I can have my cake and eat it...

But besides the point in a more serious manner this is a massive thank you to Alex who puts up with all my mess and confusion and madness. Who takes me and loves me for what I am whatever that might be and who is the most amazing person I know.
Thank you.
Sorry
xxxxx

la jetee

shadow puppets

control

someone please help i am a prisoner

Edie

I have been writing this blog for over a year and I still haven't been able to bring myself to post about Edie Sedgwick. I think it is because I would struggle to emphasise quite what this girl means to me or how much she means to me and why. Anyway here she is `:

Watching these videos completely overwhelms me with emotion. I cannot even watch all of the screen test. I think in the last year or so I have forgotten what my soul is. I have only moved slightly away, so tiny that I didn't realise, but I haven't been me.

formspring.me

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/ElizabethFlynn

The Cock of Damien Hirst

The tale of Bluey the bitter bicycle.

Once upon a time there was a bicycle named Bluey.  Bluey was a mountain bike and loved to be ridden. He loved being pedalled through forests and along rivers, over mountains and through parks. He loved showing off his 80s sports stripes and feeling the wind in his hair. Everything was happy.
The years passed and Bluey spent his time being well looked after and riding with a whole family of bikes. They would go on exciting  trips together and afterwards return to a nice warm garage.
   Gradually over the years though his family grew up and grew apart and he was left for longer and longer spans of time in the warm but lonely garage.
Bluey thought he was forgotten. He began to hate his owners. How could they desert him like this?
This hatred grew into a deep held grudge and he vowed if he was ever needed again he would make his owners life hell..  show who was in control.
The years passed....
and the years passed...
And then one day sunlight. Bright sunlight and what was that... The touch of someone oiling him up and rubbing down his brakes. He couldn't help but feel a bit of excitememt. Oh ... maybe, he thought, it hadn't been his owners fault, maybe it hadn't been that long, maybe he could just forget it and enjoy the world around him once more. But, to no avail!
He found himself in a dark, grey, smelly city with road upon road, car upon car and building after building. He hated it. There were no special trips or fun journeys. The same old road/car/road/car... what was worse was there was no safe place for him to rest. He had to endure the horrible grey outdoors all day and all night. The snow, the wind, the cold , the rain, the dirt. Bluey hated life he wanted it to end. He wanted to make his owners life hard. He didn't want to help her... why should he?
He began advertising himself as a good target hoping to be taken to a new home and then one day it worked. Someone new came along and took him away. He was filled with hope but his life was then even harder. He was taken to a dump and thrown away. Bluey died. This was not the end.
  You see Bluey had a twin and they shared one heart. Blueys twin was soon sent to replace Bluey 1 and      the torment continued.
  The hate was even stronger. Again Bluey advertised himself for being taken but this time only a wheel was set free. The next time someone tried to rescue him they didn't succeed and he ended up all twisted and broken. Oh. This was even worse. It seemed all people were horrible.
  What Bluey didn't know was his owner loved him; Each time something happened she got him fixed and mended .... she couldn't help that she couldn't give him the life he wanted.
  Bluey still hated her. He came up with a new plan. One day he was parked on Oxford Street and suddenly a thought came to him. He liked the bright lights and the buzz... maybe he could stay here. When his owner came to collect him he bit off her key in his lock and she couldn't take him home. "yay" he squeaked ... what could she do now? But night fell and the next night and the next night and he started to realise he was still outside in the cold but he was getting stiff. Oh. If only it could end? But there she was... with a giant pair of cutters and he was free and his life continued.
 Bluey got more depressed and more rusty.
More desperate.
One day he couldn't take it anymore and decided to explode. His tyres blew up and he couldn't be cycled. But... his owner loved him. She carried him home. She felt sorry for him not angry. She realised how much she needed him and she loved him. She took him to the friendly shop and asked for them to give him special treatment. Clean him and polish him. Oil him and rub him down. Give him new tyres and take off the horrible mud guards. Make him in to a road bike. Then maybe he would be happy :).
    THE END

sick

Richey Edwards and why (whatever the reason) this picture is disgusting...

