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As a child I had an imaginary twin sister. In fact, she remained with me well into adulthood, popping up when I least expected her to, grinning at me in that superior way which often characterises older siblings (she was older than me by a couple of centuries, but that didn't stop her from being my twin), as if to say "Hello again, you moose! Bet you didn't expect to seem me again so soon". She would settle herself against an appropriately placed fence, wall or tree stump, crossing one leg over the other, oh-so-casually, quite as if she had been there all along, invisibly contemplating my bumbling inferiority with an ill-disguised relish. She didn't have a name that I can recall. She was simply my 'other.
My imaginary twin reigned supreme above all of my 'additional' imaginary companions - which included two twin boys, a beautiful, immortal, Jewish boy named Jake, and a very curious, talking cat - and she knew it. She had a tendency to be smug; an infuriating know-it-all, an exasperating little-miss-fancy-pants, perfectly wise and quite merciless with it. That said, she did have her finer points. She was remarkably loyal, forgiving, amusing and wild. I looked up to her, cherishing her advice at the same time resenting her weirdly haphazard presence. Where she came from is anyone's guess. Childhood itself, perhaps, a self-created mentor with an infinite store of confidence and courage. Or perhaps she truly did exist, and still does, crouching amongst the densly populated wilderness of an already over-stimulated imagination (my own), biding her time, patiently predicting my next hilarious blunder or misguided judgement, which will inevitably herald her entirely unprepared-for re-appearance, and then.... voila! (she has a tendency to appear sitting cross-legged on the tops of wardrobes or slouched inside of an empty bathtub)
The last time she appeared she was disguised as a portly, mustachioed, Belgian dectective (sat atop a fine mahogany wardrobe, in fact). Not entirely reminiscent of the legendary Hercule Poirot, but similar, quite similar.
So, a homage to twin sisters, both real and imagined:
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Orchard Twins
I adore their simplicity, that bite out of the apple.
The 'Ruby' girl again, returns with brand new offerings of apples and pears. Her quiet, ghostly, enigmatic little face intrigues me. I'm quite in love with her.
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Olive Goes Forth
Striking out on her own. Pear girl.
I had choices. I made a version of this image with her feet embedded in the grass, coupled with a lifelike shadow, of sorts, but for some reason this just didn't cut it for me, regardless of its 'legitimacy'.
Her hair is supposed to resemble roots. Of a fashion. No fancy brush work here!ct
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Lullabye
I wanted to capture the visual essence of a lullabye. Perhaps I have, I'm not so sure. The midnight/twilight hues, the snowy forest and the flowers that appear to be trapped beneath ice, the stars and that unearthly glow - there is something almost reasurring about the unknown, the mysterious - as if without it we might just curl up and die of 'reality'.....the glaring violence of 'known facts', the tragic consequences of a one-dimensional existence.
You never know.
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The Portland Twins
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The Portland sisters, of yesteryear.
I have been reading Sherlock Holmes again.... I doubt that Mr. Conan Doyle had much of an interest in pears, but this should certainly have inspired the curiosity of his infamous, smarty-pants sleuth. I can picture it now, Holmes and Watson arriving at Portland Manor, carpet bags in hand, awaiting admittance (as Holmes twirls his cane, whistling to a little ditty that has been troubling him at the violin), only to be greatly astonished by the sudden appearance (instead of the customary maid or butler) of a pear headed young lady....
"Oh! Excuse me, madam, I did not know....." stammered Watson, uncommonly shaken by this curious apparition that stood so proudly before him.
"That is quite alright, sir," said the pear headed Portland sister, exhibiting a rather charming display of humility, "Won't you please step inside?"
"My good lady!" bellowed Sherlock Holmes, "A pleasure to meet you, indeed!"
"Why, Mr Sherlock Holmes!" cried the pear headed lady with undisguised joy and admiration, " I have heard so many wonderful things about you, I do so hope that you can assist us with our.....little problem."
"We shall try, my good lady, we shall try."
