Posts from the BRIGHTON Category

Here are some phone photos to tell you all what I’ve been upto. I’m not bothering much with instagram. It isn’t worth it for me.

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.this is hilarious. I refuse to allow this country to compensate me without telling the truth, though. I won’t accept compensation and shut up money from the lottery. By the way WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THE LOTTERY?

The Lottery” is a short story written by Shirley Jackson, first published in the June 26, 1948 issue of The New Yorker.[1] It has been described as “one of the most famous short stories in the history of American literature“.[2]

The story describes a fictional small town in contemporary America which observes an annual rite known as “the lottery”. The purpose of the lottery is to choose a human sacrificial victim to be stoned to death to ensure the community’s continued well being.”

I don’t know much either, but I heard about the story – referenced in an episode of the Simpsons. I don’t want to read the book because I’m lazy but also because I’ve lived enough pain to not want to project my life onto a story like that.

.I found a local abandoned pub, there was a bottle of alcohol on the table and my inner teenager picked it up – it had some alcohol left in it. I drank it and I danced around by myself.

.I found a bag on a table outside the pub and it had all these cute props in. The faux (honestly – not the consistency of blood at all – a cute sugar syrup thing) blood packs were SO MILITARY CHIC. I didn’t take them, although I’d of liked to for a photoshoot I’ve been planning. It’d of been stealing. (I want to make ‘TEMPLAR LOLITAS” a thing)

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I’m into this look. It’s anime. The crotch stuff.

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I paid a woman – who has a shop, where she sells ‘hand made clothes’ – I saw the quality of ‘her work’ – and she really thought it was okay to do this shit to my jacket. Seventy pounds for this shit. It’s surgical stitches for me, from now on, for all of my stuff. Fuck you. I didn’t say how pissed off I was before – I was pissed off. Its inexcusable. I keep being robbed by people in Brighton. Independent shop keepers, bankers. “do you have any idea what I’ve done for this country” I think at the back of my head.

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.you can’t see it here, but I have TREMENDOUSLY hairy legs. I went to the beach and took off my stuff and walked through the sea recently. I’m not one of those tacky hippies that doesn’t shave or remove their body hair, I just have no reason to remove it right now. I’m concerned that if I remove my body hair it will indicate that I’m doing it because I’m attracted to someone and that’s disturbing because when I’m trying to attract someone, sometimes other people think I am trying to get them instead or something (my attractions are specific and personal and if you don’t have the guts to hang out with me – or you dont want to hang out with me cos I have ‘hairy legs’ or I am wearing an outfit you don’t like – remember it for the rest of your life)

.i need waterproof earphones. NEED. and goggles.


I wish I could copy and paste the notes I just made on my phone, but my BT internet is so shitty that my phone can’t connect to it. I have some spiders residing on my balcony that I am VERY attached to. I’ve been meditating with them about becoming huge. (One sec, I uploaded:)

Like:

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I meditated with Jane of Seth Speaks recently – I swear upon my life, my bed was shaking. I was still and my bed was shaking. I asked to learn to levitate. I didn’t levitate. But yeah – my bed was shaking.

It’s been a few days since I last wrote to myself so here I am, self. Writing to you, self. In the meditation I was asked by Jane not to do any art for two weeks – so I’m uploading some art from weeks past that I thought I’d uploaded but apparently hadn’t.

This is a photograph of a shelf sitting on the ledge of my window sill, I’ve put some plants in it.

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Awhile ago I bought some slate coasters from Amazon – like a really long time ago now. I wrapped one of the coasters in a bathroom mat (they have sticky undersides – the good ones) and smashed it with a hammer. Then I started applying the bits like a mosaic to this shelf. I BUILT THIS SHELF! With help. A lot of help. But I built this shelf. (Actually a guy called Adam who helped my mother do her house up let me use some left over wood and let me borrow his screw driver.)

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I am excited about how this might look when it’s finished. Years ago I visited a woman’s house in Paraguay and she had a whole wall made of stones. That’s never left my mind.