A desperate act like this, however real, is made for the public; to shock and to cause distress, to gain attention and contrive the poor little me image. I am not saying self harm isn't real or that Richey Edwards didn't have a very real problem. A mentally stable person wouldn't do this, let alone do this for the public to see. I am all to aware of self harm. As an eleven  year old in an eating disorder clinic I was thrown into a distressing world where desperate people would slit there hands, necks, stomachs, thighs with anything they could find. I all too really saw with my very own eyes a friend slash chunks of flesh out of her arms "chunks"! and be rushed to hospital. I have felt the pain myself.. all through my teenage years witnessed and felt real real pain. It HURTS.
 The problem is sick people normalise there sickness or even become semi proud of there differences. In a sick world your drastic actions become something to lust after. Not just this it is a way of dealing with the "pain" the self obsessed fucking pain but it is sick it is ill. I have read about Richey he was no fake but the whole world becomes some sort of glamourised cult sick blood bath.
And I have been there... you can't help it but it is some sort of attention seeking thing, not conscious but so fucking sick. Sick for everyone else.
I feel his suffering. I get it. Yet...
I choose to distance myself. I spent my teenage years dealing with my own real problems and encountering my own real worlds. Pro- ana and pro- harm is something I am all too aware of. The destruction, the pure endless, glamorous destruction. I WANT to fit in. I WANT to be something. I AM SICK. THIS IS ME. THIS IS ME. THIS IS SO FUCKING ME THIS FUCKING TORTURED SOUL AND IT IS MY ONLY WAY OUT. I CUT MYSELF LIKE THIS. IT FEELS BETTER. IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD. I WANT TO DIE. LOOK AT MY BONES. LOOK AT MY BONES. DON'T LOOK AT MY BONES. IT IS ME. I WANT TO DISAPPEAR. THIS IS ME. I DON'T WANT TO BE ME. I HAVE THIS PROBLEM. IT IS MY LIFE. I AM SICK.
I had enough of it. I chose life. I chose to stop destroying myself. Chose to stop noticing my problems and get on with life. Deal with it.
The problem I have is the cult obsession. The cult leader ship and it is everywhere and it makes me sick. How dare people who don;t understand make judgements or think they no because they don't. How dare people shove this in my face as if it is going to make some sort of difference because it is not. Destruction isn't beautiful or tortured it is all so contrived and all so fake and I am not taking it.
Take it away. Take all this disgusting stuff away. It is there. But GOD don't be so self pitying and selfish and so fucking fucking selfish because you have no idea what you are doing.

4 stone 7 pounds

I eat too much to die
And not enough to stay alive

I'm sitting in the middle waiting
Cheeks sunken and despaired
Days since I last pissed
So gorgeous sunk to six stone
Lose my only remaining home

See my third rib appear
A week later all my flesh disappears
Stretching taut, cling-film on bone
I'm getting better

Kate and Emma and Kristin know it's fake
Karen says I've reached my target weight
Problem is diet's not a big enough word
I wanna be so skinny that I rot from view

I want to walk in the snow
And not leave a footprint
I want to walk in the snow
And not soil its purity
Stomach collapsed at five
Lift up my skirt my sex is gone

Naked and lovely and 5st. 2

May I bud and never flower
My vision's getting blurred
My hands are trembling stalks
But I can see my ribs and I feel fine
And I can feel my breasts are sinking

Mother trys to choke me with roast beef
And sits savouring her sole Ryvitta
But I can change, my cocoon shedding
That's the way you're built my father said

I want to walk in the snow
And not leave a footprint
I want to walk in the snow
And not soil its purity

Kate and Kristin and Kit Kat
All things I like looking at
Choice is skeletal in everybody's life
I choose my choice, I starve to frenzy
Too weak to fuss, too weak to die

Hunger soon passes and sickness soon tires
Legs bend, stockinged I am Twiggy
And I don't mind the horror that surrounds me
Self-worth scatters, self-esteem's a bore
I long since moved to a higher plateau


