I'm seeing Shadows and Reflections in Everything ...

Photographs taken at "Stories to make you scream" at 40 Winks

The Audience

Lost in a story. 

The audience at the notorious 40 Winks.

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.

Museum

In the museum
We stand as RELICS
Watched by those remnants of the past.
Ageless


Priceless
SUBSTANCE


There eyes see so much?
Stone eyes.
Jewel eyes.
Secret eyes.
No eyes.


We are the oddities?
We are categorised and stored.
Our individuality arranged and seen.
Time has been so       long.


These gods and goddesses.
Saints, serephins. Share your secrets...
I wish I could open my eyes and see your stories. Instead I have to
close THEM.
I. We are just flesh.
You live. You see the heart of the world in time.

It is in the eyes

Burton knows how to create something beautiful. The haunted. The lost.  The strange. The gothic. The sad. The unrequited. The romanic. Johnny Depp as Edward Scissorhands.

A story of a city

Sitting in the dark, the walls wallowed in her misery. A crack in the corner caressed the foul odour of her stale tears. The starless sky beckoned at her heart as she stared stuck in solitude out of her dusty window.

  She no longer knew what she wanted - or she wanted nothing. Everything had been lost. She had been completely devoured by her heart. Memories taunted her as if to deliberately remind her of what she had lost. She had felt so whole and so, so very free. For the first time in her life she had felt she was not alone; her soul had been complete. This was in the past. 

   The street lamps cast an ugly light on the greasy rotten street below; the street below that had become her life. The street where she had spent the only time she could ever remember joy. 

  She got up, took a few tender steps to the door. One. Two. Three. her body wasn't working right. Too drained of life but still she forced herself on. All she wanted was to get out there and attempt some kind of new freedom or at least end this prisoners existence. Nobody came anymore. She used to eagerly wait. Waiting to here his footsteps as they ran up the dirty stairway. Now they were empty of any noise. Sometime her heart still skipped a beat as she imagined she heard something; What evil hope teased her. Nothing ever came. 

 One foot in front of the other she levered herself down the stairs. A few more steps to go. She pushed her way outside on to the squalid street and stood for a second. The air stung at her skin. London was no place for her anymore. She began to run. The pain didn't feel like anything anymore. Faster and faster bare footed along the filthy bloodstained pavement she flew. Clarity filled her mind and a stream of light reeled her path. She was sure she was following something. Some sort of discovery.

 Onwards she pushed passing once familiar sights and structures. A place that once excited her had become so bland and grey but now there was definitely a light. The sky seemed to fill with stars. Beautiful shimmering stars and she felt as if she was soaring above everything.  A white space filled her mind and sound, glorious sound flooded her ears. Now that place was so so close. 

  When she was a little girl she had believed in fairytales. A year  ago she had believed in fairytales and fairies and life! That had been crushed by blackness. Her reality was coming back to her. She looked down to earth and she saw water. clear water and at the bottom was a beautiful city. The city was unlike anything on earth. It was fresh and clean and uncontaminated by anything human. There were people but they were shining creatures and the looked happy. More than happy. They looked natural. This was where the light was coming from. She just had to reach it. She knew if she could become that pure then she would be really truly free. The city was full of love. Truth, beauty, freedom and love. This was her chance to escape. Shut the door on her past and welcome her eternity. She just had to be strong enough to pass this last door. 

 She glanced back. Blackness. She was running from a horrible storm and there was one way out. It swirled and beckoned. The darkness was still trying to seduce her. Convince her that there was excitement in that cruel world. Then she saw him. Standing there. A slight smile on his pale lips. Standing tall in the middle of the raging winds. Her heart juddered. He whispered. The words reverberating through her body " I will always be here to protect your heart." From there it all became easy.

  I no longer looked backwards but only forwards at what was beyond the water. There I would truly belong. This humanity was all a lie and beyond lay peace. I stood tall and straight for a few moments. One . Two. Three. " I will always love you!" and jumped. Symphonies filled my ears and I knew finally I had found life.

Alice fell down the rabbit hole

Alice fell down the Rabbit hole
Longer and LONGER AND LONGER...
Everything changed.
Twisting and turning
Turning and twisting
                    Twirling dreams
Skipped heartbeats.

