I most certainly have not been buying miniatures at the op shop

Because, of course, I most definitely do not need any more miniatures for quite some time.

But I picked up this lovely bamboo placemat for $2.50 this morning, and must have accidentally dropped it here on the way to the dining room:

(Silly me, I must still be exhausted from yesterday...)

Speaking of exhausted, I figured I needed this $2.50 fan to keep me cool as I work in the studio for the next few weeks. It has such lovely intricate fretwork on it, don't you think?

 And perhaps next year I'll start wearing jewellery to work: in which case I thought this $5 brooch would be fun and quite appropriate.

 And these two $4.50 shadow boxes? Oh: I'm thinking about redecorating around here during the break, and thought perhaps a bit of colour would be nice for a change...

See? No new miniatures whatsoever.

So. Very. Tired.

Work is (finally) done for the year, but decided to bite me in the bum as a farewell, so I had a crazy-busy morning and left completely exhausted.

I tried to come up with something to blog about, but my brain is on strike: instead, here's a link to a post from Daily Dolls' House December 2016 with a round-up of bed-related posts.

And a random bed-related photo:

(There. I blogged. Tick. Now I'm going to my (full-sized) bed. I may be some time...).

Thursday throwback: to the very beginning

With one day to go until I'm off work for the year, and a super-busy day trying to get as much through as I can before then, on the way home this afternoon I was pondering my blogging options when I'm completely exhausted.

And I realised that it's Thursday: so I can completely justify a throwback post (Huzzah!).

Even better, when searching for this post to throw back to, I also noticed that I don't seem to have shared any photos of the completed room boxes except for the bathroom (which has since been shared far and wide).

Let's remedy that then*, shall we?

There were (are) two room boxes: which, when put together make up the apartment. On the left is the bedroom/ bathroom module.

The bedroom is so very 80s, with black painted window frames (I did the same to the bathroom of my flat in the very late 80s/ early 90s) and black venetian blinds. The carpet is red (?!) and I was very proud of the cat (which I'd recently made as a mini-club project) and the rug I'd stitched.

(I'm giggling as I realise that, 30 years later, I have a white and black spotted doona cover, and several pairs of black and white spotted pyjamas: some tastes don't seem to have changed...)

On the other side of the room is a wardrobe door with a robe hanging from it, and a small table and director's chair with a notice board on the wall above. And a portable TV (remember those?) pointing towards the bed.

And, for this room box I had my first try at miniature knitting:

(*But not completely as. after a year here, I still haven't managed to get my printer and laptop talking to each other, so I don't have any electronic photos of the lounge/ kitchen area: and aren't about to start taking photos of my printed photos to load. Not just yet, anyway...)

Tiny tip-shop treasures

I know I bang on, on a fairly regular basis, about how awesome our tip shops are.

And I know I've previously mentioned that they have an fabulous social-media presence where they post new finds regularly to Facebook, with the option to text or call them to put things on hold.

Which is how I managed to snaffle this reading chair for my library (because in my new home, there is no Room of Shame) for $40, while in bed, in my PJs:

 and this excellently-themed side table for the same amount, at 9pm one evening:

Similarly, I spotted this basket full of minis one evening and popped it on hold:

I recognised most of the pieces in the lot, and already had quite a few of them, but this set of crockery mystified me:

They are most certainly mass-produced, but aren't ringing any bells. And my requests through mini-related social media groups haven't turned up anything.

Do you recognise them at all? My gut says they're German, but I don't know why...

Buckland on the bus

The Australian National Capital Artists have a new gallery: in an old bus.

This (tiny) gallery pops up in various spots around the city, and I was determined to find the time to visit it when Tom Buckland had his exhibition Work, Lovelife, Miscellaneous there earlier in the year, as I'd really enjoyed his previous work that I'd seen.

I wasn't disappointed: as I entered the space I spied shelves displaying a collection of everyday objects made of cardboard, with peep holes and buttons: just waiting to be picked up and peered into to discover teeny tiny worlds.

One of these days I hope to be able to justify buying one for myself...

Op shop inspiration

(It's OK: I bought this lot before my declaration that I most definitely do not need any more miniatures for quite some time...)

I've been op shopping* a lot over the past year, looking for things I need (and didn't know I needed) for my new home: I've kept myself on a pretty tight budget as I've heard that paying as much as possible off your mortgage in the first year makes a huge difference to how long you spend paying it off, and how much interest you pay in the end.

(I've also been haunting Gumtree, as I've been playing the 'Let's pretend we're just flatting' for the first year game, but that's a whole different post).

On a recent op shop jaunt I picked these up from various op shops for a total of $15:

As there was a piece of the picture frame missing already, I planned to pull it apart and reuse the wooden strips in a rustic scene.

