Art&Ghosts Blog

The Destiny of Trees, and other stories...

I appear to still be working with the 'nature' theme. Something stirs within me; my dreams, mysterious, are leading me through a vast, endless forest, populated with curious characters, ancient sounds, and that irresistible aura of adventure. Really.

And they tend not to quit on waking.

I have been furiously busy this past week (worrying myself purple over postal deadlines to boot). Working from home has this peculiar effect on me - it seems as though the work never stops. Ever. Perhaps I will get the hang of it eventually, who knows. At the very least i have enjoyed two exquisite, hedonistic, transcendental nights of unbridled self expression out of the past seven. I cannot complain, for somehow this 'restriction' tends to render the eventual creative liberty almost holy. I was literally drunk with inspiration by the time I could actually sit down and play with my pictures again. I imagine what might happen if you locked me up for a year then released me............it may strike you as over the top, but there's no denying a fact)

So, I continued (or elaborated upon) the nature theme. The concept of returning to nature, whether symbolically (as in the discovery of our true selves) or literally, as in a surrender to the passionate wilds (to which my heart belongs).

There.

And trees. They are a huge feature here. I am fiercely protective of them almost as much as i am of foxes. It often disturbs me, but so do most things that move me on a primitive level. A love that knows no restrictions, no bounds. And trees, they like me, too, I think. Well, they better had.

And this is the only way i know of translating such potent feelings - In pictures:

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And a Rose Grows Over the Stones

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Bliss is sifting through the rubble for that lost key.

OK, that wasn't entirely the point, nor was it terribly serious, but there is some truth in it. I think that i am attempting to illustrate the idea that the search for what we desire may as well be enjoyable...elevating even, an adventure. She knows, of course. She may appear blind, but this is simply my way of expressing the obvious; what she seeks in not without. The houses represent the self, although I'm sure that some of you are getting quite used to (or even bored with) my Jungian prattle by now.

I'm very fond of this image. It pleases almost as much as The Architecture of Dreams, which is possibly my all time favourite creation.

The Music Room

I love the idea of the hair becoming 'lyrical', or at least expressive of a state of mind. In this instance, we have very content hair that likes to dream. It has a penchant for sweet harmonies and sudden cessations of gravity. Poetry hair.

The Allure of Lost Lands

 

Something about this image moves me beyond words. It is the feeling alone that does this to me. Technically, I'm not so sure about her hair, or the horizon, yet it does not deviate remotely from the concept that inspired it. Liberation, a sense of belonging - to eternity, to the winds and the rain and the timelessness of the earth beneath your feet. The rhythm of the earth is in her blood. She is quite possibly Irish, of Erin, and not altogether mortal.

And now, a temporary break in the theme........some brand new anomalies and a portrait of 'Us':

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Penny Farthing

 

And finally, a somewhat deranged portrait of myself and the Kitten..

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A Portrait of Us

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This is hilarious! We both so seriously aspire to that luscious crimson love seat.

Heavily manipulated, apart from the boy.

Enjoy!

Loup xxxxxx

Wolf Lover Wallpaper for the Soul...

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New silhouettes.

TO VIEW THIS SET OF IMAGES, PLEASE VISIT THEIR FLICKR SET:)

Possibly illustrations for the fairytales i might yet write. Who knows? I couldn't quite resist playing with pattern as well as shape, hence the curious, wallpapery backdrops. I also like the idea of the process showing through, somehow. Not caring so much about the 'overlap'. I had a lot of fun with these (whilst listening to Amiina), so there are sure to be more in the making!

Yesterday i smashed my head into a shelf at the local supermarket. Ever since, i have been walking around in a daze, brooding upon it, then, alternately, trying to distract myself from the pain (like a sickening hangover without having indulged in alcohol). Working on the pictures, a nice long walk in the crisp winter light....and several servings of soluble codeine have certainly helped to ease the discomfort.

into the Wallpaper 1

 

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I have been working with the idea of combining natural/wild and domestic themes, symbols from folklore, nursery tales, and then bringing them together in a sort of picture-book style. Well, this is what i set out to do. I think i have come at least part ways to achieving it. The above image, something akin to hickory dickory dock (without the infamous clock), is how it all began. I stuck with simplicity over detail, the main focus for me being the posture of the girl, her braids. Her turned up toes suggest that she is quite relaxed in the company of the mouse/rat.