Adventure began.

Eyes opened
Smaller and bigger
Fatter and thinner
Riddles of hearts and questions of living?
Ticking clocks
Time stops!
Tick tock tick tock
Turn the lock
Open the door and step right through
Worlds of mirrors and sinners and winners
Big black bows looped through your thinking
The story unknown
The future unfolding.

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

Stick boy and match girl in love

Stick Boy liked Match Girl,
He liked her a lot.
He liked her cute figure,
He thought she was hot.

But could a flame ever burn
For a match and a stick ?
It did quite literally;
He burned up pretty quick.

by Tim Burton


.... love is a dangerous affair but being caught in the flame is worth the pain :)!

little matchstick girl

I have to pray this is not the dawn of an ice age!
Yes snow is lovely... for a couple of weeks ski holiday in the alps/ in snow globes/ made into a snowman/ as icing.... in pretty pictures/fairytales!
but not in london when I am trying to live my life.
I feel sick with the cold and everything is so hard!
I do not own a nice snowy wardrobe and nothing is warm enough...
I like wearng no clothes!
ahhh... i look like a bloody tramp in this weather!

...Can't wait to move to LA!!!!


Or I will end up like the Little Matchstick Girl!....

"It was New Year’s Eve, and a poor little girl was out on the cold streets selling matchsticks. She was hungry and freezing, with neither hat nor shoes. She was afraid to go home for her father would surely beat her as she had not sold any matchsticks that day.

In a nook between two buildings she tried to warm herself by lighting her matches. In the light of the first match she saw a hot iron stove. She then lit a second match and this time saw a fully laden dinner table with a cooked goose that came right toward her. It too disappeared as the match went out. By the light of the third match she saw a beautiful Christmas tree lit with thousands of candles. The lights of the tree went higher and higher until she saw that they were the stars. One became a shooting star and she remembered her grandmother telling her that a shooting star means that a person has died and a soul gone to heaven.

Upon lighting the next match she saw her grandmother, the only person who ever loved her. Hoping to keep her grandmother as long as possible, she quickly lit the whole bunch of matches. Her grandmother then lifted her in her arms and they flew with joy and glory higher and higher and there was no cold, no hunger, no fear – they were with God.

The next morning her body was found with a smile upon her lips, frozen to death and with a burned out bunch of matches. “She wanted to warm herself!” people said. No one knew what beauty she had seen or with what glory she had gone with her grandmother into a joyous new year."

... that is dead! but I DON'T WANT TO BE!!!

theatre in subtitle

Last night I set off on another Barbican adventure to see Shun-Kin by Complicite.
A story of blinding light and darkness I really didn't know what I was in for.
The play really hit and touched me on a number of levels.... for a start the very fact that I never imagined it to be NOT IN ENGLISH! shocked me. How narrow minded i am! How lazy! The neon subtitles forced the audience to work hard shifting their gaze from the bright to the dark... minds woking fast trying not to miss a word or a scene. The stark contrat of the modern light and the dakness and ancientness of the story hinting at the complexity of the modern world. The cocoon of electricity playing against the blanket of shadows... which is more repressive?
The story.. one of blindess.. the audiene loosing their language.. the players their sight . A play about a woman's life time- "Shun-KIn" but in reality the story of her guide, slave and lover Sasuke. A story of the senses and of time. What is love? Is it harsh ... S and M? The vunerability and reliance of a master or the utter devotion of a slave?
What is love... to blind one self? Or would you blind yourself for love?
The complexity of love is revealed in its closeness to violence. A beauty or and ugliness who can tell? The story was troubling even at the most basic level but who are we to judge? All our lives are intertwined with darkness and light.
Stemming from traditional Japanese culture it questioned the past and future. What is right and where we are heading. The link betwee technology and the play was obvious... the play was reliant on technology yet it seemed to pity it.
Can we know fully live our lives noticing the magic and loveliness or are we tooo blinded?
Who knows?
What do you think?...

























The trailer for the japenense film of the same story (not as stylised)...

... A must watch in Japanese!

i found some skeletons in my cupboard...

This duo got my vote as best dressed gin drinkers at forty winks haunted bed time storynights (where I work.)