I present to you:
felt pins + button badges + prints
For the past six months, my friend Caroline and I have been working in half-secret on a small project of ours... How it came to be is still up for debate, but after several crafting evenings, random post-it doodles, and sincere praises for each other's artsy talents, Caroline aka Carotte and I, Veronic aka Lychee, saw that our hobbies could be shared with a wider audience via the wonderful site that is Etsy - your place to buy and sell everything handmade... it doesn't get more beautiful than that.
We worked on building a first set of items to launch our shop. But seeing as Caroline had already made a few pins and I could easily turn up some fabric button badges, we thought we'd list them (that was back in may) to get familiar with Etsy and also generate a few views. It was only recently that we completed our selection by adding my illustrations in the shapes of postcards, bookmarks and 1 inch buttons, yay!
We were so psyched that we went on to throw a small launch party to make everything official! You can read about it on our Carotte & Lychee blog.
So, voilà! I've been wanting to write this post ever since we've started our project! What a relief and joy :)
You can find us, Carotte & Lychee, on:
Etsy (shop)
http://carottelychee.etsy.com
Blogger (blog)
http://carottelychee.blogspot.com
Flickr (photos)
http://www.flickr.com/photos/carottelychee
Share your favorite poem.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Sonnet XVII, by Pablo Neruda
I first heard this poem recited by Robbin Williams' character in Patch Adams. I cannot say for sure it is my favourite poem, but it was the first one that touched me. From there on I started researching Pablo Neruda's work online, reading poems after poems and yet, this is the one that stuck.
thanks :)streamers, eh? do they still sell those?? read more
on vélo champêtre