Lost in the Wood

January seems an excellent time for metaphorically taking stock and so I've been reassessing the items I'm making and my future plans. I've been feeling a bit dissatisfied recently and now I've identified why. I've realised there's a disconnect between the name/logo/feel of Lost in the Wood Designs and the items I've actually been making. The makers/artists I get excited about and the things I'm most interested in are not been necessarily reflected in the love hearts and cute cakes I'm currently making. While I am really pleased with these, on their own they don't feel distinctive enough to differentiate my work from lots of other makers out there and don't fully represent me as I see myself. The world isn't all cupcakes and flowers and it's no wonder that people are often drawn to the darker/ sinister /more salacious things out there (& in us). Perhaps it's not good or professional to admit these doubts but questioning

Despite the bitter cold and dark nights (or perhaps because of it...), love is in the air at the end of this month and into the beginning of February. Wales kicks off the romance with Dydd Santes Dwynwen on 25th January (similar to St Valentine's Day on 14th February). The legend of Santes Dwynwen has various forms, my favourite version is this one: 'Dwynwen fell in love with a prince called Maelon Dafodrill, but unfortunately her father had already arranged that she should marry someone else. Dwynwen was so upset that she could not marry Maelon that she begged God to make her forget him. After falling asleep, Dwynwen was visited by an angel, who appeared carrying a sweet potion designed to erase all memory of Maelon and turn him into a block of ice. God then gave three wishes to Dwynwen. Her first wish was that Maelon be thawed; her second that God meet the hopes and dreams of true lovers; and third, that she should never marry' (borrowed from Wikipedia, othe

Creating a TARDIS (correctly using capitals now after previous admonishments by my pedantic husband) has, I can confidently declare, been my second favourite present make ever (only bested by a crocheted honeycomb frame made for my bee-keeping mother). It may indeed have a wibbly-wobbly roof (angle of the above picture is flattering!), cheerfully wandering letters on the 'police box' signs and a tendency towards a leaning base, but I am sadly very proud of my little blue box. Part of the pleasure definitely comes from anticipating the look on my brilliant Dr Who-loving friend's face as he opens the box it's travelled north in. Concerned about any misunderstanding, I've taped an 'it's not shoes!' note to the top so as to avoid even momentarily confusion when presented with a peppermint green Clarkes box. Once he fights his way through the swathes of bubble wrap (it was a big box), he'll be the wondrous owner of this mini delight. I'm thrille