I’ve always been fascinated with tiny houses. We live in a house that most Americans would think is tiny, but I’m really very taken with really very small homes. Japanese apartments, caravans, itty bitty houses.
A dear friend of mine (who lives in a beautiful small house with a big heart) is drawn to houses as an art motif in the same way in which I gravitate toward bowls. When we have art days at her (big) house, (little) houses are likely to be on the menu. Here is a house she made me. My moribund camera had trouble capturing its beauty, but you can get a sense of it here:
It’s beautiful. There’s a tiger on the roof, and an inviting flickering light inside. It sits about a hands breadth high.
Even more wonderful–she taught me how to make them. Here are three that went off in yesterday’s mail to someone special (along with a box of the flickering pretend candles to light them up on winter nights):
I mailed these off and will be sorry to see them go. But I’ve kept two for myself because–you know–I really do love a tiny house.