Fulgenzio (sold)

Fulgenzio

   ’Twas round midnight, and Elisabeth was walking slowly on the path across the Old Wood, taking every step with excruciating care, for fear of stumbling on a root or a stone covered by the leaves. She was carrying just a little lamp, whose light was too weak to chase the heavy darkness looming around her but a few yards before her feet. And she was scared. 
   She would have never entered that wood if she hadn't been dared to, and she was too stubborn to turn a bet down. But she was scared. Little voices seemed to resound in the wood as the wind gushed through the tree branches, and Elisabeth anxiously looked around, squinting her eyes in the painstaking effort to perceive a shape in the pitch black night.
   Then she heard it. “You gotta be kidding me!”, a little voice said. Elisabeth froze.
   This was no wind.
   “Really? two mosquitoes? Not again!”
   Elisabeth was unable to stop her feet from advancing toward the source of the sound. It seemed to come from behind a thick bush. As she peered over the bush, an intense glow forced her to close her eyes, as a little but deep voice shouted 
   “Now what???”
   Elisabeth did not know what to reply, who was addressing her, or even whether she was being addressed at all. 
   “That’s wonderful. I was really wondering why Gigantor wasn’t showing up”. Elisabeth opened her mouth and tried to say something, as her eyes adjusted and she could see that the glow was coming from somewhere on the ground “I…I am not Gigantor, I…my name is Elisabeth, but you can call me Beth”. She realised that sounded a bit funny.
   “Look, nice to meet you, giant human lass, but as you can see I have a lot on my mind, right now, and I really have no time for you” said the voice bitterly.
   Elisabeth said: “but…who are you?” as she could finally see that the glow was produced by something similar to a big mushroom.
   “What do you want?” said the mushroom. “let’s get this over with, but please, let’s not go through the whole it’s-a-miracle-thing drama , alright?”. Elisabeth could not stop herself “but you are a talking mushroom, thats a miracle…..”
   “What did I just tell you?” yelled the mushroom, “did you fall off the crib when you were a baby Giant?”
Elisabeth noticed an owl staring at her from a nearby tree “I tol’ you” squeaked the owl “them big folks are all stooopid, ‘ave to be them big feet they ‘ave, drain all their blood”.
   Elisabeth, raised her voice, trying not to scream “Could anybody please explain me, where I am, and who you are??” She barely heard the voice of the owl softly repeating “…are stooopid”.
   “Now now”, a squirrel stepped forward toward Elisabeth “let’s stay calm. Dear daughter of men, you have just spoken to Fulgenzio, our dearest glowing fellow over there”. Elisabeth heard a grunt. “Fulgenzio”, continued the squirrel “has a…I guess you could say a thin skin, sorry Fulgenzio, a thin bark”. Fulgenzio almost jumped “A bark?? My spores!!! You think I have a bark?  Do you think I am some silly underdeveloped plant? I am a noble fungus!!” 
   “Well yes, Fulgenzio, we all know you are a fungus, (that means a mushroom, Elisabeth) I was just trying to explain the human here the situation”.
   Fulgenzio replied quickly “She’ll know the situation as I stick an hypha up her ear”
   The squirrel proceeded to explain “A hypha (plural hyphae) is a long, branching filamentous structure of a fungus…” 
   “I know what’s a hypha” said Elisabeth “and I do not need you to lecture me on natural sciences! and blimey, Fulgenzio, you know what? You are mean!”
   “Whaddo you mean by mean?”  squeaked the owl “She probably means the mean of nature, it is a philosophical question” explained the squirrel, who was hit by a chestnut and fell off the branch. 
   “Will you just shut up?” said Fulgenzio “more chestnuts where this came from. Will anybody help me so that I can finally have some rest and we can all carry on with our dear lives? Gigantor, come over here”
   Elisabeth stooped down toward the mushroom. A little bug was frantically flying around Fulgenzio. She could hear the bug laughing like crazy.
   Fulgenzio spoke in a whisper “I am sorry, dear Lady, and I really mean it, but these little bugs are exhausting. They are not bad, but when they see the light, they go crazy and they can’t stop laughing!!!!”
   “I understand, Mr. Fulgenzio” replied Elisabeth as politely as she could. “Would you mind…knocking it away for me?” 
   “Yeaaaaa, give ‘im hell” shouted the owl.
   Elisabeth pushed the little bug away, she could hear the weak protests of the bug as it flew away.
   Fulgenzio sighed in relief “Oh thank you, that feels better…thank you everybody, and….. thank you Elisabeth. I guess I was really mean with you.” Elisabeth smiled.
   Fulgenzio continued with a big grin underneath his big moustaches. Then took a deep breath….. and shouted “Now can you all just let me sleep, for fungus’ sake????”