Just look at the fat scum who pamper me so
This discipline's so rare so please applaud
Yeh 4st. 7, an epilogue of youth
Such beautiful dignity in self-abuse
I've finally come to understand life
Through staring blankly at my navel 

by Manic Street Preachers

Grey block

totem

Yesterday I was very lucky to  be able to see Cirque de Soleil's latest production "Totem" at The Royal Albert Hall with my Mum, Sister and Wolfie. It is fair to say it is a spectacular, visual, masterpiece and a breathtaking performance of effortless and spellbinding talent. It is the first time I have ever witnessed one of their shows and it was everything I thought it would be and more. I have always said I would have liked to run away with the circus and this certainly cements this view (as well as the fact I will never (most probably) ever come close to being able too). It really was flawless and exquisitely fun entertainment; everything a circus should be: daring, shocking, funny, clever and beautiful but on an impressively grand scale with fantastic set, costume, make-up and most wonderfully - a great live troupe of musicians.
  "Totem" is a story about humanity and the natural world set on a fictional island and randomly stringing together stories and pictures of evolution both scientific and factual.
     "TOTEM celebrates our infinite potential, and traces Man's journey from the very beginnings of life on Earth to out ultimate desire to fly. BREAK FREE FROM GRAVITY. "

Anyone who is going you will have a fab time!

red blur

Shabba-dabba-da Look to the Future and A Diary of a MAD Artwork

Another fantastic night at Shabba ... even more colourful than usual.
Well done Mr Lismore and well done for the video.
Conversation of the evening:
Alex (to Mr Lismore) : Is that a real skull?
Mr Lismore : No not this time....
But I have just ordered two baby spines off the internet.
Me: Oh really? Do you think that is ok? Do you not think it is a bit disrespectful.
Mr Lismore: No, I hope someone wears me when I am dead!


(sorry if I caused any offence but surely this has to generate controversy and sometimes I just like a good debate :)
It sure will create an interesting look!)
xxx

nymph: a manifesto (work in progress)

1. A Nymph can be many, all, one or none of these things.
2. The definition of Nymph is in the eye of the beholder.
3. A Nymph transcends  the spiritual ordinary.
4. A Nymph transcends the human but is human.
5. A Nymph is an aura of "beauty".
6. A Nymph is undefined sexuality.
7. A Nymph is amoral.
8. A Nymph transcends time.
9. A Nymph is timeless.
10. A Nymph is natural.
11. A Nymph is not natural.
12. A Nymph doesn't belong.
13. A Nymph appears fragile and attracts through fragility.
14. A Nymph commands power.
15. A Nymph feels pain and thrives on it.
16. A Nymph suffers and commands suffering.
17. A Nymph blinds.
18. A Nymphs beauty is her pain.
19. A Nymph makes the end desolate.
20. A Nymph is water, fire, air and earth.
21. A Nymph is written in history.
22. A Nymph commands art.
23. A Nymph is one soul, many minds... connected.
24. A Nymph is troubled.
25. A Nymph is flesh and blood.
26. A Nymph is spirit.
27. A nymph is youth.
28. A Nymph is lust.
29. A Nymph is love.
30. A Nymph is love lost.
31. A Nymph is trapped.
32. A body is a prison.
33. A Nymph cannot define her actions.
34. A Nymph is words.
35. A Nymph is pictures.
36. A Nymph is a journey.
37. A Nymph is sex.
38. A Nymph is death.
39. A Nymph is undefined tears.
40. A Nymph is a dream.
41. A Nymph is a nightmare.
42. A Nymph is a song.
43. A Nymph is a ghost of the tangible.
44. A Nymph is ephemeral.
45. A Nymph is lines.
46. A Nymph is intrigue.
47. A Nymph is obsession.
48. A Nymph is falling.
49. A Nymph is special.
50. A Nymph is destroyed.

audrey tatou

is stunning....

she has the most amazing pixie face and not to mention beautiful charisma.
It is no surprise that she plays some of the most exciting characters in french/ english film.
She is divine.
Girl Crush of the day :)

cut

I think everyone should definitely make there way to the ICA to see the Bloomberg New Contemporaries show at the moment for an array of amazing work but in my opinion (and judging by the way it captivated everyone in the room) "CUT" by Kristian de la riva a short 2D animation is absolutely memorising, intriguing, disturbing and the most interesting piece of art i have seen in a long time. The pictures above really don't do it justice you have to go and see it.
It is completely detached from it's human subject, abstract and jarring. Based on self mutilation it is obvious where it's influence lie...Viennese activism ... however the result is far more considered resulting in a very questioning piece?

bunny girl

Synchronise

discodeine feat. jarvis cocker - synchronise

Discodeine feat. Jarvis Cocker - Synchronize from Here Comes The Flood on Vimeo.

loving the clocks, crosses and claws

Unit 1 feedback (because I am at university)

SI guess it is quite nice to have a bit of feedback on an academic level and this is what I got from that stupid REPORT i had to write. I don't know how many credits I got but have definitely passed... THANK GOD hehe... at least I don't have to write anymore essays for the rest of the year..