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This is a photograph of my little kitchenette. That is the worst hoover anyone has ever used in their life, amongst the top ten worst hoovers. It is a mostly ornamental and decorative hoover, that adds colour to my life.

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This is a tea thingy. You’re meant to put tea in it. I took some mint from one of my tescos plants (THEY ARE TWO POUNDS!!) Oh, no, I just checked. TESCOS SELL MINT PLANTS FOR ONE POUND.

They are definitely indoor plants, these potted mints. I’ve tried keeping them outside and it is too hot for them. That is: I’ve noticed that when I put my plant friends outside, they almost die – even the ones the florists say are “meant to be placed outdoors”. What happens is – they almost die – and then they acclimate.

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So this is a tea strainer with some mint that I handpicked and put in hotwater with honey. No matter how much fun it is to be a person that does that – it’s not my thing. I am a water person. I drink water and elderflower cordial. Sometimes. And hot chocolate. I’m not a tea person, I will never ever be a tea person. I like coffee with two spoonfuls of butter. Try it. (I don’t drink it often, but it actually tastes much better than you’d think.)

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I know they say “don’t mix meats” but if you have a non-salty meat like this prosciutto and a salty chicken, and some potato, and some lemon drenched salad – you’ll be surprised at how much you don’t care about what “they say”.

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The NHS told a relative of mine that a portion is technically this much food. So If you eat a portion of pasta – this is the correct amount. This is what we need to be healthy, this much. If you think I am a person who can live on portions like this you are on crack. But my plate was pretty this day. I’ve not been cooking much, I’m having a lot of sensitivity to the sun here – Brighton is having a fantastic summer – but with a history of migraines and some mild vampirism I can honestly say that both myself and a relative of mine that I “vampired” in a “psychosis” (lets pretend, for the lols, that that is wat that was) can’t do ‘sunlight’. The doctors have told her she has lupus and she will believe anything she’s told by anyone that isn’t me, the only person who has ever told her the truth – in her entire life.

This is my hand. I was concerned (this is something that happens when you are abused by the NHS btw, as I was.) that people would think I had self harmed. I um. I do not self harm at all. And this would be a bitch of a place to self harm.

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If I had the time and date settings on my camera and you saw how fast I healed you’d be as weirded out as I was but I’m so lazy about documenting stuff like that. One day I’ll do it for the theatre and film it. When I’m getting paid for my documentary habits.

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I recently dressed up like this to check if (a very, very, very large sum of) money had been put into my bank account, as compensation from the United Kingdom for their human rights abuses against me. And my family. For three generations. I can’t tell you how many of my family’s friends (not mine, I don’t do friends – my FAMILY’S friends) are waiting for an apology. The money hasn’t been deposited – yet. Weird.

I was so sensitive to the heat from the sun I walked into the supermarket and projectile vomited on the day I made this video.

I also went to a poorly and disrespectfully kept World War Two Monument. An obnoxious woman convincing herself of being a patriot shouted “THATS A WAR MEMORIAL”. The water was so filthy – I shit you not – that my toenail went green, and started coming off – I had to rip it off.

We have birds that swim in that water. They’re british, if that makes a difference to yobs like that woman – ruining what is technically a really important moment for anyone that knows anything about this country’s military history. (I know more about this country’s military history than most British people – to the point that I remain until this day affected by a single stanza that I heard when I visited Berlin on a school trip.)

BLIND MEN, LOOK UP.

 

It was filthy. I waded around in it trying to be a sexy pin up for one of our boyz. It was a really proud moment. I’ll explain: A gentleman was, I think, wearing something to indicate he had fought in that war – he was sitting in a wheelchair by that memorial.

I asked if he’d film me in the water and he stood up off that wheelchair and filmed me.  He might’ve been an actor – people do orchestrate strange things like that – but I hope with all of my heart that he wasn’t.

