When I was very young, I had a story book that depicted the wind as a golden-haired puff-cheeked lad, blowing across the page from the top left hand corner. I don’t remember the story, or any other illustration in the book apart from that one. I guess I can’t claim any credit for my own derivative composition:
My own wind is rather greyer and older than the boy I remember from my picture book, and I’m not even entirely sure whether it is male or female. Not that it matters much.
The figure is made from hand-dyed silk chiffon, with an outline couched around the edges.
Although I can begin to see an end to the pages – only about another ten or so to go – I’m starting to realise how much more work there will be beyond that. Stitching pairs of pages together, binding the edges, making a cover, making a lining for the cover, perhaps making a title page, binding the pages into the cover… I wonder how much older I will be when it’s done.