Research

• Wide ranging research that has been used to focus on self discovery.

Subject knowledge

• Excellent engagement with your subject

Communication and presentation

• This is very engagingly written. You have  constructed a good way to explore your concerns.  
• but you need to read your work thoroughly for mistakes.

Personal and Professional development

• The essay is evidence of a lot of learning and involvement with all aspects of your practice.

General

• You have used the essay to address issues of your practice effectively.
• You have used all aspects of your course imaginatively and with commitment.
• Read around the work that you look at to contextualise your responses more thoroughly.
• Perhaps begin to focus the enquiry further - it is very wide ranging.
• Use writing and re-writing to check for errors.

I would not normally post something like this however I think the feedback has been very helpful and informed. It furthers my faith in my course and my tutors and shows how important all criticism is. I am very pleased with my feedback and know that I fall back on checking work. I am tooo lazy. The fact is the essay bored me and I just wanted to write my thoughts. Anyway .. I still think I did well and it is good to know that I wrote something interesting.

So the first bit of my course down...

Does this help me become an artist?

Who knows!

nymph: a definition

I guess the time has come when a definition was needed. This is a dictionary definition; rather brief and vague. Short. Hard... this is not my definition. Now I need to define it myself.


nymph  (nmf)

n.

1. Greek & Roman Mythology Any of numerous minor deities represented as beautiful maidens inhabiting and sometimes personifying features of nature such as trees, waters, and mountains.

2. A girl, especially a beautiful one.

3. The larval form of certain insects, such as silverfish and grasshoppers, usually resembling the adult form but smaller and lacking fully developed wings. Also called nympha.

---

[Middle English nimphe, from Old French, from Latin nympha, from Greek numph.]

---

nymphal (nmfl) adj.

The journey continues...

To one in paradise... a year on.



The Snowdrop fairy whom my grandma loved

 Today marks a year since the day that my Grandma Pam died in hospital just before she was meant to be coming home. She was the best Grandma ever, so stong, so humble, so fun, so good, pure and loving.
She honestly belivied in faries with me (and that I was one) and I will always remember her as the sweetest person. She honestly loved, loved and loved. I know it is common to remember one like this. But she was truly, truly good. Intelligent but simple. She knew herself.
This year has been hard but I know she would want us all to continue as normal. Never one to make a fuss. I hae seen my mother work herself (virtually) into the gravetrying to orgaise everything, look after my grandad ( who is lovly bu not uite so understanding), organise a move for him, continue with her job and always alwasys stay strong. I am here for her.
  I saw my father show sorrow. My paretns have been divorced for years but he jumed to attention and showed real grief and love at the funeral. This respect is amazing.
  This year I have grown and always remembered Grandma Pam. She helps me. Everytime I have negative thought or want to give up...  I know what she would want.
Thank you.

I believe. I believe. I do believe in faries!

Thou wast that all to me, love,
For which my soul did pine--
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
 All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
 And all the flowers were mine.

 Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
A voice from out the Future cries,
 "On! on!"--but o'er the Past
 (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!

 For, alas! alas! with me
 The light of Life is o'er!
"No more--no more--no more"--
 (Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
 Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances,
 And where thy footstep gleams--
In what ethereal dances,
 By what eternal streams!
Alas! for that accursed time
They bore thee o'er the billow,
From love to titled age and crime,
 And an unholy pillow!
 From me, and from our misty clime,
 Where weeps the silver willow!

1835 by Edgar Allan Poe

Aware/ Art Fashion Identity ...

Fashion or "clothing" whatever that might be is a major buiding block in revealing so called identity. The current exhibiton (part of the innovative GSK contemporary season) explores how artists and designers use
the medium of clothing to reveal personal, generic or universal identity.

Storytelling

• representing the role of clothing in personal ot cultural history

We can create clothing to share our past, our dreams, things we know and to teach or represent.
Storytelling can also be about the life of "clothing" itself.

Helen Storey's Say Goodbye 2010 is a comment on clothing and its constant need for relacement and the cultural fast shift in clothing. Thid work is biodegradible and made from enzymes which desolve when in contact with water. Incredibly innovative if not slightly spooky... does this mean clothing could be almost living?