  Copyright (c) 2015 Carlo Galli, all rights reserved

Topuslandia. Chapter 4. Doctor Gustaf Schnauz (Sold)

Chapter 4

Dr. Gustaf Schnauz

“And please dad, don’t be late again, tonight is Mid-summer Eve and there is a big celebration down in the village, you know it, I want to go”, said the little mouse, anxiously looking up to his father, who was reaching for his walking staff as he opened the door. He stopped for a moment and turned, stooping down to caress his son “You know it will not take long, I’ll be back before dusk, I just have to take care of our bees, they are like family, they give us their honey, I just have to make sure everything is fine.” The little mouse frowned “You take care of everyone, dad, does it really have to be always you?”. Gustaf kneeled down, his hands softly touched his son’s shoulders, and after a short pause, he replied “This is what I do, this is my job, to take care of the people of this village. I am a doctor. They count on me, they rely on me, even our bees. Remember, helping people is….contagious, like a a good disease, it starts with a little thing and then it spreads around to your neighbours, to your friends, and before you even notice, to the whole village. And it makes the world a better place.” Gustaf rose on his feet, looked at his son again and then left, walking calmly along the trail that ran along the river to the fields, his pipe in his hand. The little mouse stood by the door, watching hid dad becoming smaller as he walked farther, like one of his toys. He could see the handle of his father’s cane, reflecting the warm sunlight of the late afternoon, shining like a brilliant star.

“One day you’ll go with him, darling” said a sweet voice behind the little mouse “now you are still too young, the trail can be treacherous”. The little mouse kept his eyes fixed on his father, now a little bright dot  drawing closer to the woods. “I just want to be with my dad, I want him to stay with us”. The little mouse leaned back against his mother as she hugged him tenderly, still watching his dad. His mother whispered “Do you know why everyone in the village thinks so high of your father? Because they know that Dr. Gustaf Schnauz will be there when they need it the most. There is nothing he wants more than sitting down in his chair, holding you on his knees and listening to your stories. And yet he knows he has a duty he has to accomplish. For us, for everyone. But tonight we’ll all celebrate together. You’ll see, he’ll be back soon, as he promised you”.

The little mouse remained silent for a while. His father was no longer  visible. The trail in the fields was empty, just a tiny sparrow was looking for food, happily hopping among the stones.

“I want to be like dad, one day”, said the little mouse, and smiled.

      Copyright (c) 2015 Carlo Galli

   Dr. Gustaf Schnauz...eehhh...mi manca molto questo piccolino:)..Le sue basette sono morbidissime..La pipa e il bastone sono fatti in legno, i vestiti sono cuciti a mano. La cosa piu' interessante pero' e' che la testa SI MUOVE! :D La sua altezza e' di 3,3 cm!

   Ha gia' trovato la sua casa, ma sto gia' lavorando ad un'altro progetto. Per poter acquistare i miei topolini (o anche coniglietti) potete aggiungervi alla mia lista clienti. Scrivetemi al mio indirizzo email

  gavrilova.galli@gmail.com

e vi mando una newsletter appena pronto il prossimo personaggio.

