Painted faces
(Me, Jasmine and Roisin with our painted faces: Glasgow, UK)
No ordinary Saturday this one, or is it? Last Saturday I was running an exhibition with other people and this week I was running a stall at a craft sale. Now that I focus more on illustration, the craft business I set up after graduating (the infamous *pipless jam) has almost completely deflated, except that some stock still remains packed up in boxes in my house. I chose to stop trading at fairs and sales because although on good days the chatter, camaraderie and swapping potential were rife, there were also long days in cold venues, peddling to a disinterested public for little return at all. I seldom walked away from a sale feeling rich in either cash or good contacts. I recall the moment on an icy afternoon last Christmastime in London when I threw in the proverbial towel and opted for a freelance illustration career. I vowed right then that I would never make another purse. However, though I have kept that promise to myself, occasionally an event pops up that I feel it would be beneficial (or at least enjoyable) to attend. Today’s event in the Mitchell library was both of these. Rather than being chilly, the heating was racked up to a temperature that must have been labeled ‘tropical discomfort’ on the thermostat. It was genuinely sweltering and by the late afternoon I felt like a wilting pot plant on a hot radiator.
I shared a stall with Roisin (on the right); we used to work together when I worked part time for Shelter. Once Jasmine (centre) had the snake painted on her face and her mother had a holly and ivy design across her temple, I decided to join in the fun. Roisin moved into the seat directly after me. It has been years since I have had my face painted, perhaps too long. I sat in the chair with the lady suggesting some festive designs. I decided to let her come up with something based on my outfit; a peacock green 1980s shoulderpad clad dress, and she managed it with great aplomb. We all spent the rest of the day being complimented by strangers and pointing them her way. She must have made more money from adults today than any number of children. There is something wonderful about becoming someone different under the paint, much like dressing up or wearing a mask; a confidence emerges through the paint, outwith normality and it can be quite intoxicating. Or perhaps it was the heat.
– Today Rosie is having a day off and hopefully doing something interesting in Glasgow, UK –
