Thursday, 26 November 2009

Illustration friday-Music

Our bodies beat like a drum, sometimes when we hear a tune our hair stands up on ends which is why she has triangles on her sleeves, the body of the bird i tried to make nebula space like as music the universal language, the song of whales before the industry, the song of the sea, bird song, her headphone wire goes through her heart and a little bird holds it with his beak.

Thursday, 19 November 2009

Monday, 16 November 2009

world of echo

I really enjoy using white Ink on black, wetting the black acrylic or spray paint with water and just using a really tiny brush, the water catches the white ink and the patterns start to form. 

Tuesday, 10 November 2009

little fox of two worlds Somedays you creep into the city like a ghost through a wall,  static and electric sounds surround you, and in winter neon snakes wind through the trees.

Monday, 9 November 2009

Thursday, 5 November 2009


Jen Stark

10,000 pieces of paper cut (per day) for 100 days. Beautiful hand made confetti.

Her work has been referred to as 'jewels'. I want to try describe how Jen Starks work makes me feel. I agree that they are jewels every bit of course, minus a typical jewel like sparkle, yet I feel they still posses a sort of secret invisible sparkle that is none other synchronized and felt within the viewer (if being me), if you pulled a x-ray screen machine along side me whilst i was gazing into a piece of her work, the screen would reveal something shining inside me, like say resembling a piece of glass reflecting in the sun. They are without faces but I cannot help but want to smile at them. Starks work is regarded as being spiritual/looking at a sculpture you can lose yourself in the work, bringing out a good feeling in people,

When visiting france, art supplies were costly, so she bought the cheapest, yet item with what she believed offered the most potential. A stack of coloured paper. Her work draws inspiration from microscopic patterns in nature, wormholes, and sliced anatomy.

                               One of Jen Starks drawings

Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Smell of birch bark and friendly flygarics..

With networks underground as complex as the human brain, ancient and shamanic is the cheery flyagaric...and not to mention such a bright shiny rouge. Deers like to eat them. 
Some snaps taken in the birch forest...

It is the season of frost and the first frost was recent, so the next morning was an arrival of a very many merry mushroom and toadstool.
The first few I spotted that morning were the edible iridescent shaggy ink caps, to be about 6" high and produce ink, and by the end of the day, turn into a puddle of ink. The other below is sometimes known as chicken leg of the woods and apparently tastes just like chicken. In a grimm brothers fairy tale I was reading the stars of the north gave a young girl a 'chicken leg' to use as a key to get inside a crystal castle hidden inside a mountain range, where she would find her captured brothers who had been turned into ravens.

Rain in Arhem Land ♥

I managed to pick this book up for a bargain at a book sale held in my old student union. I love the block print- style illustrations, and spirited away short stories. Some of my favorite verses...

Down the trunk of the tree the funniest procession was moving, one hairy caterpillar after another travelling from the high branches to join it's brothers and sisters on their way towards the ground. The leading caterpillar had almost reached the part of the trunk where the shape of the big roots made jutting buttresses and folds of bark, while the others were coming wriggle, wriggle, wriggle after him.
"What are they doing?" Mindui, the little girl, wanted to know as she watched in astonishment. Mainjari joined them then. He was a little bit older than Mindui and Barai, and so they turned to him. "What are the dabelain doing?' they demanded together. " This kind of caterpillar, the debelain, do this every year," he explained. "As soon as they hear the first thunderstorm coming, they know it is time to move,so down they come. They make silk tents for themselves at the bottom of a tree and there they go to sleep while the wet season is on. The rain runs off the shelter, so they are snug and dry. Uncle Juma painted a picture about it one time."
"What happens when they wake up?" Mindui asked, with her inquisitive nose only a few inches from the fuzzy travellers. She was fascinated by the way their funny little feet moved so smoothly that they gave the effect of a constant ripple, and she nearly went cross-eyed trying to see which foot moved first and which one last. "They turn into some kind of a bunba," explained Mainjari."A butterfly.

"The Bapi Yindi, the big snake, with the lesser snakes of the dreaming, watched over the land and the people, and all was peace.

"Now all the rain snakes had shining tougues. When they stood up high on their tales to sing for the monsoon to come the light from their tongues flickered on the clouds. That was the quiet lightening. There was no loud thunder in those early days to frighten the people, nor strong lightening with burning fire in it.

"After the big snake had swallowed the two women he began to have the most peculiar feeling in his middle. He was almost uncomfortable. "Ya wui!' he cried, standing up high on his tail with his head in the topmost clouds. 'Ya wui. I have swallowed two wise women and do not like the feel of them inside me. Ya-a-a-a!' For Ganyedingu and her sister had woken up as they were being swallowed, and they did not like the feeling of being inside the snake either. They wanted to get out at once.
"The smoke from their campfire was caught in the thick hair of the two sisters, and it made Bapi Yindi cough. He coughed and he coughed, making a noise like all the thunder storms of one wet season, and when he coughed his long fork tongue flickered out like a shining flame. "But the coughing did not make the big snake feel any better.
"So the he curled himself round and round among the clouds, until they looked like high piles of frothy soap-suds, just as the storm clouds do in the wet season when it is thundering. "But the twisting round and round did not make him feel any easier.
"So then he threw himself down across the countryside-thump! And when he stood up again on his tail he left a long and very curly river bed marked in the earth very neatly, just waiting for the rain to fall and make it run with water to the sea. "Several times he did this in different places, each time leaving new, curly river beds behind him. That is why the rivers along this part of the coast wind about like twisting snakes.