War pinups – I promise – are my thing. I keep trying to upload the video but it’s a struggle to do so. Weird.

It’s actually a deeply important video but maybe I’ll save the footage for something special. Right now – Brighton – your war memorial is fucking gross.

.I had a poppy flower. If you knew about the Second World War, you’d know that poppies littered the graves of British, Polish and German men alike. Some of our boyz were buried over there. I remember because we went around looking for the graves of our teachers relatives. We found some.

 

Some of the soldiers that fought in WW2 died what would’ve been referred to as ‘dishonourable deaths’ – as in they either ran off to be called “deserters”, killed themselves, or hurt themselves so much that they couldn’t fight anymore. They were considered cowards. The human mind is very easily traumatised and a lot of those boys were aged around sixteen to eighteen. There were boys who lied about their ages so that they could go to war – often compelled by the idea of winning the affections of a woman.

This film came out back when I was doing the nude girl internet thing (I’ll bring it back, read below) and it is one of my favourite films. I encourage you to watch.

.If you have ever had PTSD – you’d know that you-don’t-know-you-have-it until you DON’T have it anymore. Like some people might’ve reacted to that trauma with ‘shellshock’, and run screaming onto battle fields – but there’d of been some people who went completely numb and blank and their responses to anything – absolutely fucking destroyed. They become like zombies.

“You” do not know how to treat PTSD unless you have HAD PTSD. You can’t live with people who have PTSD. They’re monsters. I’d know.

Anyone that tries to tell you that they can ‘help’ ‘treat’ your PTSD without having had it is full of shit.
That means you cannot – CANNOT – just diagnose someone with PTSD. You don’t know if a person has PTSD or not until they do not have it anymore. Thats it.

This is so poorly authored, an almost offensive attempt at explaining PTSD – that it’s perhaps offensive to include it in a post that offers any mention of WW2 and the people who were robbed of validation that their service and selflessness to what they believed was a good cause to humanity. (I struggle to believe the British cared about the holocaust. I don’t really know why they bothered getting involved, but they did. I think actually that any remaining service men must be pretty fucking furious, actually.)

There were also many horse memorials ❤ you don’t often consider how many animals have died in service.

I have investigated enough: Hitler is my comrade, and an innocent – whose motivation was to defend his country against the terrifying reparations we expected them to pay, that left them poor and defenceless. Mein Kampf was edited by his brothers.

I am perhaps the only person, in history, who has been lied about more than he.

The World watched the holocaust and the Jews paid to have their home back. If you challenge this judgement you will embarrass yourself doing so. I paid for what I learned to find the truth.

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T IS FOR TEMPLAR

they worship women

and the ownership of a vagina, does not a woman make


 

If you enjoy a nude of me, if you enjoy a thing I’ve written – that is really nice.

It’s still not “for you”

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I’m not ‘secretly’ into you – if I am into you – I promise you – I’ll let you know. (And the second I do so, millions of people will suddenly confess interest in you – and you will prefer them to me. I’m not your type.)

I don’t care how much you think you look like Alfie Deyes/Ash Stymest/Davey Havok or this guy – YOU ARE NOT THEM

(ALL OF WHICH ARE AMERICAN DREAMS. #CELEBCRUSHES. THINGS TO FANCY TO PASS THE TIME.)

I’m into PERSONALITIES. This is a portrait of a monk who was burned alive.

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If I consider myself a babysitter of yours, or ever have – I probably don’t – but if I ever have – please don’t think I’m sexually interested in you. I’m not. But when you grow up I will set you up with unimaginably hot babes. Babes that are much hotter than me, that you can get revenge on me with. For example: as a teenager I watched “the pursuit of happyness” with an ex boyfriend who is – definitely – a sociopath when he’s in a bad mood. If Jaden Smith EVER expressed any kind of interest in me, I’d die in a not-nice way. I’d be destroyed by that. If I could choose a girlfriend for him it’d be Frances Bean. Thats it.