Two worlds merge here, or are supposed to. The black areas (feet and mouse) may represent the hidden, the repressed, the unconscious (you know, i like these themes)

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Into the Wallpaper 2

 

I have no idea how to even begin explaining this. Folklore again, the hare as a symbol of the feminine, the moon, etc. I like how this particular image appears more like a shadow against the wallpaper than merely a flattened silhouette. We have a full moon tonight (cloudless) and I do tend to get quite excited about such things.....so back to the image: I was thinking of old festivals (English), curious rites, and of course, childhood games.

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Into the Wallpaper 3

 

The wolf and his longing for the forest. A longing quite similar to my own.

The domestic meets the primitive.

Into the Wallpaper 4

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A meeting of minds here.

They appear to be in the midst of some sort of conference. A meeting before a journey. I see them as such, about to set out on a moonlit adventure, a top secret expedition. The girl can speak with the rabbits and hares. She's a natural. They are belonging to two worlds; again, like the images above.

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Into the Wallpaper 5

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I have used this figure quite a lot recently. And here she is again, expecting to fly. And why not? She may just do so in the blink of an eye. Or perhaps she awaits instruction. I'm not entirely sure. She too longs for the forest, the tree tops, for the glacial air to embrace her.

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Into the Wallpaper 6

 

Into the Wallpaper 7

 

xxx

Tsukiko .....

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Some new characters.

I have been working on new heads, limbs, creatures. Painting (digitally) more than usual, figures that will doubtlessly go on into future works. I don't have the time to write much in the way of explanations tonight, but i would like to share the pictures nonetheless.

I stuck with the style of the Immaculate image; simple characters, winter themes/colours, no extraneous details...pesky things! Not in the mood for overpopulated scenes just now.

I would prefer to allow the pictures to speak for themselves, for a change. Sometimes they are like a whisper....... silent, serene, internal worlds...

Tsukiko (rabbit giant)

Have a pleasant weekend.

xxxxxx

The Autumn Circus, and other stories..........

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The Art and Ghosts Circus are recruiting. (please see my profile for details of application). We do this every autumn. Autumn is when we come alive. That said, we already have a small number of new performers and friends that i would like to present to you this evening.

I decided to do away with props, backgrounds, the extraneous details, and even colour in some of these new images. I wanted to concentrate on the characters themselves, with a possible view to incorporating them into new scenes in the future. Muted hues and only the barest of details; this is the closest i get to actual drawing or painting (digitally, of course), working into the faces, expressions, hairstyling, etc. I had a lot of fun with these pictures! I literally had to get up and dance around the room, laughing out loud during the creation of some of them.......particularly the new Proud Sally outing, the Harpy, and a delightfully silly portrait of my friend Maren's cat, Milou....

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Sally Antoinette  

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Yes, Proud Sally, this time playing the role of Marie Antoinette. You may have heard of her ever-so-lofty film aspirations before, particularly her debut, but this is her all-time favourite part, her dream role, so to speak. Have you ever seen a more dignified portrait of an anomaly? Perhaps you have, but please don't tell her that, she is proud after all.....

Sadly, she could not be persuaded to have her hair 'done' Antoinette style. She is almost frighteningly particular about the elegant positioning of her ears.

The Somnambulist

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She's my new favourite.

I had great difficulty deciding upon hairstyles for this little madam, but i dare say that was 90% part of the fun. I finally settled for this curious little number, but i cannot tell you why; i think the incongruity of the hair flowing forwards kind of swung it for me. She is the masked somnambulist, nowhere near as sinister as the Dr Caligari variety, but far, far more mischievous.

I actually prefer some of these images without the distraction of backgrounds. I see them as a sort of sketchbook, of ideas, portraits of characters that might go on to perform in future works. Like Sally.

The Somnambulist is one of the more silent members of the Art and Ghosts Circus. She doesn't care very much for the company of the other circus members, or even our infamous Twilight Tea Parties. She much prefers to sit alone of an evening, playing with her cardboard cut-out shadow puppets by the light of a solitary candle, listening to the radio or the shipping forecast . A bit like myself, come to think of it.....apart from the shipping forecast part.

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Polar Girl

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Polar Girl thrives on the cold.

Please don't pity her condition, she is likely the most content polar-anomaly this side of the north pole. She is one of our sweetest new members, too. A warm, generous, lovely little thing, and a rather gifted storyteller. Since joining us, she has helped to curb the habitual bedtime naughtiness of our younger circus members by lulling them to sleep with her magical, warmhearted stories....tales of lost and found princesses and of hero's who journey across wild, raging seas just to comb the hair of their sweethearts in lost lands.