  Доктор Густаф Шнауц разбил мне сердце, когда решил покинуть меня и полетел к своей новой хозяйке:) Ростиком он всего 3,3 см, бакенбарды мягкие-премягкие, трубка и посох вырезаны мною из дерева. Вся одежка сшита вручную. И самое интересное - голова поворачивается!:)

   В процессе новые мышки и даже зайчики. Чтобы успеть их приобрести, можно подписаться на рассылку. Напишите мне на мой email (см. выше) и я вам пошлю весточку, как будет готов очередной персонаж.

Un abbraccio,

Anna

Topuslandia. Chapter 3. Csilla (Sold)

Chapter 3

Csilla

“When you wish upon a star…”

   Csilla advanced slowly, taking one step at a time, while she intently observed the snow in the immense fields, looking for a twinkle in the dark.

   It was cold, and a gelid northern wind gusted on her face, moving the snowflakes up in the air in a whirlwind, forcing her to close her eyes. She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath.

   Quick, she thought, it is Christmas Eve, you have to be quick. They count on you. 

   As she took another step forward, pulling her little sleigh behind herself, her attention was caught by a faint glimmer, not far from her foot. She smiled, as she moved closer and recognized the distinctive shape of a star, completely buried in fresh snow, just a tip emerging from that white blanket. Just a tip, but enough to be seen.

   It was not without a reason that she had been chosen as Star Collector for the whole village. It was a big responsibility. A lot of wishes depended on her ability that night.

   She kneeled down and carefully wiped the snow off the star, then took it in her hands and held it for a while, basking in its warmth, transfixed by its beauty. A little thing, indeed, but precious. A little piece of sky, a fragment of heaven, a beacon of hope, fallen on earth on Christmas Eve, to grant a wish to a lucky someone. You twinkle, little star, Csilla thought, I admired and longed for you as I was a little mouse, dreaming of touching you, and here I am, holding you. Do not worry, you are safe with me.

   One star, one wish. One star, one little mouse would be happy and content on the following day. One star and joy would visit a house on Christmas. One star and one dream would come true. And Csilla had to make sure that everyone in the village could have a chance to realise their dreams. She carefully tucked the star in her sleigh, and casting a resolute look to the vast field she walked on with a smile...

      Copyright (c) 2014 Carlo Galli

  Csilla e' la mia prima topolina della collezione "Topuslandia" con i vestiti "veri", cuciti e fatti ad uncinetto. Prima li modellavo con la pasta. Anche la testa e il muso sono diversi. Csilla (ungherese "stella") e' solo di 3,5 cm di altezza! Tutta la composizione e' 100% handmade. OOAK, venduto.

   Чилла - первая мышка из моей коллекции "Topuslandia" ("Мышиный остров"), у которой вся одежда сшита и связана вручную. У предыдущих товарищей все было слеплено из самозастывающей глины. Чилла (венг. "звезда") ростиком всего лишь 3,5 см (а ее вязаные варежки 0,5 см!). Как обычно полностью ручная работа, единственный экземпляр, продано!

Un abbraccio,

Anna

   

The Story of Orchene

   Per ogni mia creazione, soprattutto se si tratta di one of a kind, faccio un certificato di autenticita'. Lo faccio nel modo molto perverso complicato, fornendo al collezionista le caratteristiche generali dell'oggetto come serie, collezione, dimensioni, materiali usati etc etc. Ma non finisce qui...La parte piu' interessante, piu' importante del mio certificato e' una storia che puo' trasmettere l'idea che ha la mia opera e le emozioni che puo' provocare... Purtroppo non sono molto brava a scrivere, percio' affido questo compito particolare al mio marito!:)) Con una piccola (ultimamente sempre piu' grande:)) storia lui riesce a descrivere il mondo intero della mia creazione, rendendola ancora piu' unica e speciale.

  Di solito queste storie sono riservate ai collezionisti, almeno fino al momento quando ricevono e aprono il pacco. Effetto sorpresa:) E finalmente oggi posso condividere con voi la storia di Orchêne, il mio ultimo orsacchiotto teddy, sapendo che lui e' gia' arrivato alla sua nuova casa. 