Building

• Clothing can be about protection or shelter.  This can be grand as in a house or small... do we all use clothing to hide parts of ourselves and protevct us from what might be perceived?

Belonging and confronting

• This section examined the idea of nationality but also what it is to not belong. On a more personal scale cloting can help you make friends or feel pat of something. Uniforms are created  representation of what we do.

Above Chic Point by Sharif Waked 2003 was particularly interesting to me because of the questions it raised on belonging. It faces the complexities of politics in the middle east. Cloting can be used to juxtapose harsh realities with what  we percieve to be glamour creating a mockery of  politics and regime.

Performance

• Clothing is key to us as humans and artists have shown it plays a role in our society through perfomance. It provides a barrier and suggests convention. We are not used to the lack of clothing

Yoko Ono's work shows how the stripping away of clothes is a powerful and uneasy gesture.
Are we meant to be clothed?

Yoko Ono Cut Piece 1965


I think the exhibition was generally good however there is far more to indentity and fashion than these generic outlines. Youth, music, sex and religion were just a few areas not touched on... let alone the fashion industry itself. Good works but sparse.

Here is to building our own identity.

Fallen Nymph

When she falls in love
          she falls
                she falls
Because she is not free.

Not her who has trapped
She is trapped.

Trapped by her
                   heart
No power
Lost

Not that she ever desired power
that is expected
Just
     the chance to
                         escape?
No decisions
No blocked pathways
The journey unknown
       the future e n d l e s s . . .

But she
she is a girl
         a girl
         a life.
Wild bird
Wild thing.


                But love
                She loves
She kills for             love
Not            kills
But something
                     something dies.

Violent life
Violent ends

All
Just
Love

I wrote my destiny in patchwork..

I do not expect to be a mother by Tracey Emin 2002

The way we think of ourselves, the way we present ourselves, the way we make oursleves... It is like being trapped. Stuck in the world of our lives. It is fear.  Fear of the unexpected or the softening of oneself, of love or change. Fear of it turning out differently. This life we write for ourselves ... is it some kind of prison?

wax lyrics

Shabba-dabba-da NEW YEARS EVE

best NEW YEARS EVE PARTY YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!!
TOO MUCH CHAMPAGNE....

DRUNK OUT OF MUGS LIKE CUPS OF WEE... HEHE

Please wake up

Blood thickens as the cries scream

Churling shudders of little limbs

Weak heartbeats of bleeding lives

Nightmares child

Evil child

              Innocent nothingness

                                                Life that should not be



Strangling veins of alien creatures

Crying whining terror



Brain dead feeding sucking parasite

But

Bursting Life



A little whimper of hope

Times time that is yet to begin

But oh that whimper is of pain

MURDER



Hard cold no reason no option no thinking
                                                    killing

Life or LIFE

Pain or PAIN

IS this control I seek or total lack of control
                                                                       take it away
                                                                       take it away

Someone take it away



Red crimson water

Running streams

Streaming ruby

Flowing heartache



Are you mine

Is it mine?

Is this what it will be like
LIFE



Oh
      But you are just a dream

Why dream?

Oh dream be gone you haunting spectre of sodden life

That’s it

Plese wake up

a first attempt at trying to get this nightmare baby ot of my head...

... this is going to have to be a project.
It is HAUNTING ME

If I could be a dior illustration...

... I would be a Diorella girl.

On "Dior Illustrated -Rene  Grau and The Line of Beauty" at Somerset House

As always a vey well curated, interesting and visually beautiful exhibition at the Embankment Galleries at Somerset House. Like walking into a flower garden full of rare and exotic plants... basically a stunning collection of exquisite well preserved and original illustrations that are instantly recognisable and unmistakingly Dior. The ultra feminine, the ultra classy, the ultra borgeouis and ultra fragrant.

It is clear that Grau sees to be key to the invention of Dior and the partnership between him and Dior was one of soul like qualities.
"To be inspired by Dior is to  be inspired  by Rene Grau. His sketches capture the silhouette and spirit of Dior and a new era of fashion and femininity. His illustrations are timeless, ever youthful, ever faithful to the moment he saw; they capture the energy, the sophistication and daring of Dior, and equally are a token of enduring friendship."
               John Galliano

Diorella 1972
- A young  free spirit

Miss Dior 1971

Diorling 1963

Eau Savage 1978

- My quintessential man