She also has a Bachelor of Arts degree in surreal folklore.

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Laura's Hair

 

Unicia

 

My unicorn child. Something like a cross between Bacchus and Pan, perhaps, but a little girl...not your average wood sprite. But i love her. Her creation was fraught with difficulties, particularly her legs ( i practically recreated the entirety of that cursed unicorn body with a digital pen and a rather wonky expedition with the smudge tool - best if you don't hear the details).

Another new circus recruit. Shy, conceited, just a touch. She also plays the pan pipes extraordinarily well. Some of the younger members are a little jealous of her, they have taken to tweaking their noses in imitation of her apparent snobbery whenever she passes by. Even her name is suspiciously snooty, the younger ones insist. I am hoping that she will integrate, eventually, join in with their more frivolous games, share those precious peppermint flavoured bon-bons....you know.

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Our very first Siamese sisters.

Meet the Emilia's. It may surprise you to hear that they are our most gifted of all performers, especially on the trapeze (The Art and Ghosts trapeze being renowned for its 'mysterious' ropes, which are reputedly suspended from thin air. Many have tried to debunk this 'myth', but to no avail, it is yet to be proved that anything is holding the ropes up at all...excepting the sheer mind power of the performers, but nobody likes to think about that one for too long).

The Emilia's are both Aries, born at the full moon... on a Tuesday i think it was. They have a great fondness for Regency furniture, fancy ribbons, papery ephemera and costume jewellery, all of which adorn the entire interior of their rather spacious, seven-cornered caravan. This particular caravan suffers from a somewhat poorly documented malady referred to (in magical circles only) as the occasional dubious enchantment - put simply, it was presented to the Emilia's as a gift from their maternal grandfather, The Weird Whistling Warlock.

A snippet of circus history:

This particular warlock was one of the greatest, most expensive circus performers of the last century. His speciality act involved separating the butter from freshly toasted crumpets with mind power alone. In private, The Whistling Warlock was a lovelorn, rather miserable old man, whose preferred mode of relaxation involved hexing the caravans of his fellow circus performers...... particularly those who possessed a beautiful wife and several healthy children. The Whistling Warlock's first and only wife had mysteriously disappeared in 1931. That very same year, a rather handsome young man known as The Flying Fox had caused a sensation all through the West Country with his daring renditions of the Dorset Jig (The dorset Jig is quite unlike the Irish Jig. It is also known to be hazardous to the ankles). The Whistling Warlock's first and only wife was last seen stumbling through a moonlit wood at half past two in the morning, laughing out loud at something just a few feet ahead of her that nobody else could see. (Although further reports suggested that whatever the nature of the invisible entity that had accompanied the Whistling Warlock's first and only wife through the moonlit wood, it had a curious habit of falling into the shrubbery at intervals like a man who had partaken of a few too many ales. Either that, or it was suffering from the preliminary stages of the Dorset Jig Ankle)

The mystery remains unsolved, but the Emilia's inherited their elaborately embellished home-from-home with this one and only drawback; said caravan still wears the evidence of a hex-gone-wrong, namely, a backfired spell. The Whistling Warlock was a genius with crumpets, but somewhat shoddy with the execution of practical magic. Nowadays, the sisters are quite used to the curious, changeable behaviour of their inheritance, but the seven-cornered caravan has a disconcerting habit of turning into a seven-and-a-half-cornered caravan whenever there is a sudden drop in temperature. Love or loathe the winter months, the Emilia's do find it all quite tiresome if truth be told.

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Enjoy your weekend!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Oh, and i absolutely love Dorset. 

I want to go and live there, but i shan't.

Get acquainted with all manner of English and Cornish (West Country) folklore....here.

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The First Day Of September.......

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My favourite time of year is almost here. Soon the light will change, the temperature will plummet, and my senses, all three hundred and eighty six of them, will come alive.

And i like how dark it is at 5am nowadays.

So, a mixed bag of new offerings for a new month. Artwise, that is.

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Claire Voyance (click title to view)
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The emotions, intuition, instincts.
Water, Pisces, a positive response to what is often regarded as weak, negative (also the feminine, lunar).
I have been listening to sea sounds, that old conch in the bathroom.......and sea shanties, my take on them, like Electrelane's 'Eight Steps', for instance, or Sunset Rubdown's 'Swimming'. My dreams, too, concerning the ocean, floods; as if for some reason right now it is my mirror. Too vast, perhaps, yet so seductive.

