Gratitude

I haven't been drawing lately as I have been making jewellery which include necklaces, bangles and earings. It is very relaxing to bead and use lots of colour. I use crystals and pieces of marquesitte etc in my jewellery. Since 2001 my son and I have been going to a lapidary club and cutting and polishing (cabishon) semi precious stones. We lived in the country in Australia in a town called Oberon for over three years. There is a crystal quarry and lots of fossicking areas that we used to frequent and dig for sapphires. It is very addictive if you find anything and leaving the fosscking site is not easy. My ex husband who is Syrian and the reason I lived in Syria, has returned to his homeland with his new wife and two small daughters. I am good friends with his new wife who is quite a few years younger than me. She has lived in Australia since 2003 and my twenty one year old daughter, Yasmin loves her and her three and two year old sisters, Kinda and Jilnar. Lena, my daughters stepmum has become one of my closest friends. Her daughters call me aunty Eva and I adore them. Kinda has been crying for me in Syria because I have been her aunty, grandmother and only older relative of sorts in Australia. They are returning to Australia next year. We are truly a global society and there is so much sadness when one leaves their homeland, friends and family to live in another country for whatever the reasons. I was making jewellery in a park near Sydney at Thornleigh last week whilst waiting six hours for my son to finish an And1 basketball camp. I met an older gentleman and we got talking about lots of things and I happened to mention that I was a casual teacher and he offered me a job in Hong Kong. The job description included teaching the children of Australian volunteers living in Hong Kong and working with an Australian Charitable organisation. The gentleman had two grandchildren aged nine and ten and I taught them to make a bangle each. They were excited with their pretty bangles and my heart was filled with warmth and gratitude that a stranger would trust me so to teach his grandchildren and even offer me a job. Of course I declined because I am still looking after my son. I would have jumped at the opportunity if offered the same job in the future. Laurie, you tagged me and I have to write seven things that I have never told a soul. It will take time to remember my secrets and thankyou for thinking of me.

Zoe Eva

Zoe-Eva is my niece. I was very homesick for my family and country when I lived in Syria. My mother sent me an adorable photo of Zoe and I drew her in ink. We ate, slept and I even drew whilst sitting on the floor. Most(all) of my Syrian drawings where done whilst sitting on the floor and nursing my three month old baby, Lougene. I remember my eight year old son, Azzam, falling out of his first wooden bed each night and landing on the floor, because he had never slept in a bed before. We had always slept on mattresses on the floor. I used to try to carry my huge round aluminium tray full of food on my head but I wasn't very good at balancing it like the Syrian women. They used to carry large gas bottles that were full, on their heads for great distances. I called the women of Skelbieh, true earth mothers. They would toil in the fields during the day and work in their homes at night. My mother-in-law used to take my cotton nappies off the clothes line because she was embarressed that they were not white enough. She would boil them, scrub them and then hang them out again. We had to think about what the neighbours would say. I didn't worry, but then I have always been a bit of a gypsy. I come from the Hungarian Korchma clan (probably a few gypsies way back in my ancestry).

Living in the Seventies

This is a really old ink drawing on painted masonite that I drew when I was sixteen years old. It is tattered and scratched and the only drawing remaining from my distant past that hasn't been lost or destroyed. At first I thought to repair it but I now prefer to leave it as it is, as it reflects my journey.

Broken Hill

I remember finishing off my drawing in a communal lounge in an old pub in Broken Hill. An old shearer who had drunk a few too many beers was trying to aim his fork laden with spagetti into his mouth. You guessed it, most of his food landed on him or the floor. He was ever so polite and kept apologising to me but I didn't take offence. Broken Hill is in far west NSW in Australia. A mining town with a flourishing art community. The surrounding desert was so beautiful and the colours of the sky at sunset held such magic for me.

Nice Matters Award

Nice Matters award

I am very honoured to get the nice matters award from Jullie of Whimsical Notions blog and now
pass it on to a few other deserving ladies out there in blogland i consider very nice indeed.

