Art&Ghosts Blog

"I'm Late, I'm Late!" Said the White Rabbit........

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The title has nothing whatsoever to do with this post.

Or

I decided long ago that there is no such thing as lateness when it comes to updating a blog. I'm kinda with Tiffini Elektra on this one........blogging without obligation since 1066, or something of that description.
Why's this?
Well, for a logo such as this to exist in the first place (blogging without obligation) must surely illustrate that many of us occasionally feel somewhat guilty if we do not post with unwavering regularity. Now, before i go any further (which won't be very far, trust me;) i must admit that many of my friends update their blogs almost daily, but this isn't an issue, because they are 'naturals' in the sense that they do so because they love to.
And therefore...I am inclined to update with painfully wavering irregularity, such is the nature of the beast.
This is the point; we should post when we are comfortable, when we are ready. Some people are able to do so on a daily basis, some do not have the time or the inclination..... it ought not to make a difference. If a blog is readable, enjoyable, exciting, welcoming, then the regularity of posts should make very little difference. When something becomes mechanical, a chore, it is no longer a pleasure or an agreeable form of self expression.
And we all want to have fun, don't we?
Yes, we do.

I mention this because i have noticed several blog entries over the past few weeks that question this very issue. It appears to act like some sort of a virus, so i advise a good dose of vitamin C, a box of rainbow coloured tissues, and a few days resting on the chaise longue with a good old fashioned box set of murder mystery DVD's. Or whatever takes your fancy; for my part it would be Columbo or Jane Hickson's Miss Marple  (not that i don't adore Margaret Rutherford's Miss Marple, she is quite evidently a goddess!)

So, break free of your shackles, and blog to your hearts content, or not to your hearts content, whichever the case may be. I personally adore blogs that work both ways, the daily offerings and the rarities. It is the quality of the work, the words, the world which the writer chooses to share with us that matters, and if we admire an artist, or consider someone a friend, we will surely visit their blog without ever passing judgment, however irregular or punctual they may turn out to be.

I am now going to step carefully down from the soapbox and gather my wits.

Sadly, i do not possess a crimson mahogany chaise longue (A reclining chair with a long seat that supports the outstretched legs, says the dictionary, just in case.....) but i do have my kitten's ears to pull so that will cheer me up a treat (he loves it, by the way)
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So anyway, i would like to share some new newness.
More apples, more isolated yet contented young ladies in curious situations........

And my favourite image, possibly of all time:
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Levitating Girl
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From the Magician's Daughter series, probably. Up to her old tricks again. I ought to make a set of these at some point. Getting the head right was nothing short of a nightmare, but i hope i achieved something close to reality in my placement of it.
They're a peculiar bunch, you know, but they don't go in for table rapping, ectoplasmic manifestations, flickering light-bulbs and the likes. No, they only ever concentrate on their own potential, the here and the now, the mental, emotional and physical limits of imagination. And you will find there are none whatsoever. Limits, i mean.

I imagine some sort of invisible audience here (us, in reality, but a mysterious grouping in my imaginings), a silent crowd, a small group of enthusiasts.....possibly her family and friends, who are quite used to these sombre theatricals, yet never tired of them. What she achieves requires no real effort. It could only seem like an impossibility to the uninitiated.

Here is the flip version, i prefer the original, but this one excites me too, for some reason...
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Levitating Girl (the B side)
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The billowing frock doesn't seem right in this version, but never mind that. Why adhere to the norm? I don't much like the sensation of her dangling over some sort of murky abyss here, and that swollen shadow above her lends the image a more sinister aspect than the proper version. She seems less in control here. As if something or someone else directs the act.

Still, i kind of like both. Perhaps they compliment each other. Stranger things have happened.

And now for something a little bit different. But only a little bit different, mind.
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Encounter with an apple (a love story)
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This image has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with love.


