give me the creeps of painful like


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Lately I’ve been gazing at the relics of past life, and imagined life. Ordinary things like ticket stubs, wristbands, and receipts can take on an almost sacred preciousness when they belong to a day or a night that you cannot bear to leave behind. I keep them with me in my room, surrounding myself in old feelings, playing the music that makes me think old thoughts. I don’t know what or who I am really nostalgic for – mostly I am just restless. I feel like there is some kind of obvious fate inside me, because of who I am, that I am simply not smart enough to comprehend. As if my own nature has decided my future for me, and because I cannot escape my nature, I cannot escape it. The past becomes a safe place to live when you are afraid of yourself in this way.

For the last two months I’ve had a wristband from a rave I went to tucked inside my wallet. While I was there, wearing it, I had no idea what I would do with it – I didn’t think about it. But now, contemplating the journey that that greying, frayed paper bracelet has been on makes my head spin. The man who tied it to my arm had no idea of what it would come to mean to me, or where it would go - likewise the person who made it. It had no innate significance (does anything?). It makes me wonder about all the things I have sent out into the world, everything I have given away, or sold, or lost. What happened to them all? Where did they go? Did they ever mean anything to someone? Did someone who loved me ever keep something I threw away, just because it was mine? I wish that we could know what happens to things after they leave our peripheral vision. Or that we could know its future before we discarded it. If we could, we would see such a perfect, cruel, and beautiful design, I think. It seems natural, and yet still so unfair, that all our lives should be connected by these objects that pass from hand to hand - and that we can hold on to them for as long as we wish, but not to each other.

what’s in your handbag? tag, you’re it!

I’ve been meaning to do one of these posts for ages, so I was thrilled when I saw that I’d been tagged by the lovely, lovely Snow from Garoons to reveal what’s in my handbag, and how much it is all worth. My daily baggage changes often, depending on where I am, whether I’m shooting/blogging, and just how numb my shoulders are. Sometimes I simply haven’t GOT IT IN ME to carry my PC, camera, chargers, memory cards, flash drives and headphones around all day, and I decided it would probably be more aesthetically pleasing if I chose to write this post based on one of those days. Also, I left out the usual pieces of chewed-up gum squished into bits of newspaper. I’m considerate that way.

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Sunglasses, Primark, £1 / keys / Moustache keychain, Paperchase, £2 / lighter and pen / juice / wallet, Topshop, £20 (sans contents, obviously, haha) / Nylon Magazine, £5 / book, £1 from a charity shop / Maybelline Dream Satin Liquid Foundation, £8 / Batiste dry shampoo, £2 / cherry ChapStick, £1 / ancient Blackberry, probably worth about two pence and a smile / ancient IPod, same / earphones, roughly £10. My bag was handed down to me by my mum…and it was vintage even when she got it. So it’s falling apart.

It’s probably too late for me to tag specific people as the competition closes on 1st July, but if anyone is reading this and feels like taking part, then consider yourself tagged, dude. 

you get me closer to god - part 2

Here is the sequel, as promised. I should warn new readers that the content is adult, although, again, nearly all the images are from mainstream fashion magazines. Most of them aren’t meant to be ‘sexy’ – that would be boring. What I really wanted to do was create something that looked as though it was made through my own specific sexual filter. I think everyone has their own way of translating images we see or things we experience in the world, and our own way of sexualising that input – and I wanted to show what mine looks like. There’s a lot of pain behind a couple of them, and I wanted to include that too. Simply to externalize the internal, if I may be so predictable as to reference Ghost World.

I couldn’t really come up with proper titles for these ones, as they aren’t based on personas, only ideas and my own experiences. But for the sake of clarity of reference, let’s call them… Submission, Hussy, Sext, Pin-Up, Femme, Prey, Lolita, Hades and Persephone, Mistress, and Little One (from top to bottom).

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Most of the words in these collages are taken from my own life, with two exceptions. The text on the left hand page of my Prey collage is taken from a story by Angela Carter called The Erl-King, about sexual threat and the primordial fear of the forest. The text on the left page of my Mistress collage is from the song Home by Austra. I got the idea for the butterflies in my Submission page after I was sent a link to some sterling silver butterfly nipple clamps from Coco de Mer…which I know is a strange thing to mention on a blog that mostly deals in nail art and indie music, but still, fascinating, no? And I wouldn’t want to compartmentalise myself. It might sound terribly blasé, but I made some of these collages while watching Frasier - and that’s sort of the spirit in which I’d like them to be taken, I think.

things aren't as pretty on the inside

Sometimes my mind is dark. Sometimes it is twisted. There are parts of my nature that I think I might always have to apologise for to some extent, simply because they are politically incorrect. To me, the line between fear and fantasy is very thin, and sometimes non-existent. The things I am drawn to in literature, art, and music can be quite disturbing to some people, especially those who aren’t as emotionally masochistic as I am. In my real life I am a very extreme person, always pushing things as far as they will go before they snap.  It is hard for me to explain the pleasure I get from going to the edge of my own limits, my own sanity, my own humanity – or in seeing someone else go to the edge of theirs, through a painting or a song or a novel. When artists express something that, I can tell, has come from some raw, primordial part of them, I am always pleased – it doesn’t matter whether I think it is beautiful or not. It simply IS. I enjoy forcing myself to look at what is inside of other people, even if it makes me want to run. It is how I learn about human nature. I want to be that brave.

We all have things in our head that we cannot admit, even to ourselves – but I don’t want that to be true. If I could do one thing with my life, and only one thing, I would want to find a way to take every evil thought I have ever had, and every beautiful thought I have ever had, and throw them together in some hideous, perfect marriage, until they were inseparable, conjoined, merged. And then I would make everyone look. Because then they would understand.

Thank you to everyone who gave their thoughts about my last post. I’m working on a follow-up that will be slightly darker – but only because it will be closer to my core. It will not in any way represent my ideas about sexuality or love in general. There will be no separation between the parts taken from my dreams and the parts taken from my worst nightmares. It is just me, spewing my guts up, for everyone to see. If you don’t want to look, then just don’t. High-fashion, it ain’t.

                                                                                   

you get me closer to god

For a little while now I’ve been working on  a series of scrapbook pages based on different sexual archetypes, or personas in fantasy role-play. It started out as a sort of game between me and the man in my life. At first it never crossed my mind that I might show them on my blog. I made them just for him, to express my own ideas around each persona. I’ve left out the most explicit ones, but some of you might still find them objectionable, and I’m sorry for that. The reason I’ve decided to make them public rather than keep them hidden is because some of these pages are among my all-time favourites – and what would be the point in having a blog full of my second-best work?  The words I used are nearly all taken from books, songs, or poetry that to me, just fit in with each persona. All the images I used are from mainstream fashion magazines. Fashion is a surprisingly sexual industry, sometimes.

The characters I chose to explore are ones that I find artistically, academically, historically or dramatically interesting. From top to bottom, they are titled: Pet, Assistant, Maid, Virgin, Courtesan, Slave, Stripper, Captive, and Doll. I would love to know which ones people like…and which ones they don’t. We are such dirty, fascinating creatures, after all.

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