g i r l . e i g h t

One hundred girls in one hundred days: day eight! Pen, brush, ink and marker on paper. Polka dot face. I feel like I'm getting better at eyebrows; they're always been my nemeses.

g i r l . s e v e n

One hundred/one hundred days/number seven! I've made it one week, and I'm proud of that. I've finally used some colour too. Ink, brush and pen on paper, digitally coloured. Crazy eyes. 

g i r l . f i v e

One hundred girls in one hundred days, day five. Ink and brush on paper.

c r i s i s

I found myself dealing with a minor crisis a few mornings ago. I've already mentioned my erratic sleeping patterns as of late; on this particular day, lack of rest caused me to sleep in later than normal. So, having overslept by five minutes (which is saying something, seeing as I habitually only leave myself a 20 minute window to shower, get dressed and run out the door in the morning...oops) I, stumbled briskly through my morning routine until finally I attempted to pull on a pair of tights (as per usual, uniform = dress, cardigan, tights!). I chose a grey pair which someone had given me and were the wrong size; the clock was ticking down as I struggled to pull these tight tights up my legs and they got all twisted and weird and I realized, panic stricken within two minutes of my necessary departure time that there was no way I could survive the day wearing them but no way that I could change them before leaving.

I stuffed another pair of tights in my purse and ran out the door; with every step I took they rolled a little bit further down my bum and wiggled down my legs...and let me tell you, there's no discomfort like being wedged into an overcrowded morning commuter train with sausage casings pinching you.

l a d y

I generally don't consider myself to be photogenic; I have a tendency to stand in unflattering positions or make weird faces when I try to smile.

Josh took these photos of me over the weekend, and we were both thrilled with how nicely they came out! "I'm so glad to finally have some nice pictures of you," he said. But as soon as we got home and he took a proper look at them, it soon became apparent that I'd had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction... (fall weather plus busty girl deciding not to wear a bra equals, well, you can imagine).

I'm laughing it off; to be honest, I'd rather have decent photos of myself with visible nips than pristine ones with me making an unintentionally silly face.

c o l d

Quickly coloured sketch; mysterious man on a journey.

I like strong chins, big noses and skin glowing red from the cold.

s k e t c h y

i f . i . h a d . a . h e a r t

While the rest of the world was going gaga for Game of Thrones (which I've incidentally started watching recently, and yeah...it's good), I was busy falling in love with Vikings. It has the same gritty, medieval feeling as GOT and in addition to being completely addicting, it had one of the most hauntingly amazing season finales I've ever seen.

A few weeks ago, I whipped up these portraits of Vikings two main characters, Ragnar Lothbrok and his wife Lagertha for Josh, the boyfriend's, birthday. (He's starting to amass a little shrine of my artwork on his wall!)
 

f l a s h b a c k . f r i d a y . 2

Lately, it feels like all I think about is the girl in these photos: the versions of myself that existed once, long ago. I imagine them still out there somewhere, preserved on alternate plains of reality; in memory, I jump from self to self as easily as flipping through photographs, remembering.

She is me and I am her, but she's gone forever. I must finally be an adult now, mourning my childhood as if that little girl really did die.

n o r m a l . p e o p l e

Self-portraiture, trying to capture an elusive feeling. The feeling I feel when I listen to melancholy notes of movie soundtracks: wistful longing.

. . .

I blame the "Water for Elephants Soundtrack".

r o m a n

Roman soldier & wolf headdress. Detail from a Christmas present painting. Acrylic on canvas.

b l o n d i e

Coloured sketch.