If you think I should be into you – don’t stalk me, write to me. I am SO easy to get in touch with. If you are unable to get in touch, uh, I have an instagram. Leave a comment or something. Leave a billion. Thats what I’d do if I wanted to make sure someone knew I wanted their attention.

Unless you know I’m not interested. Do not make me create a list of men I wouldn’t accept money to date/hang out with. Please.


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I live in agony of every imaginable kind. You’re welcome.

If I had written this as a letter to myself I’d put ‘p.t.o’ (pronounced puh-toe)

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.I fucking laughed
stop forcing women into sexual slavery, domestic slavery etc – if a woman kills her kids they’re either not hers or she’s being mind controlled. Or it’s fake news. I don’t care. If I had kids I’d find the cutest, most kawaii magnet and attach this to my fridge and call my kids in and ask them to read it and say “YOU HAVE BEEN DULY WARNED.”

and if they were really my kids they’d get to the bit of “got in the way of her life, which included offering to sell sex” and they’d be like THATS EXACTLY HOW WE FEEL ABOUT YOU KARINA. THATS EXACTLY HOW WE FEEL ABOUT YOU. (I’d be like “do what you want, but when you see a kid walking into Perfect Fried Chicken, that looks exactly like you, wearing shoes like this – UNIRONICALLY –

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YOU’LL LEARN THAT YOU CARRY UNTOLD CAPACITIES FOR PAIN. Which would’ve been what I was protecting YOU from. (you could’ve paid a bit more actually)

(I have been taking adult man’s sized shits since I was at least two.) (my family are so clevers that they didn’t think I might have a VERY SERIOUS disability – well I spoke to a pharmacist who very kindly said that shitting once every two to three weeks is ABNORMAL.) (Fortunately that disability means I can do a lot of awesome stuff and if I like you, you can do it when we hang out.)

.IF I HAVE EVER BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH YOU – IF I HAVE EVER HAD PHYSICAL SEX WITH YOU – I’M NOT INTERESTED. NOT EVEN FOR MONEY. UNLESS ITS MONEY YOU ALREADY OWE ME. GET IN TOUCH AND ILL SEND MY BANK DETAILS.

.for example: luke’s dad stole a lighter from me – it was worth about five grand. he told me it was “fake”. (He got my original one valued and returned a fake.) fuck kent

.There was this moment in my flat, in a University town – where I’d found some strange enlightenment – and also learned I was technically royalty to Israel. Luke walked in and was like “what are you doing?” – I was painting the history of the world on some ikea thingy. I said “I’m ROYALTY LUKE” – you’d of had a “breakdown” of sorts upon that realisation at the same time as having recently had a terrifying miscarriage. He was like “so?”

YOU DON’T KNOW ME AT ALL LUKE DO YOU. Also I’m into bald guys but I’m not into you. I’d rather fuck a guy that wears shoes like this

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photo credit: Eyal (do you really want credit for this one?)

not really though, ew – you’re both ew

this is a good example of what my shadow self is like. thats why i am “single” unless the Angel Lucifer, HH or Zamasu decide to show up

OR trunx, or Levi

I was always this way which is probably why no one bothered telling me

I have had several bowls of coco pops today. I was actually really dwelling on how I am now one of those people that consumes cereals more than once a day. I’m a poor sim. (Nono, this is the second or third day I’ve been eating cereals. I’m in it for the chocolate milk. My budget doesn’t permit chocolate milk. My guilt function makes it really difficult to buy things that I need to recycle because I hate to wash the packaging so I leave it sitting in the sink and end up binning it anyway.)

My Tescos shop is coming in on Tuesday, I think. I’ll have to snoop around for a pound or two for some extra milk.

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I am waiting for paint and glue to dry. My artists studio? um flat? has gotten twenty times cuter. I am pretending to be riche with a £12 William Morris-ish wallpaper I bought from Wilkos by pasting it into the cupboard. It has changed the vibe of my flat from at least one angle.