The Heart of a Stranger (click title to view)

(apparently, if you throw a toad against a wall it is said to transform into a handsome young prince. But i want to know if this same logic applies the other way around - a prince becoming a toad, etc. Although, i don't advise trying to find the answer to this by hurling your significant other over the bannister)

(And to my knowledge, a princess rarely transforms into anything other than herself in fairytales. She will ascend to womanhood, or sleep for a thousand years, or become a prisoner of the heart, but i rarely hear of princesses becoming animals, like many of the handsome princes do. Please feel free to enlighten me. Just a thought. You'll have to ask Marie Louise Von Franz, she appears to know the deal)

And the moral of this story is.........never leave home without your crown.

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I would also like to share some of my favourite discoveries of recent days before i leave you for the night (or month, as is the way it often goes with Artandghosts...)
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From top left to bottom right:

.  Splendid Company by marmeecraft

.  Pony Postcard by enna

.  One Misty Morning by sarahblank

.  Portrait of Little Red Riding Hood by rosieNZ
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(please view enlarged)
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.  The Twins by eekdesign

.  Handsoap by foliage

.  The Day He Could Not Sleep by LaMaga

.  Black Cat by NaturalForms

And one of my all-time favourite images..........
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. Parapluie by marinkel
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And some websites i would recommend:
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.  Jeffrey Michael Harp

.  Swan Bones Theatre

.  Puppychick 

.  Mikel Robinson
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♥  Happy Birthday to my dearest Mirlo (he is six today)  ♥

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And thankyou, eternally, for putting up with the strangeness of my world.

Enjoy September, for it will soon be October, my very very very most favourite month of all.

Little Fictions...........

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The more i think about it, the more it occurs to me that my images are like silent little fictions that could never be written. They remind me of the spaces between words, a pause before action, the turning point on a journey to who knows where. They are my very own worlds, yet the characters that populate them are a mystery to me. They have tales to tell that i am not even aware of yet.

What goes on in my head..........i wonder?

Here are some examples. New things.

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The Bored Aristocrats

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I imagine these two girls are sitting for a portrait, but cannot be bothered acting up for the camera. They are most likely used to this by now, and of course, the real magic is invisible, the props are merely playthings.
Resting between rehearsals. Mellow after tea and cake. Silent and Confident.
We know very little about their world. We are not given access. They are aware of the distance in mind between the viewer and themselves.  The caged bird isn't beyond significance, either; It sings to them, tunelessly, repetitively. It may or may not be mechanical, stuffed. This is a 'closed' scene, but the offerings we are given still retain an air of mystery, like a half-told secret or like the details from the tail end of a dream. 

I'm starting to think these little ladies are a tad smug. They know too much, and they are keeping it to themselves.

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Nine of Spades

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Not quite as menacingly secretive as the previous set up, but a Magician's Daughter all the same.  I like to imagine those little trees behind the nine of spades are approaching, slowly, deviously.................the bunny knows. They always do.
This little girl doesn't have anything to hide, in fact, i am of the impression that she has failed some sort of task set for her. Or else she is confused about it, preferring to walk through the meadow listening to the twittering of little birds. But the magic won't let her alone. It's genetic, you see, a frightful burden. I am beginning to wonder just how many 'daughter's' this legendary magician actually has. p

Ruby

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Another Magician's daughter.
Ruby and the birds. Arctic Ruby with an apple for a head. It is quite obvious that these metallic red apples are not going to disappear any time soon. They are far too applicable.  My characters adore them, and so do i. I didn't actually intend this girl to be so sweet looking, but her face just sort of 'evolved' and then her personality grew out of it, so to speak.
This happens. I don't argue.
Perhaps she is the same girl from the Nine of Spades, above, after finally completing her mysterious meadow task. And maybe the caged birds are her rewards.............or her watchers. Yes, the birds protect the girls. I like this idea. I think i'll stick with it :)

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The Guide

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When i utilize these particular landscapes, it is usually more suggestive of the significance of the main characters or objects that hover within them than as a symbol of isolation. I like the purity of this.......it reminds me of how i prefer to write poems, a sort of stilled revelation that stands alone, well, stands apart from the regular clutter and chaos of my ideas, thoughts and feelings.
A Magician's Daughter again. You might remember her from the levitation picture in my last blog post. The arctic wolf is a puzzle, literally.  He sings, too, but you will never hear him.

For some reason, this image reminds me of a painting by Hugo Simberg, called The Wounded Angel ( I very nearly wrote the Wounded Angle, which is so profound;) and yet the images are nothing alike whatsoever........ i mean, they are nothing whatsoever alike. Same thing, yeeeees! I'm possibly just having a weird moment, but i will share the painting regardless, because it is one of my old favourites.