I started that on yesterday,

but then stopped as I saw this:

 changed my mind, Blu-tacked the missing bits back on, and started nutting out a scene.

I'd originally thought of some sort of hipster food spot, but since the only drinks fridge I currently have is a Coca-Cola-branded one, I realised that wouldn't work...

And since the rest of the op-shopped pieces were asian-flavoured, the way forward seemed clear.

Still playing, I gathered bits from the stash that might suit, creating the story as I went along:

It's a small kitchen so they display the dishes of the day under the counter for customers to chose from.

Trays and takeaway cutlery are available at the register, if you choose to 'dine in'.

(Actually, the kitchen is so small, I'm not sure it is legal, but we'll ignore that for now...

 as we will the situation out the side...)

It's only half-done, and I had many plans to flesh it out tonight but the air is smokey, and I started in a new team today so I'm a bit buggered and will get back to this later (hopefully tomorrow).

(*thrift shopping for those of you in the US, and charity shopping for those in the UK. The rest of the world, you're on your own, but I'm sure you know what I mean!)

The miniature show

Yesterday's mention of the 2017 ACTME show made me realise I had the photos I took at this year's show tucked away somewhere. Not that I took very many, as I was rather distracted by full-size-home issues at that time.

(So distracted, in fact, that it would seem that I've completely forgotten what I bought. I suspect not very much...)

This was the first thing that caught my eye: a stool made with an old New Zealand penny, which I thought was a brilliant idea and one I wanted to replicate when I got the time and inclination.

It was part of a modern florist shop, which also contained this scratch-built kitchen:

 and this very English-looking bedroom:

The whole building was for sale, and I realised that the owner was sitting next to it so got chatting.

Her name is Alli (aka the house that ivy built), and she restores and styles dolls' houses to sell to raise money for animal rescue.

Two other scenes got my attention: this one summed up how I suspected I'd be feeling over the next few months (and boy was I right!),

 while this one was serene and classic and in my favourite colours.

(Alas I neglected to note down who made which scene, or if I did I've misplaced it...)

In the studio: the miniature edition...

Looking through the photos I used for my Uppercase magazine Subscriber studio submission, I realised that I don't seem to have ever done a miniature studios wrap up.

So in the spirit of Daily Dolls' House December, may I present some (miniature) studio inspiration from my blog, based on the photos I submitted to Uppercase:

1. Chair and table from a 1990s club bedsit project, repainted for a miniature advent swap in 2010.

2. Pictures of a studio I created in April 2011, inspired by several swaps from blog buddies.

3. Another studio scene I created, this one in May 2011.

4. 2011 was a busy year for studios around here: this one from September 2011 is a cushion-making small business...

5. In March 2012 I apologised for taking so long with a swap...

(in two scales).

6. And finally, in 2017 I announced a new studio after a trip to that year's ACTME show.

In the studio

While I was in the middle of the craziness and stress of packing to shift (date not quite known) from a place I'd lived in for almost 20 years and (as no doubt you noticed) not being in a position to find the time or space to create any minis, Uppercase magazine announced submissions for a feature on subscriber studios.

'Rats' I thought as I looked around my studio, which was stacked with boxes. 'That's not going to work'.

And then I decided that I had nothing to lose, and got cheeky.

Uppercase had previously published an article I'd written about miniatures. And the submission didn't say that the 'subscriber studio' had to be full-sized. So I decided that there was nothing to lose, and submitted pictures of some of the miniature studios I'd created over the years, saying:

'I bought my first home earlier in the year and am waiting for the tenants to move out, and packing my current residence (including my studio).
While my current studio is in boxes, I can dream of my new space and gain inspiration from the one-twelfth scale miniature studios I've previously created...
(I'm delighted to see how often Uppercase magazine features in my miniature creative spaces!)'

 And so I was very pleased to read this, in the magazine, on the balcony of my new home, soon after I'd (finally!) moved in:

The void: reimagining Enrico Taglietti

For almost 20 years of my time in Canberra I lived opposite (and, for a short while, worked in) Dickson Library, a building designed by Enrico Taglietti who was an Italian born but Canberra-based architect who designed many buildings in Canberra before his death earlier this year.

So when I heard that Craft ACT had an exhibition of works where artists reimagined or responding to his work as part of last year's Design Canberra festival, I made a note to go have a look if I got the time in between crazy packing to prepare for my move.

And then I got a message from a friend telling me that I had to go: there was a miniature there that she thought I might rather like.

So I did. And I did.

Entering the Paterson house from the garage is a cardboard model created by Emily Paterson of (obviously) The Paterson House in Aranda (ironically, just a couple of suburbs away from where I shifted to the following month).

Luckily for me, both financially and space-wise, it had already sold by the time I visited it...