I bought that trunk for about ten pounds and I’ve been doing little things to it. The lady in the shop said it was from the Victorian Era (she might’ve said inspired by or something to that effect) but I don’t know that they had turquoise dyes back then. It’s unimportant because I love it.

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Here is me donning some shorts I dyed purple when I was living at Bernie’s.

.the opening for samurai champloo is cool. also i stole the clouds. everyone has an idea or perception of how to simplify clouds and i really like this one. here is the credit.

In the event the video is removed & you’re too lazily-natured a reader to find it.

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.i’ve paused samurai champloo for morrissey. im nursing a nostalgic heart okay, i’m still menstruating and everything

.I’m going to spend a couple of hours on this pinterest archive

 

I HAVE TWO THINGS TO LOOK FORWARD TO

FIRSTLY

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An email alerted me to the fact that there is a new season of Aggretsuko. She likes Cradle of Filth and does a holding-in-pee-dance. I also like Cradle of Filth and do a holding-in-pee-dance.

SECONDLY

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An Etsy seller who deserves a polite link has apparently dispatched my miniature butcher’s cuts of prime meats. #modestylpriced

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I’m gonna get vaguely cute & then I’m visiting Laine tomorrow to collect some magical custom orders.


If you need to laugh-smile and also do the most soul crippling kind of posi thinking manifestation

(and you should, because it is healthy. you don’t necessarily get what you are wanting at the very front of your mind. The stuff you wanted growing up comes first that it is easier for you to accept into your life.) (I have improved vastly at art)

try playing this

(if you press play and then hover over the video and press cntrl + click and then ‘loop’, the video will auto replay.)

at the same time as this

About two years ago I dressed up as a poor man’s version of little red riding hood for a Halloween party in Denmark. I write about it ad nauseum, that’s what growing up has been for me. Adulthood, refuse it and all of it’s a-decent-party-once-every-ten-years-and-theres-no-well-lit-event-photography-that-can-suggest-to-the-contrary connotations.

Months after that party I had moved into a room in a couple’s apartment in Denmark and I taught myself the very basics of after effects (an animation software) and I made a short animation of Red Riding Hood strolling through the woods. I often try to forget a memory I have of rehearsing the laugh for the end of the animation. I was skipping down some apartment stairs in an affluent area trying to practice an “evil” child’s laugh. I bumped into a neighbour who made eye contact with me. iunno. I think it is amazing to exist in a time when that software is available and the information is available for people to learn it. (I revisit the story a lot but a lot was going on, even though it wasn’t.)

In sixth form I did an A-level that discussed fairytales and those repetitive archetypes which are the fabric of the media that we engage with daily. Every story we read or film we watch has a character who is living a vibrant and interesting life of their own and their psyche is made up of layers of not just one of those nursery-school fairytales but many of them. I took the work into as many subjects as I could and that was really how I tried to develop what I think was Snow White. (I decided she had an eating disorder and that her step mother was feeding her apples laced with laxatives). I explored a lot of mental states as a teenager. It’s how people build character, the shit they allow themselves to go through as teenagers.

As I write this, I am watching this. #WLVS

But to research for that collection of A level work I had to read the Brothers Grimms version – which was grotesque, but it was important to do so because it was the origins of that particular fairy tale. The version I was studying was a short story in a novella by  Angela Carter called the Bloody Chamber. Her writing style is so distinctive that you cannot pretend not to have read it. In her version of Red Riding Hood she empowers the female protagonist without trying to negate from the underlying thematics of the original narrative.

This is my favourite version of the Three Little Pigs. Watch it, it takes minutes. You might enjoy the series.

The stills of note, though:

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When you fancy yourself some kind of imaginative or creative you have a compulsion somehow to learn how people work. How does a woman become the kind of person that would ever need to walk around with a pistol? How did she learn to walk through the woods in high heels? Who taught her how to skin wolves? Why do I like her? Why did my child self like her this much?

