I can read your dirty mind, like I know, like I know what you want

It has been a long time since I have posted new collages here. The other day I started thinking about it and realised I’d only posted one in the last six months. A lot of stuff has gone by without being immortalised somehow, and that’s not okay with me. The more I think about it the more I realise artists must be, by nature, exhibitionists. Blogging satisfies my exhibitionism, for sure.

In other news, I wrote an article about blondes in cinema for SCREENQUEENS, which you can find here. I’ll be contributing to Pop Culture Puke on the 5th of April as well, so please check that out if you can. I’ll be sharing it on Twitter and all that so keep your eye out! And finally, I’m doing a couple of photoshoots soon with the lovely Charlotte and Katie, and I’ll share those with you as soon as I can. Please do check out their blogs in the mean time. I honestly can’t wait to meet them both and get some amazing shots to show you. I think it’s going to be a very exciting month.

art about bdsmart about bdsm

In The Land Of Gods And Monsters, I Was An Angel, Looking To Get Fucked Hard

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Do you ever surprise yourself sometimes merely by liking something that, according to your definition of yourself, you just shouldn’t like?

I was out shopping with my boyfriend the other day, in the sun. He had come a long way to see me, only for one day, and he wanted to take me out and give me everything I wanted. I earn very little compared to him, and he is an incredibly strange man, in that he enjoys spending money on me so much it borders on the ridiculous. I watch female sales assistants as he carries pairs of shoes and arms full of clothes to the check out, and their response to his long-suffering-boyfriend banter is always the same. He likes to joke (even though everyone present knows this is not the case, and everyone knows everyone else knows as well) that I am a high-maintenance girlfriend. That I have him wrapped around my little finger. He makes some light-hearted remark, grinning from ear to ear, about how I’ll have cleaned him out completely by the end of the day. The sales assistant laughs good-naturedly, and says something along the lines of how I’ve landed on my feet with this guy. She looks at me in my jeans and Converse, smiling adoringly at him from behind my DIY fringe, and she laughs because she knows it is safe to laugh; that I am not that girl at all.

Anyway, while we were shopping I spotted a pair of shoes that you can see above. I don’t think I’ve so much as tried on a pair of pink shoes since I was about nine, and yet here I was, clapping my hands as I shimmied the most impractical, Barbie-esque, super-girly, plastic-fantastic shoes in the whole shop onto my size 5’s. I didn’t know whether I liked them ironically in a sort of young-feminist-movement-re-appropriates-a-gender-stereotype kind of way - like kawaii, Hello Kitty and the whole Cher Horowitz aesthetic have been reclaimed - OR whether I just straight-up liked them because they were pink and made me look like Barbie. Is there even a difference?

Part of me would like to think they are a sartorial choice. That I am referencing Courtney Love or early days Buffy The Vampire Slayer, before she found out she was the Chosen One. But I can’t say I’m certain.

Day Three In London: Camden Lock

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The title of this post is a tiny bit misleading, because in actual fact, the first thing we did on our last day in London was go to Oxford Circus to see the David Lynch exhibition at The Photographer’s Gallery. I had been so excited to see it, after being given the book of his Factory Photographs by my brother some weeks ago, that when we walked into the space, and I heard the accompanying sound composition that Lynch made to go with the photos, I was fan-girling so hard my boyfriend had to hold me. I spent about two hours in that room, peering at everything open-mouthed. If you are in London, or if you like Twin Peaks, David Lynch, or photography in general, then do go and see it before it ends. I left feeling inspired in every possible way.
After that we went to Camden, where I took my kinky boyfriend in Cyberdog, to see the clothes, and the dancers, and the dungeon, and to hear the music. I tend to go in Cyberdog every time I go to London, just because it feels like my spiritual home. It’s a place you can buy a party dress, some cool music, a vibrator and a latex gas mask all in one trip, so I fit right in. On our way out my beloved turned to me and said ‘pick something you want’. Me being me, I got all flustered and didn’t know what to choose; until I found a little red suede and black leather collar, with a hoop at the front for a leash to be attached. It can be locked, but mostly I wear it simply buckled, like a necklace. Its soft red suede hugs my throat and I feel close to him, no matter where I am. I sleep in it when I am not with him, and it reminds me of his fingers, wrapped around my breath. When I am out in the world alone, and panicking, I pull it gently in the direction I want to go, and it calms me. I don’t care who sees it.