The weekly cunt : Volume 1

From this moment on I propose a new weekly feature to my blog "The coloured cunt!"

One of my birthday presents from Wolfie was the above colouring book.

I will start at the beginning and work to the end.

All designs will become apparent. 

Enjoy.

x

One for the scrap book...

Just for when I am an old granny trying to prove to my grandchildren that I was young once... "Look, this is me, when I was young, in NME!" 

As I said before the gig was amazing and NME's write up proved that. As for me, I think I am one of those "red lipped girls (sweating) it up against boys with ironic haircuts.... unbearably hot and irritatingly "cool" "  PAH HA

On being twenty

Yesterday I turned twenty.
Twenty years of life.
Breathing this air.
I don't know how I feel.
I didn't want to be twenty.
It terrified me.
I panicked and broke down the day before.
I don't really know why.
Probably because my 19th birthday was the best day of my life.
Because twenty isn't a teenager anymore.
Because life goes so fast.
Because everything changes.
Everything is transient.
But this isn't a bad thing.
It is just fear.
I remember everything about the last ten years of my life so clearly and sometimes I don't feel like I have changed at all. I know I have. But i am still that girl.
I still feel stuck like that sometimes.
I hated being a teenager.
Or at least I don't think I was very happy.
I didn't feel at one.
Or like I fitted in.
I hated school.
I spent two years in mental hospital.
I was sick.
I was depressed.
I fell in love.
I fell out of love.
I fell in love again.
I went up and I went down.
I ate.
I didn't eat.
I cried.
I cried.
I smiled.
I laughed.
I became and artist.
I became an actor.
I grew.
I travelled.
I drew.
I screamed.
I shouted a lot.
I hurt things.
I got hurt.
I hurt myself.
I haven't spent a day doing nothing.
Apart from when I was forced.
I was imprisoned by others / I was trapped by myself.
I achieved.
I found myself.
I lost myself.
It keeps on going.
I drunk.
I drunk to much.
Had bad sex.
Good sex.
Used sex.
I made friends.
I lost friends.
I learnt to talk.
I learnt to listen.
I watched the world.
I still do.
I am changing.
And trying to change for the better.
Made rules.
Broke rules.
Challenged myself.
Always challenged myself.
Grew selfish.
Cared about others.

Change is permanent.
Fear is hard to overcome.
The future is in my hands.
Who knows what twenty means.
I had a great day.

Me at twenty

Truth

"The only constant truth in our universe is change and as sombre and tragic as this may seem it is also quite beautiful..."

Ever

When am I going to stop crying?
When am I going to stop walking around with a broken heart?
Am I ever going to recover from this?
This is wasting my life.
Good memories are not happy anymore.
Ever.

Violet eyes

What closed hearts we have.
Who truly understands themselves and tells how they truly are?
To say I feel
Or to act the way they know?
To see your tears -
The one who knows my little limbs and shone into those violet eyes.
Violet eyes - first sight was you.
To say I know you!
But to know the world...
Give it all to you in an instant,
You gave it to me.
Please stop and see
Your good heart.
My breathe would not exist without your blood
Yet your heart set fire to my mind.
Remember painting the sky?
The wind can save you.
Time for us three.

Zodiac Heads

My photographs of Ai Wei Wei's Zodiac Heads at Somerset House

Joining the band wagon..

http://twitter.com/#!/EffyRose

follow...

Susu Laroche

KHTM from XIXXII on Vimeo.


It is currently degree show mayhem and I certainly have a lot to say on the matter, especially on St Martins,  I just don't quite no where to start.
So here I begin. Before I write a proper review with my favourite piece from the Fine Art BA Show at Charing Cross Road. Something that had an effect on me. Made me question behaviour, ritual and aesthetically pleased me. That is it for now. The above is a short clip. I love it. Check out http://susularoche.com/ for more.

A room with a view

All I want is a room with a view

A place that I can call home

To be.

Sit and sleep and smile

To work and to dream

In my room with a view

A view of London Town.

Midsummer madness

"Why this is very Midsummer Madness."
                                                     William Shakespeare

The weather may be saying differently but we have reached midsummer and suddenly I feel completley different. I feel a bit magical and perfectly at peace. Everything has been a bit grey and maybe it will remain so but something within me has changed.

Look on to the summer and see and feel all the sensations that I can.
Life is good.
Smile.
Now I am free and can take of and fly wherever I want.
I feel like going now. Just going at life.
So much has changed in the last half a year and now I am feeling like it is for the good.
It is exciting.
I think I know how to live again and feel and think and make decisions and go forwards instead of being stuck in the same place.
This is ephemeral, transient but at the moment it is wonderful.
Time will tell.
My time has started again.
My madness is going away again.
This is light.

BP Portrait Award 2011

Paintings are mostly lost on me. Portraits confuse me. Generally I am more drawn to photography and film as a medium. Painting is a skill. A skill I don't have. Or maybe it is a patience I don't have?
If I could and loved it.. I probably would paint more.
I am not sure how they pick these portraits, it must be a mammoth challenge? Some I like. Some I don't.
"Holly" the second prize winner I thought was beautiful.
I was also surprised to see a familiar face hanging on the wall. That of David Carter. The thing about seeing a painted portrait of someone is that it has some kind of authority and grandeur that you don;t link with people you might actually know face to face... even though Mr Carter is more than GRAND!
I would go see... It's interesting because we forget where art comes from. We forget there are still artists painting portraits and self training and artists from all over the world just loving there craft and wanting it to be seen. Whatever you think of the painted portrait. This is good. And I love people, I think any portrait is a celebration of this.

"HOLLY" by Louis Smith.. described by the Independent's Jonathon Jones as "a retro-academic soft- porn fantasy" (and in a good way)  is definitely my favourite. 