It used to remind me of myself. A sad fact.

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The Magic Hour

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I love this image. Something about is pains me, but i can't tell exactly why. She has seen something, someone............that has just appeared before her, and i feel a mixture of dread and excitement at what might happen next.
I was thinking of twilight, the division between our own world and other dimensions. Ok, so not as thrilling as a Phillip Pullman novel, but never mind. This little girl with the curious headgear has become witness to something that she will never forget.
Or will she?

I did.

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Future Lives

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What i tried to convey here is impossible to put into words.
This is why pictures appeal to me. They assist me in translating that which i cannot voice.
I am starting to sound too mysterious for my own good now, so i will shut up.

I would rather you made of this what you will.

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Bathroom Sister 2

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Yes, very much in keeping with Bathroom Sister 1, but a different position, a different perspective. The image seems too bright on this laptop screen, I'm just hoping it doesn't look quite as dreadful on others.

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Rafael

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I'm not so used to working with male figures. I am rather unsure about the body in this image, he doesn't seem to stand quite right, but i did a decent enough job curling his hair and perfecting the exact facial expression that i had in mind.  It still surprises me that i can do this, translating something that has only known life within my own imagination into something tangible, visible, almost real.
Nine times out of ten i will fail.
But this time i conquered.......apart from the freaky body, but i don't much care about that. It will do.

A couple of things worth noting about Rafael :
He isn't getting married.
He isn't a vampire.
And he doesn't exist.

(Note to Maren : Nor is he Roderick Usher) (!!!)

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Well, that was a pretty lengthy post, but i suppose it makes up just a little for how infrequently i get to update these pages.

I will be back soon, hopefully, with a little more variety.

"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

Darker than...

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Darker than most, that is.

But surely, this is a matter of personal opinion. Some of my darkest imagery often arises from the most beautiful sources. There is something so luxurious about the dark (both literally and metaphorically), something that excites me, hooks my attention. Who knows, maybe I'm just weird, but i might as well indulge myself whilst I'm here. 

I suppose i am (currently) looking at the darkness as a sort of metaphor for the unconscious, a pause before revelation (before light) or as a secret, shaded place, blazing with potential. I have been thinking about this all day. Today has been rather dark in itself; rain, cloud cover, very little sunlight.....one of those gloomy yet luxurious afternoons that act as the perfect backdrop for such thoughts. And i had nothing better to do, hence the luxury, the strangeness, the countless cups of tea and the somewhat-early-for-me 4th of July blog post)   

So, i found myself working on this peculiarly uncharacteristic series of images called 'Darkly Antoinette'. There is no earthly rhyme or reason. It fell upon me with a vengeance (guillotine), and i have come to the conclusion that my model had much more to do with it than I.

Antoinette...............no idea. Perhaps it has something to do with Marie Antoinette, which reminds me of the guillotine, which reminds me of my friend saying that guillotine ought to be my middle name (but it isn't, my middle name is Marie! Hoh!). Why would my friend suggest that my middle name ought to be guillotine? Well, lots of endings and fresh beginnings for strange little me over the past six months or so....

I shall jump to the images, which all go by the same title, which required me to get familiar once more with numbering (Gawd). I have never been too fond of numbering images) There really is a first time for everything.

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#4

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Someone ventured to ask had i montaged my own mouth onto this portrait, and the answer was no, thankyou very much! (you know who you are;) But i did mess with her eyes a bit here; i was thinking of the Don Van Vliet thing with 'Her eyes are a blue million miles'. But nevermind that, it has little to no relevance whatsoever. Except for maybe her eyes are supposed to be suggestive of some sort of 'interior' distance, regardless of the actual presence of the person/doll.
Up close, yet gone for miles.

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#9

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Alice on her way down again, most likely.
But who knows, you can drown in a dream of spectres. I like to think of this as a sort of dance, a waltz with gentleman ghosts. Look at it this way, they are never going to step on your toes.
(please feel free to add suitable musical effects to this picture, courtesy of your own, wild imagination)

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#2

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A cascade of whispers and crimson hair.
A hushed conversation with the invisible. Sometimes i would like to make something that is almost audible with pictures. Suggestive of sounds, or like a pause between whispers and shared secrets. I can quite literally tie myself in knots with this type of nonsense. Yip!

p

#1

p

Some thoughts will remain pure, regardless the ever-increasing chaos that surrounds you.
I think this image wanted to convey such an idea. Something timeless, ageless. perhaps an antidote to the transient, the terror of decay. And by 'decay' i am referring to innocence, faith.... hope, not the physical aspect of the word.