I wonder what she could be doing, balancing so perfectly up there, facing up to that frighteningly metallic looking apple. This is one of those open-ended images that might require the viewer's effort to untangle, to fathom their own response. I know what i feel about it, but this is of very little consequence, because  it has reference to a childhood dream, a dream that repeated over the course of many years with no apparent meaning whatsoever.
Falling out of the sky into the apple orchard yet never hitting ground.
The above image has bypassed this sensation, i like to think of it as a resolution to the dream (of sorts).......suddenly finding oneself secure, on a level with the symbol itself: the apple. Now, what to ask of it................ 
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No title, just a nebulous moment - i am prone to them on occasion.
I like to wonder where she really is, because i imagine she is somehow wandering amongst her own thoughts, or lack of them. I sense that she feels stifled by the limits if her situation in this reality, and yet she is also too young to appreciate that for what it is......an illusion.

Remember, this post is apparently championing the idea of limitless possibilities. They are all around us, but sometimes we are oblivious to them. I have no idea why this post is championing limitless possibilities, it just turned out that way.

And now for something ludicrously silly, but i had some fun, ok?
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So untitled it hurts
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Myself as a Victorian Lady.
The choice of body does nothing for my curiously positioned head, but i do love the bleeding heart and the magical insanity of the landscape.

Just for the record, i would have made a dreadful Victorian Lady.
Ask my mother......
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Ok, i'm hungry, so i must leave you now.



Back soon, possibly, maybe, at some point in the nearish future.

XxXxXxX

The World at Large.............

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I am temporarily incapacitated by the heat, the humidity, a backlog of responsibilities, a teetering pile of commissions, The World at Large, and a Fox.

But today has been the most joyous of all days, for so many different reasons, not to mention a scattering of new creations......

Telepathy

 

Whenever i utilise twins, one of them will most often be blind.
I have my reasons, of course: this is more often than not a suggestion of what exists (or may exist) beyond the confines of ordinary 'sight'.
I made this image whilst listening to peculiar yet playful songs......i think the polka dot stockings might have evolved somewhere around Fairport Conventions version of ' Si Tu Dois Partir ' (Bob Dylan) and the White Stripes 'Jimmy the Exploder'.
Stranger things have happened............

Discarnate Deep
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Of dreams and the sea...... and when moons collide.

Titled by He Who Inspired It (Brandon).

Crimson Waltz
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Yet more dreams..........and crimson ideas.
I have recovered a passion for watercolour and acrylic washes. It could possibly be interpreted as an adventure with textures or a desire to fall through time.
I think i prefer the latter.



Harlequin

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A character from the story-I-never-wrote.
His passions are fairytales, anagrams, quicksilver and glass hearts.


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And finally, such gratuitous loveliness..........the kitten:)
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And speaking of gratuitous loveliness, a thoroughly unexpected surprise package of Alice related goodies arrived in the post for me this morning - a set of cards, a picture pamphlet and this mindnumbingly beautiful book by Suzy Lee...

(Leone, i am forever indebted to you for this...every particle of my being yells thankyou very much!)

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Meep!

I must apologise...I didn't photograph the images very well.

My concentration is kind of 'stacked crooked'.

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Enjoy!

And sleep well...


xxx

Which dreamed it........?

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Hello again!
I seem to have been absent for such a long time, even longer than the time it has taken my poor mother to finally activate her typekey account) (speaking of dreams, it was a waking nightmare!)...........but this is sure to make her smile.

So, i thought i might prattle on about dreams for a while, my own dreams, their connection to my art. Not dreams in general, of course, that would take a couple of weeks at the most!

My dreams are either astoundingly terrifying or astoundingly weird. There is no real in-between. Occasionally they are quite beautiful, but for some reason, the beautiful, pleasurable dreams seem to fragment and dissolve upon waking, with much more frequency than the bad dreams do. I find this to be rather typical, really; perhaps fear leaves a more permanent impression, bah!

In many ways i am at a loss to even attempt an explanation, the connections are so ambiguous (god! how that word reminds me of art theory), so ridiculously mystifying that i will probably have a hard time making any sense whatsoever, but i like to punish myself, so here goes....I will do it with pictures.

The Changeling

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I can't exactly explain why this image has a connection to my dreams, but it does illustrate where i am coming from when i try to express the feeling which accompanies them.
Something wildly evocative yet mysterious. Reality tinged with unreality. Something never truly fixed or decipherable. I usually refer to this as a sort of 'alchemy', but not this type of alchemy, just my own weird, unfathomable amalgamations in two dimensional form. 