   Spero che vi piacera' tanto quanto a me...:)

   Для каждой своей работы, особенно если речь идет о единственном экземпляре, я всегда делаю сертификат подлинности, указывая коллекционеру общие характеристики, такие как серия, коллекция, размеры, материалы и т.д. и т.п. Но на этом не останавливаюсь (в результате чего сертификат представляет собой толстую книженцию:)))  Самая интересная и важная часть моего сертификата - это история, которая передает идею и эмоции, связанные с данной миниатюрой или мишкой тедди. К сожалению, я не одарена писательским талантом, поэтому это задание возложено на плечи моего мужа:)) Через маленький рассказ (в последнее время все длиннее и длиннее) он может передать весь внутренний мир моего "создания", которое от этого становится еще более уникальным и особенным.

   Обычно эти рассказы-истории доступны только коллекционерам, по крайней мере до момента получения посылки. Эффект сюрприза:) И наконец сегодня, зная что посылка уже добралась до получателя, я бы хотела поделиться с вами историей моего последнего мишки по имени Оршэн (с фр. "золотой дуб").. Надеюсь, она вам понравится:)

                                                                                            

***

   As she entered the old house, she held her breath. She had not set foot there for a long time,  a very long time. Thirty years had passed since she opened the carved wooden door that led to her room. The warm light of the afternoon filtered through the window and cast a bright path that crossed the room, all the way to the shelves where she used to keep her books and the things she cherished the most, the objects she always wanted to have before herself, as a reminder of the joy life could bring even when that joy seemed only like a distant memory. She slowly walked to the bookcase, which was now covered with a white layer of dust, as thick as the silence that embraced that place, once filled with the playful voices of children, the fire cracking in the stove, her mother humming an old melody while sitting by the window with a book in her hands after a long day of work. She gently ran her fingers on the woodwork, touching those shapes she had once been so familiar with. She looked down and her attention was captured by an old photograph, which was lying on the floor, by the bookcase. She carefully picked it up. She tightened her lips as she looked into her own younger eyes, as if staring into a mirror. Her mother’s arm was resting around her shoulder, as if protecting her. Her father stood awkwardly by her side, visibly embarrassed, looking into the camera with that concerned look that people used to have in a time when photographs were still a rare commodity, an event that marked a special occasion, sometimes a once in a lifetime chance. She gasped as she finally looked at her younger hands. She was holding something. Something she had never forgotten. Something she had loved so much she could hardly part from it, even to take a picture.
   Orchene.
   She remembered her father scolding her for insisting to take a picture with Orchene, a toy, he said. A toy. Orchene was her friend, a part of her family, and it was just about right that he was portrayed with all its members, she replied, holding it even more tightly.
   A golden oak grew behind the house, and she used to play there with her friends and her cousins, who lived down by the river. She spent countless hours sitting under that tree, leaning back against its trunk, with Orchene, dreaming of cities, of fancy dresses, of that modern life which her parents seemed to despise so much and which she knew only from the pictures in the magazines she sometimes browsed quickly at the store, down in the village. She imagined she would one day live in an elegant apartment in a big city, Orchene by her side. Usually her daydreaming would abruptly end as her mother called her for dinner. Then she would happily hop into the house where her father was already sitting at the table after returning from the fields. Her grandmother gave her Orchene, her last Christmas present. As the leaves of the big oak tickled the glass of the window in the light breeze of the evening, she looked around.
   Orchene. Where are you my dear Orchene? You would patiently wait for me to wake up every morning,  you would fall asleep with me every night, you waited for me to recover when I was sick, but you could not wait until I came back.
   Tears started to fill her eyes, as she recalled the night she fled with her mother, to escape the raging war that was destroying the countryside as the soldiers were advancing toward the capital. They had left everything behind. They left their home, they left their food, their clothes, they took only a handful of coins and a piece of bread for her. She sobbed in silence as she remembered her father by the door of their house, his shoulders curved under the burden of the events that were crushing his life, urging them to hurry, to go, saying he would meet them soon, saying he would find them. She saw the tears in his eyes in the flebile light of a candle and she knew she would not see him again.
   She could not remember anything else from that night, but a huge starry sky over them. A black deep night sky as they walked on. An endless dome, peaceful, quiet, indifferent to the madness men had created on earth. She remember she looked up to that myriad little shiny eyes and wondered if those stars would ever hear the laments of those desperate people.
   I promised you to come back for you. I did, but where are you my dear dear Orchene? The room was empty, after the looting, after years of abandonment, nothing was left but the furniture. What did she do, that night? She mechanically rose on her feet, as her mother screamed her name and called her frantically. She was still embracing Orchene as her father ran into her room and knelt down in front of her. You have to go. Now. Drop that toy, you and mom are leaving now, it is for your safety. He rose and hastily walked to the other room to help her mother and she was left uncertain and confused in her nightdress, standing by her bed, embracing Orchene.
   Her heart almost stopped as she saw herself crouching and reaching for a loose tile in the floor under her bed. She removed it, opening a little chamber where she used to keep things she did not want other people to see. Her treasures. She delicately put Orchene in the chamber, caressing his head. You will be safe here. Wait for me, we shall be back soon. Then she carefully placed the tile back into its place and when she was sure that no trace was visible she rose and ran to her mother.
   She turned to her bed. Is it possible? Is it really possible that nobody found it? She knelt down and looked under bed. She tasted the floor until she felt a groove between the tiles. She reached down with both hands and lifted the tile. She opened her mouth, unable to speak, as she felt soft fur under her fingers. She took the little thing and rose back to her feet, walking to the window, where the twilight was lighting everything with gold. Her lips trembled as she looked down to her hands. Everything came back to her, as if that chamber contained years of lost memories, contained everything she ever loved and cherished, her lost childhood, her family, everything she ever held dear.
   She could not restrain herself any longer and she started to cry. Two profound little eyes looked up at her. She cried for a long time, she cried of sorrow and she cried of joy, she cried for all the things she lost, she cried because one piece of the puzzle had found tis place, at last.
   It was little, but it had meant a lot to her, and not being able to fulfil her promise had haunted her for years.
   Closing her eyes, she said: Orchene, I have returned.