Aside, Watson took hold of Holmes' arm as the pear headed lady rushed through the reception parlour to notify her sister as to the arrival of the two gentlemen.
"Surely," he yelled, in a whisper, "Surely there is nothing that you or I could do to remedy such a ....situation, Holmes! Never in my born days have i been witness to such an anomaly!"
"Why, Watson!" bellowed Sherlock Holmes, in a whisper, "We have not been called upon to do any such thing. Please, calm yourself this instant. We are here to investigate a rather dispicable and mysterious crime, the theft, in fact, of several rare and exquisite oil portraits of the lady Constance Portland's jack russel terrier!"
"Jack russel terrier!" spluttered Watson, "You mean to say that we are not here to unravel the.....the....that...disfigurement?"
"I have no idea what you are alluding to, my good friend, but please do control yourself." Holmes boomed, in a whisper, then "Ah! the ladies Constance and Araminta Portland! Meet my good friend and faithful assistant, doctor Watson!"
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Through the Looking Glass, Darkly
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More from my Wonderlanders series.
A little bit sinister, I put that down to the girls faces. Not intentional, but some things are best left to chance. This is the Hall of Mirrors, of course, a sort of dimensional 'spaghetti junction'.
The Spades are difficult to pin down, sometimes they might apear to be cold hearted, calculating and humourless, but they are, nonetheless, quite remarkable, talented Wonderlanders. Levitation and superpositional hat-tricks are their stock in trade. Watch them, and they will disappear.
"....Atoms and their kin can do many impossible things before breakfast. For instance, they can be in two or more places at once, penetrate impenetrable barriers, and know about each other instantly even when on different sides of the universe. They are also totally unpredictable, doing things for no reason at all - perhaps the most shocking and unsettling of all their characteristics"
(Taken from the book Quantum Theory Cannot Hurt You, by Marcus Chown)
xxxxxx
hello it's me again (the mother)
just perused through your latest blog and find it every bit as entertaining as all the previous ones. love your colour change with the green apple and pears. they make you want to eat them they are so realistic.
I can't pick a favourite they are all so very well done, don't know who you inherit your talent from (must be me)
if l could choose one l would choose the perambulater, it takes me back so far in time
to the age of innocence,imagination, and
wonderful childish (things) that are all too soon behind us. all your work deserves merit
l love it all. mum xxxxx
Posted by: pat | Monday, 11 February 2008 at 07:37 PM
Again, I am left speechless. The work here is fabulous as always. I especially love "lullabye" as I am equally fascinated and terrified by it all at once. It gives me a sort of "Rosemary's Baby" feeling in a good way. Who would've thought that could be possible?
I think of you often as I gaze daily upon my "Springtime Sisters". They are comfortably at home hanging above the white hutch in my dining room.
Kim
Garden Painter Art
Posted by: Kimberly Wlassak | Monday, 11 February 2008 at 07:51 PM
Oh Lou! You amaze me yet again. Somehow you take themes and elements in the same pieces and make them so different yet cohesive together. Oh Orchard Twins. . .oh I adore thee!! Xo
Posted by: tiffini elektra x | Monday, 11 February 2008 at 11:31 PM
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make a prints available in your shoppe of the Spectral Twins. The black tights and hair are really stunning in the image together.
~Luck, Love, and Lollipops~
Mary Louise
Posted by: Mary Louise | Monday, 11 February 2008 at 11:47 PM
I like all of them beyond reason, but I like "Lullaby" the most. I would want to be a little child and either push that carriage or lie down in it. The hazy starry frozen sky is wonderful and reminds me of a place I once knew of in heaven, before my life here started, and where my son is now. You find me sentimental? I can't help it, your pictures and characters make me so. They make me feel nostalgic and at the same time I am a little bit afraid, but in a good way, as if I should walk up to them and take them by the hand and flee with them from this world. I imagine that they inhabit your dreams both at night and during the day. How envious I am of you, because you make them come to life, although it will always be a mystery how you do this.
