Thursday, 4 August 2011

...and yet finding a new...


...designer


O D E U R




When it comes to simplicity i most definitely high five O D E U R.

Inspired by Nouveau Riche (also known as 'New Money')
"Where The Shimmer Lies" is their S/S 11 Unisex Collection,
which comes across as a style quest for those who over indulge in the idea of fashion yet who struggle to reveal themselves with their newly
achieved wealth.


Unexpected pattern cutting clashed with the use of a bright yet neutral colour palette, in contrast to their more darker scales in previous garments, dominates the style in this collection.

Metallic copper - now seen as the new Gold, is used as
an accessory structure, breaking up the fabric to create a defined characterized silhouette. Quite unique as the garments are so fitting as a unisex collection.

I love the stillness it creates, clean yet creased in personality...it's almost delicately futuristic.






Monday, 1 August 2011

...or walking into frightening splendour...


Oh little boutique...

...Oh little shop of wonders...

...Oh Collard Manson.



I have awed over this little treat that Nottinghams' Lace Market has offered for many a year to me, 4 in fact since i moved here and finally i belong.

I remember the first attempt to walk past the little fashion boutique however was pulled, and soon after the gawping expression on my face became apparent to my friends...I was not going to leave willingly. I walked in to find designers of bowing worthy, Vivienne Westwood, Jean Paul Gaultier (the most amazing umbrella with black laced pleats), to local and upcoming designers/artists such as Daisy Thomas and her beaded beauty accessories & Nicola Donovan an artist who envelopes herself in sculpture and figurative/conceptual clothing.

Clearly i was having a sweet ass time prowling through jewellery splayed on a vintage desk, leafing through art books, admiring vintage looking homeware, touching the weird pattern-cut clothes. So i did the only thing that could be done...bought a necklace and asked if there were any job vacancies. Not only were there no jobs, but a huge cv pile...

...i tried again the following month, then year...and the one after...

...then on one pretty average day in May this year i saw it...POSITION FOR SALES ASSISTANT AVAILABLE! I went straight to my flat, printed off a CV and was back within 20 minutes handing over my letter and babbling on about ridiculousness.

Now here i am! Surrounded by it all. The 'it' being glorious amounts of awesomeness that i get to stock and touch and arrange, then re-arrange. What's also amazing is that it's brought back my creativity.

I am now constantly inspired & it feels bloody brilliant!

Sunday, 31 July 2011

...entrance to a book...

So.

As it has been a tremendous, exaggerated long time since i last wrote in this blog, properly, i thought it high time to also update the becomings of "The Perfect Doll".

Would not entirely blame any of you if you have forgotten about it, but to those who keep asking...it has a final prologue, i will not re-edit or look at it again until i finish the rest...about bloody time Kimberley. To those who don't know, I've been writing this book, book one of a trilogy, for three years now. It's actually bloody hard to do, but finally i am making good progress.

Due to the random inspiration fellow friends Miss Lilycrab & Miss Young bestowed upon me a few months back, whilst watching 'Criminal Minds', don't ask, i kind of conjured this dark depth of writing, which in turn was going to become part of a short story. I'm not quite sure if it was the intense silence in the room at that time (an apparent must if the program is EVER on) or the intense glazed concentration that had taken over my friends, but whatever i wrote that day poured out of me like some mad poem a demon needed to piss! Eerie indeed. However as the paragraph formed i realized how fitting the nature of the content was for "The Perfect Doll", especially for one character i had in mind. Well anyway here it is...


“Let my heart be still a moment –

And this mystery explore”

Edgar Allan Poe

Prologue

It came swiftly. The soft scream emitting from Odicia’s tinted berry lips; beads of sweat beginning to form on her upper lip. She was sure her body would lose control, shaking, as descent of the anxiety began to sink in. She tightened her already strong grip on the marble wall, trying to steady herself before the blow reached her. Her hair was damp, sticking to her cheeks, thin, wiry black lines trying to mask her ivory skin in witchlike claws. It came closer.

She took a glimpse over the balcony, at the city below. Silence. A furtive, noxious blanket rested in the form of clouds, whispering sweet nothings of deep slumber and dreams.

Nausea crept in, churning, causing Odicia to shudder violently. She was going to be thoroughly punished this time. She knew she had done wrong, maybe not understanding the extent of just how wrong, but she had.

A strong blast of wind whipped at her face, stinging as her sweat suddenly iced dry. The air grew still as she counted the dull steps that approached from his chamber. One, Two, Three, somehow matching the steady beat of her heart. Four, Five, Six. The steps became unexpectedly louder, each thud creating a shiver along her eyelids as she waited, ferociously patient, mumbling the dawn of Celo’s prayer.

The steps had stopped. A heat reverberated off of her back. A rasp and heavy breathing brushed against the skin of her neck. She began to feel faint. She noticed her hands no longer gripped the marble wall but lay still, glowing ghostly in the moonlight.