I love to play with the subject material of dreams; much of the imagery in my poems, daydreams and artworks is certainly a derivative, and not always pretty! That would just be wishful thinking, surely.  
This particular picture is more concerned with the way i choose to interpret dreams, rather than an illustration of a dream. I have this strange habit of transforming the dark into something more palatable, ethereal, stories of unease into pretty little fairytales............and then again, if you consider this and this, you might come to the conclusion that i don't have too big a problem with the representation of darker subject material on its own terms at all.

(I had a long and hideous phase of dreams involving poltergeists. This image wrapped them up quite nicely indeed, and still has the power to freak me out)

Which dreamed it?

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And yet it reminds me so much of Laura Palmer and Twin Peaks that i can't quite see beyond this now, back to my original concept. (yes, i can actually make myself small enough to fit inside of a dollshouse, it just takes a bit of practice, you know)
This is the closest i have gotten to actually making a direct rendition of a dream in pixels.
But which one of me is actually dreaming?
I do get the impression that the right 'me' is the stronger, the left being the more passive. Perhaps this is a sign that i need to learn how to take more control over my dreams, lucidly speaking:) .....but that would take the fun out of some dreams altogether, methinks.
I'm waffling again, i apologise.

Portrait Alice: The Madhatter

I love this picture, it is probably my favourite image from the portrait Alice set altogether.
You see, this time it is the Madhatter who has become the diminutive one, poor little thing (i adore reversals!)
Perhaps Alice introduced something ever-so-potent into his afternoon tea...(you will find that he is actually carrying an empty mug if you look closely enough).....a bit of a turn-around, i know, but i did actually dream this, in all honesty, except that I was the one sitting upon the table. I had been reading this at the time, so i suppose it makes sense.....if you think about it.


A small list of dream influenced motifs that seem to recur in my work:

Birds

Desert (thankyou Bryce!)

Trees

Floatiness (see suki in the sky for a good example)

Deserted buildings (Don't be tempted to analyse this one, it gives me the fear)

Rabbits (just in case you hadn't noticed)

And

I appear to have a strange interest in Top Hats.




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Also, i cannot resist the urge to share my unadulterated joy after having purchased these two images today ( i feel that they truly belong to this present theme)  -
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Both images are by the frighteningly gifted ohmycavalier

I'm so taken with this work that i can't find the right words to express it addequately. To be speechless is often quite the compliment:)

I also love this by missplum (look at those beady eyes!)

and this by sarahblank (more for my book of dreams..)



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I have a sneaky feeling that this post might turn out to be a little on the fragmented side, because i have become distracted by the singing of several top-hatted tomcats outside, performing a midnight rendition of 'Macbeth', Roman Polanski style......(one of my favourite films, actually)!

I'm extremely sorry if i make no sense whatsoever:))

I shall leave you with this...........

`Now, Kitty, let's consider who it was that dreamed it all. This is a serious question, my dear, and you should not go on licking your paw like that--as if Dinah hadn't washed you this morning! You see, Kitty, it must have been either me or the Red King. He was part of my dream, of course--but then I was part of his dream, too! Was it the Red King, Kitty? You were his wife, my dear, so you ought to know--Oh, Kitty, do help to settle it! I'm sure your paw can wait!' But the provoking kitten only began on the other paw, and pretended it hadn't heard the question.

Which do you think it was?'

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SweetDreams 

♥

xxx

Musings, and more tea.

I have been doing what i do best: drinking too much tea, tossing thoughts around like confetti.... idle musings that will somehow, more often than not, eventually transform themselves into something quite magical and productive. We hope.

My Tuesday musings:

. The photography of Lewis Carroll (or The Rev. Charles L. Dodgson, whichever you prefer)

. Rabbits; the loss of, the art of, the love of all things bunny.

. The music that infiltrates my imaginary worlds.

. A book, of magic.

. And Tea.

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So, i will begin with the Carroll Photographs, and the book that i still need to buy.