Just go away

Oh, don't ya know?
Don't wanna see ya any more.
Put up or shut up.
Ya spell, ya read, D.O.O.R.
Ya got a big mouth and I'm happy to see your foot is firmly entrenched where a molar should be.
If you talk much louder you could get an award from the federal communications board.
Don't be cruel.
Be a thing - sweet thing as a rule.
Don't be sad.
I left you in the street.
You're pre-fab.
I had to get away.
Don't go away sad.
Don't go pre-fab.
Don't go be bad.
Don't go away mad, just go away.
Oh, don't ya know?
Don't wanna see ya here no more.
Pack it and move it.
Ya spell, ya read, O.U.T out.
Don't be bad.
A mad hatter's beret.
Sometimes you look, like you just made an escape.
Don't be mad or lose your medicaid cool.
Of course, cool rhymes with fool.
Don't go be bad 'cause you been had.
Don't go away sad.
Don't go away mad,
Just go away!
Go away!
Oh, don't ya know?
I don't wanna see ya curse and pout.
Pack it and move it.
Ya spell, ya read, O.U.T out.
You got a big mouth and I'm happy to see
Your foot is firmly entrenched where a molar should be
Don't be mad or lose your medicaid cool
of course cool rhymes with fool
Don't go be bad 'cause you been had.
Don't go away sad.
Don't go away mad,
Just go away!
Go away!
Don't go be bad 'cause you've been had
Don't go away sad
Don't go away mad
Just go away!
Go away!
Go away and stay away!

Lovebox BOOKED :)

Just bought my ticket to this:

Can't wait it is going to be amazing :)

Please all pray for sunny weather.

As soon as it stops raining this summer is going to be the best summer ever!

You make me more than cry

The star boy in my mind smiles on sound.

Silence glistens as my fractured brain feels whole.

What imagination I must have had to make him live and still the ghost remains?

A spectre of hope – it haunts me.

I cry when I feel what I have lost yet I do not know whether it ever even existed.

The story was there.

Fairytale fiction that found my heart and fixed my thoughts and made me feel free.

Freedom that slowly suffocated my shadow and changed from light to dark in an instant.

Beautiful boy with that pretty face and perfect body that fits just right and closes this space,

In my dreams you still stay,

One day, one day...

One day I will find you and the world will be the right colour again.

To feel found I have to say goodbye.

I miss the kiss. Tears fill my eyes because

I miss the kiss and my face tenses up.

Choking body.

I feel so angry at not knowing what or how or why I feel or why you fucking did this?

Choking frustration at you making this silly little girl so vile.

I want it to be ok.

Live the life...

But we planned so different.

I was the one that believed it. A fault so faultless.. I wish I could be like that again.

I just can't help but hate you.

That star boys ignorance.

You make me more than fucking cry.

What's eating Gilbert Grape?

Ice Cream in the rain

Eating ice cream in the rain again. Small pleasure trying to prove that the actual isn't happening. Sunlight streams in and warmth radiates. Melting in my mouth the temperature outside is not pleasant but at least I can pretend. It just looks to good to ignore. Ice cream has to be cold. The melted stuff just is not as good. So maybe the rain helps? Just hard when you have to huddle. I would rather be bathing in brilliance. Tired of greyness. The red strawberry and rich chocolate add colour at least. It is something about the tub, the spoon, the holiday feel. Is it possible that ice cream makes my life better? Or is this just another failed attempt at happiness?

Crown Jewels

The Beautiful and The Damned...

 There really is nothing more comforting than being told a bedtime story. For most of us the idea of pyjamas are long gone.. if we wear anything at all whilst we sleep it is a scraggy old t-shirt and pants, our teddybears are somewhere in our parents attics and we either drink our selves to sleep, shag our ourselves to sleep, bore ourselves to sleep .. or simply don't go to sleep at all. But every so often, and it normally comes along when I most need it, I find myself inside an enchanted little castle, invisible from the outside, on the hideous Mile End Road.

 This place is 40 Winks, the charming, mysterious and delectable home of the even more magical Mr Carter (A dandyesque, elfin creature, cheeky and chirpy.. tall and talented.. a story book special!) . A hidden gem, I have become quite acquainted with the place over the last couple of years. This house is my friend.

 Don't get me wrong. Bed time story night is all about escapism but escapism of the best kind. We aren't regressing to childhood, we aren't playing make-believe, we are in it. In a very unusual but a very adult world of entertainment, experience, adventure and journeys.

 I move on to The Beautiful and The Damned. It seems that for the last couple of evenings everyone I have met in this universe has been exactly that. Guests after being escorted to the un-dressing rooms then transform themselves into temptresses and proud princes, scantily clad or gloriously gowned in beautiful night-time attire. No body can be ugly at forty winks! It is part of the magic of the place.

 The more beautiful the guests become the more damned the get as they sip and slurp on lots and lots of very special, very unusual Hendrix gin (ok so maybe we still drink ourselves to sleep)! Gin in tea cups. Gin. Gin. My I love gin! Nibbling on smoked salmon and freshly cooked sausage roles the guests mingle joyfully sharing tales of their lives... why this is a story in itself. Flirtation happens, innuendo rolls but the most witty and wonderful sort. The flirtation of the mind.

 I can't tell you of all the excitement and magic of the place because it is held inside my heart. The mystery engulfs it and the outside world isn't quite capable of explaining the experience. We heard tales of the devil, the destruction, the death of the divine. Stories of the sea, sex and seduction. Music filled the air and silence struck. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

 I love this place. It is the home inside my head. Theatrical majesty becomes reality and I don't have to dream anymore.

 Leaving is always hard. Back to the “outside” but you have learnt something new. Felt something new. Whether you choose to remain beautiful, damned or both, 40 winks will always be there just behind the facade.