She reminds me of someone, but i have no idea who it is.

p

#10

p

PLEASE SEE HERE FOR THE DARKLY ANTOINETTE SET AT FLICKR:)

p
That's all for now, but i shall be back soon.

Take care, and please enjoy the dark.

xxxxxx

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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.........................................

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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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l





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

Pretty Luminosty (an update)...........

Pretty Luminosity

 

A process of discovery............

Although i generally prefer people to interpret my images by looking into their own 'mirror' (metaphorically speaking) i actually feel as if i ought to share my own particular feelings about this picture.
This is a rare example of something coming together almost too completely; a concept taking on tangible form with a sort of miraculous accuracy. Basically, the process and the idea are pretty much identical. The image unfolded as a piece of work in complete sync with my realising what the work was actually about (although 2-dimensional, my images always  come about via a sort of timescale, like a moving/growing narrative).

So i got excited about it.

I will foolishly try to explain this.
Ok!
The three girls are all one and the same person (why three girls? i just like the number, it sounds right and it has a nice shape, amongst other things)
.............The girl wearing the blindfold represents the latent or unfulfilled aspects of the self. The girl in the far distance being the end-product, the fully realised, unshackled self.

And the girl in the middle...................is the girl in the middle.

What i love most about this image is the spatial relationship (both physically and spiritually)  between the three girls. Their facial expressions speak volumes. They are somehow aware of what is happening, or so it may seem...........the middle girl appears hesitant to walk away from the blindfolded girl, as though she is still intrigued by this particular aspect of her life. At the same time, her strange little face tells me that she has no intention of hanging around it for very long, either!
Perhaps she regards it with a mixture of pity and curiosity, or even a puzzled sense of unfamiliarity and recognition.
The middle girl is the most potent aspect of this image, for me. She is the bridge (as such) between two separate worlds, and possibly the one who has made the toughest of transitions.

The lanterns can be interpreted any way you like: illumination, guidance, revelation. Same thing really.
These lanterns remind me of certain scenes from the film Innocence (not one to miss, if you know what's good for you), and maybe there actually is a similarity in terms of why i chose to utilise them.......i'm not entirely sure.
(why five lanterns? i just like the number, it sounds right and it has a nice shape, amongst other things;)

.

........................................................

Ophelia

 

So, this is the way it goes: Ophelia got bored with ideas about death and decided to hitch a ride out of there on a discarded floating bathtub.
I mean, why not?

Dishing her toes in the stream without a care,
slowly idling her way to who-knows-where,
the flowers of suicide a-wilting in her hair.

But seriously, my MOMO doll has been crying out for this role since the day she arrived here. I am nothing short of delighted to have fulfilled her most cherished ambitions!

.

..........................................................

No Vacancies

 

I think you get the idea. Or at least i hope you get the idea.
Meet Ingrid, the girl who lives inside of her own head too much, or so they say.
I tell her to pay them no mind, and to keep on doing what she does best - playing with starlight and dreams.

She loves Maya Deren films and toasted fruit teacakes.
Not bad, eh?

................................................................................

StarHorse

 

A sparkly bunch of love and no mistake!
This began life as a regular reversed silhouette, but decided to get colorful and layered somewhere along the way. Some things are unpredictable, like myself.
And this, i ought to say, encapsulates everything that was beautiful about my childhood.
And the parts of it that never really left:)

..............................................................

Now i must retreat to my bedroom and catch up on some sleep.

♥ I will return soon with goodies galore and free lollipops ♥

Have a ball!
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?'

............................

SweetDreams 

♥

xxx

GhostsandArt

There's something about ghosts, it seems.

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(Green Ghosts/The children of Green Knowe, by me:)

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I am not really referring to the well-worn concept of the 'spook' here, but more so to my own impressions and feelings about ghosts.
To me, they are a beautiful metaphor; like fairies, in one sense, and really quite devoid of the usual macabre associations of which they are so famously related. I seem to have a natural predilection for all things spectral - this is quite evident in my obsession with ghost stories, ghost films and even more so, my art.