Posted by: Irene | Tuesday, 12 February 2008 at 01:54 AM
Amazing work. I'm so glad I found your blog!
Posted by: Cicada Studio | Tuesday, 12 February 2008 at 03:49 PM
I am also speechless, don\t know what to comment. All your images are so dreamingly beautiful and interesting along with your fascinating text...Where do you take it from? I also dreamed about having a twin sister, and I don`t even have any sisters! But I like to think i do have a secret half-sister some where in the world...Older than me off course. I like the Lullaby, so touching and really brings towards all those childhood-baby-feelings. And the spectral twins...-and their dresses, wow!
Posted by: KatrineK | Wednesday, 13 February 2008 at 08:33 AM
I love love love the orchard gals. Around here, 'pear-head' is an insult but you've made me rethink that. :)
Posted by: kiwi | Wednesday, 13 February 2008 at 04:01 PM
Oh I was always more than slightly envious of those who had imaginary friends as children - I think mine were scared off by my two real life younger sisters! I did however constantly lose myself in books and had to be constantly called down for meals as I just lost time amongst the stories which I imagined and somehow was a part of.
All your images are beautiful and strange and lovely - my favourite though has to be Lullaby - so poignant.
Hope you are well!
xxx
Posted by: Gillian | Wednesday, 13 February 2008 at 08:23 PM
Absolutely gorgeous. Do you ever sell your originals?
Count me as one of your new fans.
Posted by: Jennifer Jeffrey | Wednesday, 13 February 2008 at 11:22 PM
will you be offering prints of these? wonderful!
Posted by: danielle | Thursday, 14 February 2008 at 01:18 AM
Those Orchard Twins do make quite the pear, while Olive fairly crackles with supramundane potential; whether or not she knows it.
I thought of The Ring et al before seeing your comment under Spectral Twins. Such delicious shivers of shadow-born fear, drowning in inky silent depths... only to be saved by the lullabic dream that awaits below.
And goodness more and more of course, but that for another day.
Posted by: Benjamin | Thursday, 14 February 2008 at 01:20 AM
I've just stumbled across your blog, and I am enthralled by your art. It is simply beautiful and eerie. There is something about it that is not of this world - it really tugs at the imagination and is quite special. You are a very talented artist and you've yourself a new fan. :)
Posted by: sarah | Saturday, 16 February 2008 at 03:09 AM
thankyou very much for all of your comments xxx
im a little slow to reply due to the narrowband connection fiasco, but hopefully i shall be back to normal soon - if not, i am considering relocating to another star system.
:)
Posted by: lou | Saturday, 16 February 2008 at 03:39 PM
This is weird. My name is Benjamin too; *I've* just stumbled across your blog and...wow.
You're an extraordinary artist; your work is *so* good. My gracious.
I've used a few of your pieces to create a showcase in an entry on my blog:
http://varkentine.blogspot.com/2008/02/wow.html
With a credit and link to your own. If that's not OK, please let me know and I'll remove it.
BTW I've put the pictures on my PB account, so I'm not stealing your bandwidth.
Posted by: Benjamin | Sunday, 17 February 2008 at 12:47 AM
Sweet Lou.
Amazing post.
You're just too incredible and too gifted and too imaginative and even a whole lot too gorgeous and too everything really. Do you realise there are a whole gaggle of really uninteresting people roaming the Earth because you go their share of creativity?
Could you just please, oh please, add in a touch of the boring, the banal, the mundane. If only to make me feel a fraction better?
At least I'm not bitter.
BTW Lullabye takes my breath away.
xx
Posted by: Sheye | Tuesday, 19 February 2008 at 11:54 AM
I Love your twin characters! I myself am a twin, and I have been looking for imagery of twin mythology and tales, but it has been such a difficult quest. My twin sister and I want to get matching tattoos about our "twinness" because it's the one permanent thing in our lives. Your work really inspires some ideas for us, but we do not plan to steal your amazing images:)
Posted by: Megan T | Sunday, 07 September 2008 at 06:50 AM