Objects that mean something to us

One of the USkTalks Challenge (from Oliver Hoeller) last week was to combine various objects that you collected during your travels into one vignette. As it turns out, it happened to match the theme for our Urban Sketchers Dublin get-together, which was to bring an object that means something to us.

A number of very personal stories were told, about family, friendship and life's journey.

The object I chose was the big Japanese doll I've had since I was 21. It was brought to me as a present all the way from Japan by my good friend Shinobu. We had been pen-friends since the age of 16, and we met for the first time for a few days when Shinobu travelled to Europe for a little over a month while in college. Her English wasn't as good as it is now. My Japanese was zero. We were not as confident as we are now. But it meant so much to meet her. And we kept writing to each other. Sometimes there would be longer periods of time between our letters. But we always wrote back. And then in 2011, I went to Japan with my husband, and we met up with Shinobu for a day. We were so excited to see each other again. We talked, we hugged, we exchanged presents. We visited the science museum in Nagoya. We had lunch together - tonkatsu I think (my memory of food isn't great, but I do love Japanese cuisine!).  And then in 2014, she came over to Ireland for 4 days, just to see us. We packed in so much. We even drove to Connemara for a day! And we went to Riverdance at the Gaiety Theatre! At that stage, we were such close friends that we started Skyping each other every Sunday. And we still do. Brendan and I have been to Japan twice since, and we've met up with her, travelled together, met her family. And we're hoping that the current travel restrictions will be lifted by October and that it will be safe to travel by then.

So, I am very happy to have this sketch as the last page in my current sketchbook (Seawhite of Brighton, watercolour paper, lovely quality). Which is also the last page of my Bloomsday sketchbook contribution, whether Bloomsday happens this year or not! I thought a more tender note was appropriate, thinking about motherhood, children, family and quiet reflection.

'A mother watches me from her doorway. She calls her children home in their dark language. High wall: beyond strings twanged. Night sky, moon, violet, colour of Molly's new garters. Strings. Listen'