So what do they mean to me?
I'm still trying to work that one out! But i do believe that my fascination is primarily expressive of a more positive relationship to the theme, as opposed to a morbid fascination with fear, death and terror that might so readily spring to mind - although it must be said that i do enjoy cavorting with shadows on occasion, quite on purpose, because I am a law unto myself.  
I suppose, in many ways, that I'm leaning towards the poetical, the mysterious, the ethereal, the potential with my ghosts.
They allude to my dreams (in which i meet the deceased quite often), those fleeting wonders that assist inspiration, like thoughts and ideas made manifest...or almost.

And my cat likes ghosts, too, ok? especially White Ladies.

(I am also aware that the concept of 'ghosts' will have completely varied significance for each and every one of us (culturally, religious, etc). For some, they are the souls of the departed, electrical anomalies, the embodiment of horror, absolute stuff and nonsense, or manifestations of the unconscious mind, etc, etc. So i do not intend to start up a discussion about what ghosts actually are, by any means - i simply wish to waffle, as i am prone to do on occasion:)

The Playroom

I just like the idea of endless possibilities and potential. That child-like openness again, which i have mentioned before, creeping into my love of imagery and words. The above image encapsulates this very concept, for me. I was recalling a book from my childhood at the time, called 'The Children of Green Knowe' a story about a young boy who goes to stay with his old, eccentric aunt at an old English country house, haunted by the ghosts of three small children who had at one time occupied the very attic room where Tolly (the boy) now slept. Steeped in the type of fictional imagery that i adore (forests that whisper, rooms with secrets, hidden doors and curious creatures that inhabit ancient trees), this particular book, and it's long lost BBC dramatised accompaniment, must have had a great effect on me. And so have many other such stories and films; dark perhaps, yet rarely devoid of warmth, love and adventure.

Little Apparition


And this little wraith is one of my favourite ghosts of all. The stairs had collapsed inside of my dollshouse, so i decided to make the most of it! I cannot decide whether she is a visiting apparition, exploring the rooms of a home she once knew, or whether she is suspended in time, stranded at the scene of a previous existence which is no longer a part of this world.

I am also enchanted by the possibility of her actually being a living creature, dreaming this scene in which she appears as a projection of her self.
I have often flirted with this idea, especially after dreaming about the areas where i grew up. We had a farm, surrounded by fields and streams, rambling woods and long, winding dirt paths that lead to who knows where (I still perceive it with a child's mind). And when i dream of this place, which is quite often, i can almost imagine myself actually appearing there, as a sort of transparent, hazy figure, snooping around the hedgerows and apple trees...... which aren't even there anymore - they eventually tore it all apart and built a housing estate over the landscape of my memories, but such is life:(

The ghosts of memory - perhaps the most haunting of all.



Bridey's Ghosts (Garden Dreams)

These were taken from a project that i worked on with a friend, consisting of paper collage, photography and crepe paper.
'Bridey's Ghosts' was the story of a girl's transition from innocence and naivete towards self knowledge and awareness. The process is painful but also quite beautiful, and that, of course was the entire point. The images utilised the ghost metaphor throughout; allowing me to express the inexpressible, capturing those essential yet intangible landmarks and awakenings integral to a young womans life - in much the same way as a fairytale might utilise the motif of a frog becoming a prince, as a metaphor for transition.

And so it seems, my ghosts are quite as often constructs of the mind and emotions, a visual representation of the transient, just as often as they are products of a playful imagination. I dare say they make up the more thoughtful, 'intellectual' portion of my works, at the same time attempting to throttle the intellect into giving itself up to the impossible.

I'm left handed, you know, it causes havoc ^_^

And my last ghostly offering for the evening....


Mirror with a Memory



What do YOU see in the glass?


I so wish that i could elaborate more on this theme, perhaps it could be part of another blog post.....especially my thoughts and musings with regards to the use of ghosts in film, literature and so on. But time will not allow it, alas, so please accept the following spectral weblinks as a humble expression of my apologies - i have some long, overdue art to attend to...and a handful of ghosts besides;)



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And now for those ghostie links...you know you want to:)


.  Ghosts in film

.  More ghosts in film

.  Ghosts in photography (like, really) sheesh!

.  The Ghost Story

.  Phantasmagoria (again!)

.  Edith Wharton - The Ghost Feeler

.  The Virago Book of Victorian Ghost Stories

.  Symbolist Art

.  Arthur Machen, also here

.  Ghostly Showgirls by gilfling

.  Print of Ghost by shannondzikas

.  The Ghostly Cradle by MarmeeCraft

.  Dancing Ghosts Mobile by collabolabo

.  Untitled Apple Doll Print by thisisblaise



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On that note i will leave you for the night!
Enjoy your bedtime reading:)

take care

xxx

Of Dolls & Dreams..........

