The Hermitage
Wednesday, 25 November 2009

An English Arcanum

›
A WHILE AGO I told you of three mysterious hares who shared between them just three ears and yet had two ears each. All over Dartmoor the...
52 comments:
Wednesday, 4 November 2009

The November Clock

›
T HE NIGHT has begun to nibble at the tail ends of the days more and more, so that at 5 o'clock the chickens have retired to their coop...
76 comments:
Monday, 26 October 2009

The falling leaves and the strange case of vitamin B12

›
O N RETURNING to our hilltop parking spot, we found all well, a few more brown leaves blowing about the wheels, and a sense of relief at be...
96 comments:
Saturday, 17 October 2009

At my parents' house

›
T HIS WEEK we have been visiting our families. We left our house parked in its Dartmoor field and hopped on a bus and then a train. The tra...
81 comments:
Tuesday, 6 October 2009

A new hill in October

›
A ND SO THEY DROVE their house again to a new place. As the hills pulled up their autumn hoods and leaned into the wet winds of October, one...
24 comments:
Friday, 25 September 2009

Self Portrait

›
A THIRD DECADE BEGINS ! And in need of some "proper" painting practice, I decided to set my last day of twenty-nine in oil paint....
97 comments:
‹
›
Home
View web version

About Me

My photo
Rima Staines
Dartmoor, United Kingdom
Rima Staines is an artist using paint, wood, word, music, animation, clock-making, puppetry & story to attempt to build a gate through the hedge that grows along the boundary between this world & that. Her gate-building has been a lifelong pursuit, & she hopes to have perhaps propped aside even one spiked loop of bramble (leaving a chink just big enough for a mud-kneeling, trusting eye to glimpse the beauty there beyond), before she goes through herself.

Always stubborn about living the things that make her heart sing, Rima has lived on wheels a few times in her life. She's currently rooted in mossy South Devon, halfway between moor and sea.

Rima’s inspirations include the world & language of folktale; faces of people who pass her on the street; folk music & art of Old Europe & beyond; peasant & nomadic living; magics of every feather; wilderness & plant-lore; the margins of thought, experience, community & spirituality; & the beauty in otherness.

Crumbs fall from Rima’s threadbare coat pockets as she travels, & can be found collected here, where you may join the caravan.
View my complete profile
Powered by Blogger.