A growing warmth met her. The heat pushed, pressing her against the wall in a ravenous thrust, the touch of his skin almost singeing her. She cried out. A cavernous laugh fell on her. She instantly stiffened, forgetting her place. A large, rough hand began to feel its way from her waist. It crept higher through the fabric of her robe. Touching its way. Invading. The other joined its brother in their pursuit. They rested on her breasts and grasped them. She gasped waiting for the pain, but surprisingly to her, none came. The hands moved again. They worked higher, resting on her neck, each finger caressing the nape. She closed her eyes. Tears rolling down her ivory cheeks, she bit her lip trying to stifle her sobbing. Hard lips began to singe her shoulder blade, bristles of hair scratching her skin. She sighed in a weak euphoria. She yearned this, to be devoured with his despicable lust and yet she knew she didn’t deserve such kindness. The lips kissed slowly to her right ear, sucking at her ear lobe. Odicia shivered; disgusted that she felt his pleasure pour into her own. The caressing fingers suddenly gripped her throat, pinching at the oesophagus. Her eyes big, she scrambled terrified. Clawing at the hand she became weak. She choked as her legs caved under her, pathetic under the strength of his hand. The night light shimmered before her. Hazy...cloudy. Her eyes fell heavy, watering furiously. The hand let go, the laughing bringing Odicia back to reality. She gulped the night air hungrily. There was a burning in her chest. After her fill she doubled over weary and confused. Was that all her punishment was to be, she thought. No, her heart whispered. She stood up with difficulty, using the wall for support yet again. She took deep breaths as she skimmed the city below, dead to the world, tears filling her eyes. Laughter rang in her ears.

“Turn to me,” he said.

Let me know what you think ^ ^

...and the ever foreboding...


Brooke Shaden.


Fine Art Photographer.
Young & extremely talented.


Born from an Amish country background and risen into creating new worlds of dramatic feminist agenda printed in breathtaking imagery.

What i love about her work is that she attempts to place herself into a world she wishes we could all live in, a kind of accidental self-portraiture, or one that we should be aware of. She captures our surroundings in a physical metaphor of what could possibly be.

Basically...right up my street...

...Fantasy. Other realm like. What my
heart dwells in.





"Within the space of a square frame, I try to build a world that is undeniably separate from
the one we live in. What fascinates me about any artistic medium is that it can pull the viewer out of a logical and common world, and place them within a space that is more alive. When I use a square frame, I hope that the viewer will forget that they are looking at a photograph and instead see an alternate reality, one that mixes painterly qualities with surrealism and fantasy."
- (from the artist herself)


Friday, 11 March 2011

...of loose looms...

I wrote another song

I am aware of what it's about but at the same, not really.
Perhaps treading carefully around a void that was or wasn't meant to be.
Maybe questioning as to whether it is a good idea to carry on something that might inevitably create carnage down the line... ohhh fiddle sticks! I'm not really one who likes to delve or question what the hell it is i am trying to get out anyway, i like the air of mystery floating about.

hmmm....



Loose Looms & Loopholes

"Threaded.
I'm your opportunist for tightening the bond.
Loose loose,
Untie me.
I've fallen out of the stitch through time,
You're better off with a new coat.

However i'd still let you wear me,
I'd warm you with touch carefully.
But what with these loopholes,
Cardigans are too thin.

Threaded.
How i adore our winter patchwork.
Loose looms,
Find me.
There's a gap here where autumn should be,
Even though the leaves fell with you.

However i'd still let you wear me,
I'd warm you with touch carefully.
But what with these loopholes,
Cardigans are too thin.

We get trapped in loose looms."




Sunday, 6 March 2011

...how i dislike the struggle...

Words...

...everywhere. Everywhere. They are what create and destruct. Pity. Writing that story...which has been edited i can tell you.

These were my last thoughts, last year, last blog entry.

Shit happened of course ..."that's life" cliche grossness and all that unspoken, but thought about quite a bit, concern. Disgusting.

Onwards and upwards i say in my medieval stammer i like to think i have at times, teehee.

YES, here i am again, new...on the mend as some would like to dramatically state.



Kimmy. Kimiko. and those bastards who are not my mother who no matter how many times i ask politely not to call me KIMBERLEY!!!

Ahhh yes, new, what is it they say...turning over a new leaf? Goodness no, i have not done "nowt" wrong, apart from maybe love food too much and think him to be the right one...this shall be rectified (Kimmy, YOUR EYES ARE TOO BIG FOR YOUR STOMACH bullshit).

But new dreams, new passions....Goodbye Mr.Reynolds and welcome singleton life again i suppose.
On the contrary i am still obsessed with Japan, Fashion & all aspects of the art world so "nowt" new there. However i have become obsessed with cooking, everything being vintage and obscure as well as a more passionate drive, more ambitious want to be successful.

So hurrah, fucking high five. The Moomin Queen is back, with a vengeance...and a disgustingly cheesy shelf devoted to my Moomin objects, laugh all you want it's bloody cute ^_^

And yet as i said last time, "I have a long way to go to conquer thisi" indeed i do....

Bring it ON EGGNOGS!


Thursday, 3 June 2010

...and struck a chord of plenty....


...Bothered...

About so many things and yet i try to battle off these worries and bound my troubles with my creativity. What an escape. Therapuetic. Slightly irresponsible, however a thrill to discover what the imagination can create in such depressing times. So i continue to write "The Perfect Doll" inspired by the imagery found on Cgunit, a delightful website of some breathtaking artwork. Beautiful artists you do shed some light of happiness on my dark dwelling. You may get an idea of the world i am trying to create with these images as well as what i have written....still alot of work needs to be put in...

*

"He awoke, restless, bothered, beads of sweat beginning to form upon his brow. The room was musky and dark; he had not been alseep for long. His eyes adjusted to the dusty gloom around him and he suddenly realised he was no longer in West Laines. No longer did he feel the cold emptiness that fell with the air. The welcoming of thunderous marching that passed beneath his open balcony windows, the Grande kazoo sounding off the pseudo noon gaurds having patrolled the under girth of District 4, the setting of the 5th moon, the luminous warrior Azgar, as the 7th honorable philosopher Lectius, rises; no more West Laines. No orange, humid dust sweeping in, irritating his eyes; he somehow missed it all and that would have to change. There was no room for worthless emotion."





*

I want this novel to disturb as well as create a world like no other. A place to lose yourself and wonder. To feel all emotion and to find new. I have a long way to go to conquer this. Hmmmm...