..............and Dreams of Dolls.

    Doll: Akiyama Mahoko/image: Eyedia.

...

Dolls delight me. They're forever on my mind.
It's so insanely obvious, i do suppose, that i hardly need to even mention it.
But i wanted to make this post a sort of little dedication to all things dollish. My very favourite things.........................along with the rabbits:)

I have always been drawn towards them, for a variety of reasons, and i am aware that many of you, and countless people the world over have a similar passion for these curious little representations of human beings, or creatures, anomalies, and so on and so on.....

Dolls are such precious, beautiful things, and at the same time, strange. Some folks will tell you that dolls actually scare them, that there is something inherently 'creepy' about their lifeless yet perfect little eyes, hands, and mouths.
Especially the teeth.
I have never quite understood this, but i do accept that it is a common reaction, and that many do not share the same fascination as i do for what is obviously the most frequently used motif in my body of works - and quite as likely, one of the primary forces that drive it !

This image is one of the very first photo manipulations that i ever made using a dolly:

Tragically, it is such a tiny file size that i cannot imagine it making a decent print, but i am secretly fond of it, regardless. I was quite unused to using the techniques that are so like second nature to me nowadays.

As a child i was almost as fascinated by dolls as i am today, but in a wholly different way. I wasn't so much interested in them as playthings or pretend babies; i was more inclined to perceive them as something akin to little 'models' that i could manipulate, dress, invent stories around, naming them, exploring my own world through them...sometimes playful, sometimes not so!

I sometimes wonder if we still have a sort of magical connection to dolls, which might be termed 'primitive' in the sense that they are symbolic of the human figure, the human being, yet not quite human at all. I'm thinking now of certain essays or stories i have read (at some time or another) that make use of the idea of dolls as objects that we somehow imbue with life via imagination, or focus (or love, especially in the case of a child).
This is apparent when you recall certain stories and films that have used dolls in much the same way, particularly ghost stories and horror films, like those about the 'possessed' doll (don't mention chucky to me!) or worse, the ventriloquists dummy *shudder* !!!
See Dead of Night for the quintessential example.

But on the lighter side of the fence, we have examples such as the Tapestries story (mentioned in a previous post) which utilises a similar yet refreshingly wholesome theme. Instead of the doll leading a reign of terror, we have the doll revealing a reign of terror (caused by humans), that will eventually bring revelation, truth and acceptance to the young, female protagonist.

This could go on forever, so i will shut up:)

Doll: Akiyama Mahoko/image: Eyedia.

...

So what is it that intrigues us, that fascinates so many of us about dolls?
Well, my guess is that they allow us to express ourselves, encouraging the joys of imagination, make-believe, wonder. Aside from their obvious craftsmanship and beauty, they are so amazingly full of potential: we put something of ourselves into them, whether we are using them as works of art, sculpting them from scratch, writing about them, customising them, or simply collecting them.
In many ways, you might say that this is very much the same as what a child might do in play; exploring, inventing, acting-out, resolving, refining, and redesigning reality.

Perhaps those of us who love dolls have simply never lost the ability to play - or to explore our demons.

I have always thought this in relation to my art work. It is a continuation of my exploration of myself and the world around me. My toys are my tools and techniques, my flights of imagination are as powerful and convincing as those that engrossed me as a child.

These are some of the wonderful websites and artists that i have been mooching around over the past few days...

I love these with a passion!

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Porcelain, china paint. 20cm tall (doll sculpture) by Shary Boyle.
How delightfully, elegantly twisted! You have to check out her other works for more amazing examples:)

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And the awe inspiring doll sculpture of Rhonda Gushee:

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The marionettes of Scott Radke:

And these. They leave me speechless....Noriko Okamura dolls

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I want each and every one of them to come and live with us at the Artandghosts Circus!
Just imagine how perfect that would be.
But alas, i cannot work out if they are for sale or not. To anyone fluent in the language, please help me!!!!

...

And some more links to dolly delights:

...

.  Mildred and her acorn friend by MarmeeCraft

. Torn and Tattered by garboodles

. Money Dolly Art Doll by TheDevilsWallpaper

. Dollseye

. Mahoko Artdoll

. Elizabeth McGrath

. Strange Dolls

. Dolls of Yore

. Gnarly Dolls

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...

I must go and attend to my work now, so i shall bid you goodnight and pleasant dreams:)

And a huge hug and kiss to my eternally angelic mother, who will most likely be mulling over this post in the morning:))

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.