixed and can be removed and framed, if wished. Cost is £27 GBP with free worldwide shipping. To buy use the Buy It Now button UNDERNEATH the image that you want to purchase. If there any problems, please contact me by email.
Click on any image for a larger view:
One of the questions I am asked the most often is where do I get my bird images. Well, I do actively search them out and then some just find me but yes, I have a lot of birds. So here are a few to share and add to your collage, art journals, altered books, or other mixed media work. To use these, click on an image for a larger resolution, then right click and copy. You can then add it to an editing program such as Paint. (I use Word. Even though it is not a visual platform per se, I am used to it.) You may want to resize these, make them larger or smaller. Happy Making!
I recently acquired an amazing volume of Oliver Goldsmith’s A History of the Earth and Animated Nature series. There are six volunes and they tend to be crazy pricey but I have my mind made up and managed to get two of them in my budget. The most recent was volume two and it is full of coloured engravings of birds! With an occasional insect. So without further ado, please feel free to use these images. Click on an image in the gallery to enlarge then right click, copy, then paste it into Paint or Word or whatever program you use to print [read more]
On the island of Skomer, off the coast of Wales, is the largest population of Manx Shearwaters in the world. Under cover of the middle of the night, they fly in from the sea where they have been feeding. Hundreds of thousands of birds go hell for leather into the safety of their underground burrows. In the morning, the paths of Skomer are littered with the occasional bodies, or what is left of them, of the unlucky ones who didn’t make it but instead fell prey to the Greater Black Back Gulls who feed on them. All that is left is a pair of wings on a path and they fascinate me. They are the most striking memento mori – reminders that we must die – that I have ever seen (and I’m a gal who likes a good memento mori). So a typical morning on Skomer is: get up, have some coffee, hike, hike, hike, and oh, hey, remember that we must die: thanks guys, got it. And strangely, these visceral tokens of life and how quickly and randomly it is snuffed out are so lovely and unlikely.
From my post on Skomer:
The next morning, paths around the island are [read more]
“The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper; I cannot quite make it out. But God knows I have tried.” – Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk
I wish I could subtitle this: “It Can’t Always be Paris,” because as a rule, my love of travel takes me to cities, ones that I’ve fantasized about my whole life. To museums, churches, cafes, and copious amounts of people watching, opera going, and pastry eating. Nothing wrong with that. It’s just that, more and more I find myself drawn to places off the beaten track, looking for something you can’t find at the end of a subway ride. More and more I go in search of a different kind of church, a different type of watching.
Last week marked my third stay on Skomer, an island off the coast of southwest Wales. It is a place of pronounced beauty and mystery, wild in locale – it can be reached only by boat – and demeanour, if an island can be said to have such a thing. While humans have lived on Skomer for thousands of years – remnants of an Iron Age community are still strewn about the island, [read more]