Revelation in the Spooky Cupboard (7, conclusion)

Ta da!  At last, I've caught the critters inhabiting the spooky cupboard:

A Walk in England

One of my daily walks here in England is a circuit of the TASIS school's campus.  Here's a little commentary with it:

Spooky Cupboard/Chalice (6) is back. . .

Oh boy, the spookiness is back at Casa Creech. . .

O

Taking a Break . . .

I saw signs like this one, "Sono in giardino" ("I'm in the garden"), in a village in southern Switzerland. Hung on an outside door, it directed visitors around the back to the garden, where the owner was puttering or reclining. I found this sign in the local Migros there and brought it home to use, most often, on my office door.

When I use it, it usually means I am taking a break--maybe in the giardino, maybe elsewhere.  Oddly, though, I also use it to mean the opposite:  'I'm working; don't disturb.'   When my husband sees it, he disregards it anyway. To grandchildren, it is invisible.  And that's okay.  It's still a nice sign.

Fine, Fine Young Readers

I rarely have the chance to catch readers in the act of reading one of my books, so these two photographs are treasures. The girls are triplets.

Spooky Cupboard 5x

Aye yie yie. The tiny silver chalice, first discovered in a spooky cupboard in England, has now reappeared in North Carolina. . .

Simple Complexity: Inspiration

Objects or scenes that appear simple often reveal hidden complexity. I think this is what first draws me into a story--not a complex idea, but something so pure and simple that it haunts and engages the mind.

The above scene, for instance, is merely a hallway with afternoon light flirting with the wall and door. I'm drawn to this sight. I like that contrast of light and shadow, and I'm intrigued by the fleeting nature of that particular pattern of light. Can I capture an instant, can I understand why it appeals, can I recreate the scene in words, and can I do it in a  simple and pure way? Can I resist cluttering it in the rendering of it?

Here's another photo to illustrate:

At first glance, this might appear to be a poorly-taken photograph of a framed silkscreen (two fish swimming in the sea)–'poorly-taken' because of the reflection that obscures the painting. But if you look closer, you see that 'within' the silkscreen of two fish is the reflection of wintry birch branches outside the room wherein this artwork hangs. For me, this becomes more than a simple reflection of light and shadow on the wall; it holds a story with many layers, a story of contrasts and parallels that wants to be told. Can I plumb the depths of that story and yet convey those depths in an uncluttered and pure way?

Heavy thoughts for a simple Saturday afternoon, mm?