Portfolio

A self-portrait done in the tram.
My very first painting in acrylic! (Acrylic on wood)
Experimenting with acrylic — my second painting from my new class! (Acrylic on wood)
Illustration for “Le Marais”, the university magazine. The caption reads : “Supply and Demand”.
An illustration for “Le Marais”, the university magazine.
An illustration for “Le Marais”, the university magazine. The caption reads : “Saint-Louis is a bit like Hogwarts; after three years, you’re still discovering new doors.”
Sketching out ideas for the cover on ecology.
Cover for the Marais’ — the university magazine — special Ecology issue.
A sketch for a story about greedy seagulls.
Sketch.
Sketch : testing color combinations.
Cosy bedtime.
A sketch of my dad. (Oil pastels).
Collaging away!
A thank you card.
Experimenting with quill and ink.
A poster for the British Library, done during my Illustration summer short course at Central Saint Martin’s.
A poster for the British Library, done during my Illustration summer short course at Central Saint Martin’s. The lines are based on a sketch of the Library’s unending shelves.
The Sandman — from Freud’s “The Uncanny”. Done during my Illustration short course at Central Saint Martin’s in August 2014.
Severed feet — an illustration for Freud’s “The Uncanny”. Done during my Illustration short course at Central Saint Martin’s in August 2014.
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In lieu of brakes, use…

Reader, beware. There follows a tale of great woe and embarrassment.

This summer, I spent a week at my cousins’ house in Germany. I had taken a German class the previous year, and was eager — though also rather afraid — to practice my newly-gained skills.

My cousins live in a lovely town in southern Germany, encircled by miles and miles of fields and forests.But enough about that. Though the setting is beautiful, what really interests us (in this case) is the adventure itself.

On my first evening there, my eldest cousin suggested we all go rollerskating. “It’s only for people less than thirty!” he said, thereby banning my uncle and aunt.

Full of enthusiasm, I accepted. This was a mistake. A fatal mistake.

While getting ready, I got a little tangled up in all the gear (straps, clasps, laces, pads, velcro strips, and clips!). However, I eventually made it outside and caught up with the others.

My youngest cousin looked at me and politely pointed out that I had the gloves on upside-down. Perhaps I should’ve read this as an ill omen and turned back. But I didn’t.

So off we all went.

Very soon, I was left trailing hopelessly behind.

My cousins, I realized, were fast.

Pant, pant, pant. I flailed my limbs about, trying to keep up with the zipping bolts of lightning ahead of me.

The next moment, however, I wanted to do anything but accelerate.

As we neared a huge downhill, I remembered a fact which I had conveniently pushed to the back of my mind : in all my years of rollerskating, I had never learned to brake. Whenever the need to stop had arisen, I’d always managed to steer into a conveniently situated bush, trashcan, or lamppost.

Zip, zip, zip. My cousins descended the hill, swift and aerodynamic.

I looked down. I gulped. And I let myself roll towards my doom.

Everything went very fast. Suddenly, I turned, lost my balance, and rammed into the ground, falling hard on my knee. (Later, I would notice that my joint had turned an interesting shade of greenish purple. It would’ve made rather a nice abstract painting).

After this slight incident, I think my cousins realized that perhaps I should not have come. Much to their credit, though, they were perfect sports about it, and waited for me, showing me where I could walk in the grass instead of having to go down hills.

Nevertheless, I was awfully embarrassed, and certainly felt much older than thirty. In fact, I felt a bit like an elderly aunt being introduced to some new technology by her young nieces and nephews. Except that, in this case, the technology was rollerskating.

After several more spectacular falls, I decided to perform one to crown them all.

We were going down yet another hill. I was gaining more and more speed. I had to do something, and quickly. A handy hedge loomed ahead. I veered off the path, bumped over the grass and — CRUNCH! I sunk, spread-eagled, into the hedge.

Just like in cartoons.

Reader, you were promised a tale of woe and embarrassment. If this is not the definition of ridiculous, I don’t know what is!

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The In-Between Month

I love October.

A rainy windowpane; a crisp, sunny morning; the crunch of an apple; the smile of a jack-‘o-lantern; the shuffle-shuffle of leaves.

It’s a month full of simple pleasures, of oft-repeated traditions.

Inside, October means getting out slippers, bathrobes, blankets and furry socks. Turning up the heat, closing the door, and snuggling down, your hands cupping a steaming mug of tea.

With October come hearty soups and stews, squat little pumpkins, hunched on people’s doorsteps, and oozing apple pies. But above all, October means the smell of pumpkin bread, wafting in warm waves from the kitchen, as my mother pulls out the fresh loaves.

Weather-wise, October has a few tricks up its sleeve. It starts out sunny and warm, leading us to believe it’s still summer — something we are only too ready to fall for. However, under its cloak hides winter, ready to stretch out its icy fingers.

Though <i>we</i> may be deceived by the warm spell, the trees know better. Already, their leaves are falling, gathering in mulchy piles on the ground.

Every morning when I pay for the tram to glide me along the avenue, I am also buying a front-row ticket to the park, in full dress rehearsal : robes of purple, yellow, orange, ochre and red, a glorious blaze of colors.

In the nearby woods, the earth is covered in blankets of leaves. Beechnuts crunch underfoot. Now and then, a hurried chipmunk scurries about in the underbrush, an acorn firmly clasped in its mouth.

Everywhere, nature is readying for the winter ahead.

Slowly but surely, the humans are too. Already, there’s a feel of Christmas in the air, so thick you can almost taste it. Visions of fir trees and turkey creep into people’s minds, as stores put up early decorations.

I find October’s duality wonderful. October signals the end of summer and the beginning of the holiday-season. It is a month of beautiful colors, of edible traditions, a month of warmness and togetherness, of tea and of magic.</span>

It’s a crisp apple.  It’s a patchwork quilt.

It’s a piece of pumpkin bread.

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What have I been up to?!

It’s been ages — heavens, almost a year! — since my last post. Either you think ClearlyHomemade has disappeared into oblivion, or you’re wondering what I’ve been up to.

Rest assured, reader, I have not been idle. True, I haven’t been doing as many cards as before. I’ve actually been drawing lots of scenes or fun stuff that I make up. (I’ve also been reading and walking a lot. And making more brownies than would be advisable).

Here is a glimpse of some of the things I’ve drawn these past months.

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Merry Christmas! Hohoho!

Christmas is definitely approaching! Wether you’re planning on sending out cards to the couple hundred people on your contact list, or just to a select few, ClearlyHomemade is the place for you! (Here are some examples of our most recent Christmas creations).

Noël approche à grands pas! Que vous prévoyez d’envoyer des cartes à vos centaines de contacts, ou juste à quelques personnes chanceuses, ClearlyHomemade a ce qu’il vous faut! (Voici quelques exemples de nos cartes de voeux les plus récentes).

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Floating away

This card is super for an 8th birthday (or any other occasion which might involve the number 8 — an eigth grandchild, 8 years of marriage, someone who came in 8th in a race…). It is available for any number, or with just a simple balloon.

Cette carte est géniale pour un 8eme anniversaire (ou n’importe quelle autre occasion qui pourrait impliquer le nombre 8). Elle est disponible pour n’importe quel chiffre, ou bien juste avec un simple ballon.