 

 

   Un abbraccio,

   Anna

Craftroom Project. Embroidery Threads

  Un paio di giorni fa stavo per finire il mio nuovo orsacchiotto quando ho capito che deve essere rifatto tutto...Saro' sincera, detesto errori perche' sono poco paziente per ricominciare da capo, ed e' una cosa depressiva.. ma allo stesso tempo sono troppo perfezionista per sentire un minimo dubbio e lasciare il lavoro com'e'...Le gambe e le braccia sono state staccate, proprio da buttare via...E' sopravvissuta solo la testa..
   Intanto continuo a sistemare la mia stanza di lavoro. Ho cominciato con fili da ricamo. Ci volevano alcuni giorni per organizzarli bene. Ed ecco come sono adesso:)


   Несколько дней назад заканчивала своего очередного мишку: присоединила голову, ручки, ножки..стала набивать тело...и здрасти, приехали...тут криво, там косо, тут торчит, там длиннее...рррррррр...честно сказать, мне очень тяжело даются ошибки..потому что я ленивая, а еще нетерпеливая, и немного тщеславная...(бедный мой муж, сколько я ему кровушки попила своим нытьем:РРР)...но при этом конечно перфекционистка, и все у меня должно быть сделано на 200% качества...Так что сижу, перешиваю:)) И что ни говори, Ошибка - это самый лучший учитель:)
  Тем временем, продолжаю организовывать свою рабочую комнату. Начала я с ниток мулине...Не сказать, чтобы я вышиваю много, как-то начала картину с тиграми крестиком, да так и не закончила, зато ниток накупила видимо-невидимо...Глядишь, в хозяйстве пригодятся:РРР И вот что получилось:



 Prima...

e dopo...