My thoughts?
I love them, of course. And yet i am somewhat disturbed by the controversy that occasionally surrounds this mans work and his adoration of children.
Do i think that there is anything essentially wrong with these images?
Certainly not.
To me, they are extremely beautiful, innocent, precious, and insightful.
When viewing Dodgson's images of children, i get the feeling that i am truly looking into another world, regardless of the date they were taken, the distance in time between my perusal of them and the actual events and 'scenes' depicted.
I sense a quest, a search for what it truly means to be a child. No banal smiles adorn the faces of his subjects, nor do they appear to delight in the fact that they are being photographed (ie. playing up for the camera). They are quite unlike any other portraits of children that i have ever seen.

His subjects appear almost detached from the photographer : as if they are just a little too relaxed, disinterested, perhaps, or simply so used to his presence that they have almost forgotten he is there. Their poses are often dramatic, romantic, whimsical....surreal. The children seem to have secret understanding of what the photographer seeks to capture...the ethereal, fleeting, and above all - the mysterious nature of childhood itself.
The children are seemingly introspective. They appear to have secrets, a storehouse of knowledge that they do not intend to share. They allow us to take a peek into their curious, private little worlds, only to withdraw immediately, coinciding at that very point where our adult understanding has reached its own, paticular limits. For this reason, they fascinate me, endlessly, almost as much as his stories.

I may very well be wrong in my 'reading' of these pictures, but this is how they make me feel, just my own particular interpretation, so feel free to disagree, of course!

And thankyou, kindly, to the wonderful creator of the Curiosities for scanning and sending these images my way:)
And i know that i have surely mentioned it before, but you really must see this site, not least because Lord Ogglesworth (a rather dapper owl in a top hat) will personally answer all of your burning philosophical questions via email request. I tried him just last month, and i can proudly report that my life has taken a decidedly knowledgeable turn for the better:)

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The Rabbits.
They're everywhere. I didn't quite know just how everywhere they truly were until somebody mentioned it to me, like

"Hey, Louise, what's with all the rabbits, hoh?"

My answer could be taken like this -

My Rainy Day Rabbits

 

They just happen.
And i'm mighty glad they do!
I particularly love the little one at the back here. She seems to be the only one who has any concern for the absconding umbrellas.
A little secret - their eyes are all my own. Except ultra blue, because mine are merely a basic kinda blue. I keep doing this; putting images of my own eyes into my collages. Surely there is a psychobabble-able theory about this lying around somewhere, but if you find it, i don't wanna know!

The first and last time that i actually shared my life with a real rabbit was when i was eight years old. We lived on a farm, so there was a menagerie going on, much to the consternation of my poor mother, who complained eternally about us never having the free time to take proper holidays, like 'ordinary' people. Well, my rabbit, Misty she was called, came to a horrifyingly untimely end between the jaws of our semi-domesticated tom cat, kitty (originale!). I used to have an old Polaroid image of me holding her on my knee, which was very dear to me, but i lost it some time ago, sadly.
But no, i dare say my rabbit obsession does not spring from unresolved grief.
We had so many animal friends that i was quite accustomed to their lamentable short-gevity by the age of about four.

So perhaps it came from elsewhere.....the great elsewhere that i use to explain pretty much most of my strange art. But as long as it keeps me happy......

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The music that illustrates my imaginary worlds?

Try this, and im rather partial to a bit of Saint Saens too, especially his Danse Macabre.

And speaking of the musically inspired....

Twilight Symphony 1 & 2

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And finally, the book of magic!
This, poorly translated, involves my collaboration with the beautiful Marinkel (Maren), a sweet (yet darkly) illustrated book of fiction, Tapestries.

A painfully haunting yet perfectly beautiful story about a young girl called Aurelie, and her curious relationship with Chione, a forgotten, antique doll that Aurelie accidentally discovers whilst sneaking around inside of her mothers old armoire.
Why should you read it?
Well, Chione is actually conscious, endowed with perfectly tuned vocal chords, and has something to reveal to Aurelie that will change her life forever.
And also you should read it because it is a damn fine work of art!

Oh, and i am 'Estrella' by the way:)

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And now, the aforementioned Tea.
I must go and make some!

This post turned out to be ever-so-slightly longer than anticipated. 
I apologise to each and every one of your eyeballs in advance.
When i start to waffle, i really do waffle.

Enjoy your evening!   

xxx

My favourite work by Julie Morstad.