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If it’s not clear from this post I’ve probably been subconsciously working towards making my own version of Roald Dahl’s Three Little Pigs, probably for my spiritual kids channel thing. I performed a puppet show for myself using a hairclip for the wolf’s dialogue.  I am confident that the performance could translate to something grand.

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The actor in me (every single one of my interests or talents encourages a person to compartmentalise their identity) would repeat something she recently read about Sr. Antony Hopkins in which he said that he’d spent his life thinking about the role of King Lear, which he played at the end of last year. He was quoted as saying that it took him years simply to comprehend how he could play that role. I’m saving watching the film for the moment in time when I’m in the right company. Do you know that I’ve seen a few Shakespeares – Twelfth Night (I was meant to play the slutty barmaid and I made up every excuse in the book to drop out and regret nothing.), A Midsummer’s Night Dream, Romeo and Juliet, performed and on every occasion I left with an impression that neither PTSD nor years spend stoned could erase from my memory. There’s something about every single one of those performances that I can recall.

I have Shakespeare script on my forearm and I could discuss the plays and poems that I like – at length – but I’ve not “seen all of his work” nor have I read all of his scripts. (I know that people don’t think he actually wrote the scripts and that the performances were mostly improvised at the time) but I’m happy for that to be something I do over many years. I think that to understand anything, it takes a very long time. To understand a character or really relate to their story, especially a deus ex machina, it really takes years. Probably because the Universe throws all of these instances at you whereby you have to learn how a person would really respond to that situation.

I know that when you watch a Shakespeare a few too many times, one of the characters becomes you. It’s sort of a literary curse.

Here is the very-beginnings of an Al Pacino-esque pig bag that I designed this week. I ordered some leather offcuts off etsy and they were delicate enough that I could poke some pins through them.

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I liked the idea of 1. not cutting, because cutting leather is a drag and 2. making something with a shape I already had, kind of like origami artists do and 3. if I had the cash I’d buy this Loewe bag and that probably serves as an artist reference too.

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I’ve added this bag to my I LOVE LIST. Which has not been a thing for a long time.

As if you could, consider the idea of me recreating Red’s outfit as imagined by Quentin Blake. Here’s a hood I designed/co-created. (If you have favourite artists you’re not designing anything on your own. I initially had written ‘that I designed’ but that’s not entirely honest. I was thinking of myself while I designed it because there are a lot of cuts that I can wear that a lot of people can’t.)

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I would wear it sensibly for kids-intended TV. I would wear it like this to Torture Garden. (Which I’d then write about.) Oh, by the way my tumblr URL has changed to @KnightsTemplar13. I know Tumblr got weird, I think the original programmers must’ve sold it because it got that weird, but if you do you – at least you aren’t contributing to the weird.

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The tattoo is about falling in love too soon. It is a real thing that made my life difficult years ago. It doesn’t make my life as difficult anymore. Years ago I’d of been so upset if you brought up this band, in relations to this tattoo, but actually it’s preferred to the alternatives. I’ll grow up again.

 

when I think about it, I really enjoy the correlations in the narratives between myself and the Little Red Riding Hood that appears – the shallow ones I mean. I must’ve at some point absorbed this into my subconscious as a vision for what I could be when I grew up.

The voice actor playing the female roles in this animated series that I watched a lot is a very renowned British thespian called Prunella Scales. I like her most as Sybil in Fawlty Towers. As a child I learned to be able to recognise people by voice and it became somewhat of a party trick later when I dated a film-buff (who surpassed me in his dedication) and I’d be able to tell him which of his favourite actors were my favourite voice actors, in obscure cartoons that he’d never of been that interested in watching if it hadn’t of been for me.

 

and the correlations I’d of preferred. As a film person (I am a film person – an age of social media exchanges via video? I’d of thought it was my time. My imagination is meditative journeys of the human figure engaging with stories in time to music, it’s fast forwards and rewinds from different angles, with different colour temperatures – the details)

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Here is me pretending to be Vega.