Ho comprato queste scatole all'OBI, e poi ho riciclato un po' di cartone per fare le bobine porta filo...Che ne dite?:))

Per finire, qualche idea dall'internet:

И напоследок, некоторые идеи из интернета:

http://fene4ki.ru/kak-hranit-nitki-muline.html

http://mbroider.net/embroidery-thread-organizers/

Un abbraccio
Anna

La Bottega delle Scope Magiche

   Halloween si avvicina e mi sussurra tante idee interessanti. Purtroppo rimane poco tempo e spero di finire almeno 2-3 progetti, ma sicuramente continuero' con questo tema anche dopo la festa, mi ispira molto:))

Intanto nella mia Bottega delle Scope Magiche ci sono due articoli esclusivi per le streghette che seguono la moda: Pteroscopa (dal greco 'πτερόν' - ala) e Keroscopa (greco κῆρ - cuore). Entrambe le scope sono OOAK, fatte in scala 1/12 e misurano 11 cm.  

Keroscopa e' ancora disponibile:)

   Приближается Хэллоуин и нашептывает мне разные интересные идеи. Обожаю этот праздник, хотя точнее, для меня это просто хороший повод полностью погрузится в волшебно-магическую атмосферу с ведьмами, мифическими созданиями, моими любимыми тыковками. Как обычно это бывает, к самому празднику я мало что успею и буду дорабатывать свои проекты в течение всего года:)) осенний период мне дает волшебный пендель  толчок и много идей. Тем временем в моей Лавке Волшебных Метел уже появилось кое-что эксклюзивное для самых модных ведьмочек:)) Это Птероскопа (греч. πτερόν - крыло и лат. scopa - метла) и Кероскопа (греч. κῆρ - сердце и лат. scopa - метла). Обе метлы выполнены в единственном экземпляре, в масштабе 1/12, длиной 11 см.

Кероскопа еще в наличии:)

Un abbraccio,

Anna

Demon (sold)

Ciao a tutti,

Quasi una settimana fa sono tornata dalle mie lunghe vacanze ma non ho fatto ancora niente di nuovo da mostrarvi perche' ho un periodo di pigrizia acclimazione. Inoltre mi e' venuto in mente di cambiare totalmente la mia stanza e trasferirla in una craftroom perfetta:D La prima cosa che devo fare e' cambiare la finestra che e' di anni 50. Ci vorra' un mesetto. E poi si comincia la cosa piu' interessante;) Coloro le pareti! Non ho mai fatto un lavoro del genere ma sono positiva e molto curiosa:) Intanto sto cercando di organizzare i miei tesori...tessuti, nastri, colori, carta, diversi strumenti...E sicuramente pubblichero' i miei progressi nel mio blog, sono idee mie e prese dall'internet, utili per ogni persona creativa:)

E per finire ecco il mio ultimo teddy bear, che ha gia' trovato la sua casa: Dèmon. 

 Привет всем!

 Уже неделя, как я вернулась из моего долгого отпуска, а никак не раскачаюсь. У меня период лени акклиматизации к дому. Вдобавок надумала я наконец сделать в своей комнате ремонт и превратить ее в идеальную творческую студию:D Уж не знаю, что получится, но моему креативному беспорядку пора положить конец. Начну с окон, которым уже под 60 лет, и требуют замены. А дальше самое интересное - буду красить стены. Морально настраиваясь к такому ответственному моменту, я уже начала понемногу раскладывать "по полочкам" свои хомячьи запасы - что-то просто на бумаге и в голове, а что-то уже в коробочках-баночках. В последующих постах буду публиковать свои прогрессы, надеюсь, кому-то пригодится:))

Ну и напоследок фотографии моего последнего мишки тедди, которого я сделала до отпуска и который уже нашел мамочку: ДемОн.

Un abbraccio

Anna