My Syrian memories

The majority of the people of Skelbieh were of the Greek Orthodox Christian faith. The local father of the church was a very learned man and could speak and write in many languages. He taught my childrens' grandfather to read and write. He is located far left in my drawing. One of the local musicians is on his right and a map of my homeland Australia is again to the right of him. On the far right is a drawing of a (soo-pea-er), in other words, a heater that uses kerosene fuel. The local wheat fields are represented bottom left. I loved the spring months when the wind would blow the wheat stalks in rhythmic unison and I felt I was looking over a green ocean. I had to pinch myself to remember they were wheat fields.Christmas time was always fun and the children would dress up and wear masks on New Years Eve. They would knock on doors and were given lollies and other goodies. Not a word was spoken and one never knew who had knocked on their door. We celebrated all the religious festivals, both Moslem and Christian. The mud house drawing on the bottom left was the one room and kitchen that my childrens' father and his twelve siblings grew up in.


This wonderful musician was a family friend of my childrens' grandparents. He would play his array of pipes and flutes at all the towns' celebrations. He would often visit and take out his hand made pipe and play a tune. I remember his long nimble fingers and tall stature.

Delicious Pancakes (See-arl-ee)

My childrens' grandmother and mother of thirteen children.
She walked with beauty and grace and could lift hot potato chips out of boiling oil in a pan, with her bare fingers.

Jean

Skelbieh Town

Skelbieh is located approximately 100kms east of the Mediterranean Sea and 150 kms south of Alleppo in Syria. The charming mud houses on the hill were cool in the 40C plus summer heat and warm in the oftentime snowy winter months.

Bedouin Shepherd with Azzam

Visit to a friends Bedouin Tent

We were always shown such wonderful hospitality
and I can remember the dirt floor was swept so clean
that it actually resembled a tiled floor.

New Years Eve

Young Bedouin Woman

Skelbieh Folklore Head dress

Thankyou

Thankyou so much to Jullies Blog friends. Tears came to my eyes when I read your wonderful heartfelt comments. You have inspired me to keep drawing and posting them onto my blog instead of putting them away in between book pages.



Roses of Life


I've dreamed many dreams that never came true.
I've seen them vanish at dawn.
But I've realized enough of my dreams,
Thank God,
To make me want to dream on.
I've prayed many prayers, when no answers came,
Though I waited patient and long,
But answers came to enough of my prayers
To make me keep praying on.
I've trusted many a friend that failed
And left me to weep alone,
But I've found enough of my friends true blue
To make me keep trusting on.
I've sown many seeds that fell by the way
For the birds to feed upon,
But I have held enough golden sheaves in my hands
To make me keep sowing on.
I've drained the cup of disappointment and pain
And gone many days without song,
But I've sipped enough nectar from the roses of life
To make me want to live on.
Author Unknown

YASMIN

My daughter Yasmin

Boab Tree

When I lived in Syria and I remembered my family and friends, I always pictured my country Australia, as a land shared. The first inhabitants are our true custodians, the Aboriginal Tribes. They are a spiritual people and belong to the land and are one with nature.

Rickalilly

My childhood imaginary friend was the nymph spirited Rickalilly. I loved her and wished her to be my constant companion. As a child, there were many nights when I felt sad and confused, and I only had to open my precious book Picaninny Walkabout and there she would be, my dear Rickalilly.

Saladin's Castle wall

There were many happy moments spent in once splendid castles, dreaming of what was and what might have been.

Donkey

I love my sturdy, stubborn donkey. We were driving high up into the mountains near the seaside city of Lattakia when we came across some children directing their donkey laden with wood. I asked the driver to stop so I could spend some time with the children and the donkey. He was most amused that a simple village donkey, going about his daily chores would be of such an interest to anybody.

My Blog

Evas Art is a combination of my writings and drawings. I am at the mercy of my very clever friend Jullie, who owns a digital camera and the abilility to put my drawings onto my blog. I will post my drawings in the coming week. I adore drawing and it is my passion.
Over the past many years there has been a myriad of other interests that have taken my time and now I am returning to my first true love; DRAWING.

During my earlier school years I won many art competitions and my favourite prize was a book called Piccaninny Walkabout. It was a story about two Aboriginal children, a brother and a sister, and their journey through the Australian outback. Rickalilly was the girl's name and I loved her and her beautiful smile. The author included photographs of the children and I was fortunate enough to participate in an art exhibition in Syria in 1994 and I drew a life sized portrait of Rickalilly as well as other drawings for the exhibition.The pictures shows me with my Princess bedouin friend.

The exhibition was held in a town called Skelbieh. I lived in Syria for nine years and the people and culture have left me with a heart full of inspiration and love for their beauty and history.