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I know that we’re having this moment socio/culturally where we don’t read lengthy pieces of text on the internet. I’m condensing as much as I can but really to adopt an Orwell-ism for a moment “For a time when this is interesting”

I’ve had a productive day and the laxative I took yesterday hasn’t worked. Apparently you’re supposed to take another but if you have this condition in the long term it’s a bad idea. Your body starts to rely on the laxatives. If you take a laxative just before you manage to go and your stomach is empty – then you get serious cramps. Actually if you’ve ever wanted to know what period cramps feel like, it’s like that.

The level of friendship between my audienceship (I was delighted to learn that a viewer read my blog yesterday) and myself has sort of evolved into an exchange about my bowel movements.

We’re in the over-familiar stage of relationship territory. We’re basically related now. Nono, yes.

I say this laughingly but actually toilet jokes and that humour in general grosses me out. I have momentum about speaking about this while it’s bothering me, while I try to sort it out again and I know that there are other people who suffer this that don’t have the guts that I do, to discuss it. Some people are triggered by toilet talk and it isn’t because they demand a super-human-feminine-performance from other human beings. It’s cos it’s a very real form of suffering.

You could be having the time of your life but this is the most like, silent (stop) form of bio-torture you can imagine.

I will stop writing about it because I want to manifest health but my intention really is that other people acknowledge that it’s technically a disability if you shit less frequently than a day or two apart.

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This is a thing I did today, to be productive, for my future self. If you want something to do, find a site that lets you do a thing you like to do and be your most unboring self on it. my most unboring self warns you that it is a mess and it doesn’t meet her standards of graphic design at all but my heart is warmed by my own note to myself so I’m inclined to share. I mean um. Do your future self a favour today. It could be organising a stocking/hosiery drawer. Not that millennials have those. (No, I don’t have one of those. I would like to.)

Bigcartel is one of those customisable sites that let people sell things. I wanted to make a depop account but apparently the entire universe wouldn’t let me do that, so I mosied on over to Bigcartel who are apparently doing a lowkey beta test thing, so you can sign up for a shop for FREE. I actually think that Bigcartel is quite a chic little site for selling things on. This is a designer I like who uses Bigcartel to sell clothes I have dreamt of buying for years and years and years of my life. If you are a weeb, you will like her clothes. 

She is famous because the oui/non tshirts were her thing. This is the director Sofia Coppola in one of those tshirts. Sofia C. directed a lot of films that a lot of trendy hipsters like and that a lot of under twenty-fives don’t know about. My favourite of her films are Marie Antoinette and the Virgin Suicides.

Sofia Coppola is in no small part responsible for Instagram Pastel Goths.

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In the Fashion World it is a big deal if you start or bring in a trend. Eeeven if the trend is leggings or wedges or ballet buns.

I was thinking of this L’ecole Des Femmes dress

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(which I bought after thinking about it for a million yearws) when I bought…

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Didyoureadthispostabout

The most beautiful bag in the World?

I am actually rarely taken by handbags. This handbag is my favourite ever.

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This beginning of a collection of works.. I’m not prepared for the clay to expand or to decrease with the drying process. Frankly. These are some small pieces that Esther and Abraham Hicks would describe as co-creations. That is – and these photos limit the view – pieces that combine elements of lots of artists and designers and writers and film makers that I’ve had in my visual playground since forever.

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These look like very simple pieces that simply floated out of my imagination but actually they took time to think of, and I do think I was inspired by non-physical and meditation. And lots of album art, actually. Wait. That doesn’t begin to list my influences. I have packed a lot of art books into a suitcase for an old school but I’ve kept some that I can’t let go of yet. One is an Alphonse Mucha book that I bought when I was doing my GCSEs.

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This is a piece of album art by a band called Tool. They are a very big deal in the instagram neu hippie wave and I imagine they’d resent that. Or secretly not resent it.

