I spent a long day inside; curled up and hidden away from the sudden and unwelcome return to winter. Not much to report on as far as the day is concerned. Ah, well. I’ll just get down to work. After packing away some incredible, delectable, cream-and-cherry-filled Gâteau Basque courtesy of my pastry chef of a mother:
it was time to get to posting...
Today’s piece signaled the return of the drawing pen, and the temporary abandonment of my beloved pastels. Without really thinking, I grabbed a sheet of paper and began to doodle. Oh, wait...the word! I’m getting ahead of myself...
tack n. A small, short nail with a flat head; a sewing stitch used to hold something temporarily; the changing of a sailboat from one direction to another. v. To change the direction in which a sailboat is going.
I had forgotten about the other use of “tack” as a verb (Maybe I’d blanked out the memories of dashing across our sailboat, nearly missing knocking myself out cold on the boom, lunging for the rope to pull hard against the winch while bracing my feet against the side of the boat and finally tying off after letting loose a stream of cursing aimed at the captain for letting the boat tip more than 5°.) and decided to focus more on its use as a noun. I thought it would be funny to illustrate a celebration of sorts centering on a tack. I, myself, have found that I have an ongoing love/hate relationship with tacks. As soon as I am hanging up a bit of art, they are the greatest invention mankind has yet to create. The story changes quickly, however, when a floor-residing stray decides to embed itself in my heel. Despite their occasional scream-inducing effects, I got a kick out of creating today’s piece.
I hope you enjoyed this post, and your night. Thanks for reading!
Xx
-r
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