The Hermitage
Sunday, 25 April 2010

The Day The Dunnock Died

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Little soul in a grey chest You died in my hand Once you sang for spring And flew on those dun wings under the sun Today you trembled at t...
94 comments:
Sunday, 11 April 2010

The Mad Hatter Clock and some spring fairs

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G REETINGS from amid the paintbrushes! I grow industiouser and industriouser this month, with many lovely commissions to complete and work ...
56 comments:
Friday, 2 April 2010

A spring walk one sunny evening by the river

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62 comments:
Friday, 26 March 2010

At sixes and sevens

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I WONDER IF you remember that I was making a series of paintings of the seven chakras as icon-like characters painted on Ikea breadboards...
59 comments:
Tuesday, 16 March 2010

The Hedge Brother Clock

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H OTCHI WITCHI he is called by the Gypsies, Pal of the Boor - brother of the hedge. And in my latest clock he crouches shortsightedly amon...
60 comments:
Tuesday, 9 March 2010

The Hare Mycomusicologist Clock

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M ARCH IS MARCHING on and mad March hares abound. I promised to bring you clocks and so here is The Hare Mycomusicologist Clock . It is for...
60 comments:
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About Me

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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.
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