I think I was also inspired by this animatronic? puppet? in Guillermo Del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth

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None of the above clay-forms that-I’m-unsure-will-be-successful were intentional or conscious at all, apart from the shapes I used to create the eye. Shapes formed in the clay and I went with them.

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The format of the eye is heavily inspired by catholic iconography, which I’ve been obsessed with since forever – but also I’ve been trying to illustrate eyes using ~ unusual expressive angles. I think also I might’ve been influenced by a tattoo artist I lurked online – who was definitely influenced by me and so I think we can both consider it personal that I choose not to link his work. He built little tattoo machines. I once liked lots of his instagrams at once, in a time when people still connected it to their notifications, knowing he’d notice. He noticed. And actually it is significant in the use of lines. I used to draw like this a lot as a teenager that spent her weekends drinking alcohol by a bridge amongst lots of shops – the influence that a lot of tattoo artists must have had on my work. I think also that some of the ink on the surface of my tattoo on my thigh (I can’t remember this artists name) has started to bleed a bit. I don’t like it but also I do, it makes my tattoo look like he’s crying and his makeup is all mansony and smudgey. I want to make lots more versions of the eye using plaster of paris, as in this tutorial

The texture of the bag was also inspired by the Sorting Hat

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I don’t know that this is the kind of clay that you can make small-scale work with.

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The image above is Red Riding Hood as a piggy as a response to the Roald Dahl poem above. She’s on the phone to the third piggy, waiting for her hair to dry.

 

This (below) is a page in my sketchbook about how I understand ‘the game’. Some people will take it very literally and there’s little to take literally aside of “I try to exude the same person outside as I do inside”

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By accident this clay-bunny (below) happened. Actually no, it was initially a piece of scrap clay that I found a form I liked in, that I thought could be a chihuahua that sort of resembled Tintin. Initially this bunny was an attempt at Tintin’s silhouette. Then I found that an ear I’d made could be a bunny ear. Then I added cupcake icing, because in a few meditations I kept being encouraged to think in cake.

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was inspired by Beatrix Potter (my love of miniatures began with Sylvanian Families and the doll house Hunca Munca scene)

this Roald Dahl

At the end, Red Riding Hood exeunts carrying a pig skin carrycase which is what I made playing with clay earlier. I worry for the tail.

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(The eyelashes were a purchase I made a year and a half ago, at the recommendation of Esther and Abraham H-T, theres a youtube video somewhere in which she describes the experience of happiness from having a fresh pair of faux eyelashes to wear every day. I extracted them from their glue fastened bits and poked them into what will become an eye.)

Fafi: a Parisian Graffiti artist

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Miss Van, also a French artist

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and the fifth character along’s everything

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I imagine her character was somewhat inspired by this

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This page from my Brighton Sketch Diary

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As far as sublimation goes, if psychotherapy is your language: [“you can milk anything with nipples” – A disturbing quote from a dinner table scene in the film Meet the Parents inspired this]

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In Denmark there was a metal cast gold bag that had been sculptured after a paper bag in the window of the art gallery I lived beside and I think it gave me a better appreciation for sculptures made of every day objects. I first saw a porcelain milk jug in the Tate Modern, I think, souvenir shop. It would’ve been about four years now. I spoke with the local gallery owner here who told me that some items are considered to be public domain. This was something I considered at Uni – I briefly mentioned that I was interested in the very simplest shapes that can be used to create a visual language form of lines/circles etc.

[Also: *grumble grumble* inability to trust entirely *grumble* that something I’m eating or drinking *death glare* hasn’t been laced with some kind of body fluid or sleep inducing drug.]

My work was also inspired by a piece I keep showing off on my blog. It is a ceramic hand emerging from ruffles by Seiko Kato.

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Good luck to anyone showing work at Brighton Artist Open House. An artist I admire called Seiko Kato is selling art work, a book, traditional vintage kimono and all sorts of one of a kind items and art pieces that are affordable, but are so precious and carefully made that I think they’re an investment even if they’re marketed humbly.