Getting back to Air. I live in the South. The southern south. The part of the southern south where the climate is made of Heat. And Hot. Where wet, balmy, smack you in the face humid hot heatness lives. Where when the tiniest movement of drippy warm air slaps a strand of sticky hair across one's forehead it is called air conditioning.
All this is to say Wind and I? We have more of a history than a here and now, so this is inspired by the tangible gifts I associate with it. The cabochons are turquoise blue for the ocean breezes that have been present at my most treasured moments and colorful dichroic for what I think my guts will look like when they end up splatted on the ground during my upcoming Hang Gliding endeavor, where I will be at the complete mercy of the wind.
Side note~ If you happen across a piece of my sparkly dichroic gut you are most welcome to bead it. In fact if you do I will mark you off the list of creative people to
So here's my first beaded version of Air~ an interpretation of Wind:
Blame it on cool ocean breezes, floating balloons, and cheefully colored pinwheels spinning on a Spring day~all twisted together in a tornado of happiness.
Next up is Water, which will probably turn out looking like a wrecked Ford Edsel.