Shady Lady

He watched her, that incredibly annoying – yet deliciously done-up (he’d like to be the one to unbutton her, he would) – lady detective as she moved stealthily through the shadows. He just couldn’t seem to shake her trail. Or, he thought as he glared at her pausing to listen in the passage, maybe she’d figured out more than he’d bargained for? And how in damnation did she move so silently across the stones in those dangerous high heels? 

From the top of her head (on which a fetching French blue vintage 1940s hat perched), on down her cute little tweed jacket, past that slinky caramel leather pencil skirt and the sexy fishnet stockings, to the tip of her black suede pumps, she was a piece of perfection. (Never mind her piquant little face, with the big eyes that caught too much, and kissable lips that asked too many pointed questions.) 

And then he saw something else that made him draw a sharp breath – something else far more dangerous than those curves. It instantly made him wriggle further back into the niche, behind a colossal statue of St George defeating a dragon or something or other. Peripherally he noticed she was wearing pretty sky-blue vintage gloves (he was an observant man, and he liked to keep abreast of ladies’ fashions), and clasped in an ominously determined-looking grip was—a Colt .38 revolver! And, he suspected grimly, she was fully prepared to use it on him ...

~

Many thanks to my friend Sapphire for yet another guest appearance on SNAP. See Sebastien Hart’s last collaboration with her here.

Bird of Prey

Out of the murky dark
flies the bird of prey
black wings swooping—hark!
Do you hear its fearsome cry?

It turns on feathered pinion
soaring high, gliding low
surveying its dominion
and giving voice to woe.

While you are sleeping
its claws are ever reaching
so pray for angels’ keeping
lest death you will be reaping.

~

Watch out for those ghosts and ghoulies on this night of frights! And birds of prey of course. Or, perhaps more aptly, watch out for stomachaches from too much candy.

I had such fun creating this picture. It was not originally intended for a Halloween story at all however. While looking through my suitcase of props, on a whim I pulled a golden mask out to play with. Highly reflective and with such flat planes, it was quite menacing on, I realised – especially with such narrow slits for eyes that accentuate the whites. And so the idea of the Bird of Prey was hatched.

A pair of black wings and my amazingly versatile (who’d have thought?) vintage 80s gold foil rah-rah skirt complete the costume. The tiers flap up and down in the most fearsome way too, though the most important aspect of my bird of prey is physicality. Leaning into the camera, hunching the shoulders and crooking fingers to resemble grasping talons help create a sinister mood.

In the end it was quite difficult to choose my favourite scary picture, so check out the Out-takes & Extras gallery for more.

Have fun on your Hallowed Eve!

Bird of Paradise

Like a magpie, I am always attracted to shiny, pretty things. Anything beaded and embroidered catches my eye and begs to be touched, and so I particularly love the Indian decorative arts: textiles, jewellery, and miniature paintings.

One must admire the artisans for their skill and patience in the care taken over so much intricate detail. There is so much joie de vivre in these colourful works of art – the visual equivalent of Bollywood films. The landscapes are perfect little jewels of Arcadia: the sun shines gently, the breezes murmur softly through the ladies’ saris, and birds sing sweetly in the lush background.

Although these days I lean more and more towards minimalist fashion, I still cannot resist adding to my collection of sparkly vintage trifles here and there, particularly when I am travelling in exotic countries. They might come out on a special occasion to add pizzazz to an otherwise simple or graphic silhouette.

To create this picture, inspired by Indian miniature paintings, I’ve gathered together an Indian embroidered tunic and skirt (both purchased in charity stores), a silk scarf, a vintage embroidered and beaded belt, new and vintage necklaces, earrings from a local Indian fashion boutique, and beaded slippers, souvenirs from Vietnam.

It was Diana Vreeland who declared in 1962, ‘pink is the navy blue of India’, making the pink silk scarf an apt choice. I do love Indian jewellery too; the jingles only add an extra element of fun, and it is one of the few styles in which I like yellow gold.

~

The cloudy background is of a wall I photographed in Tangier, Morocco, and the lawn a picture I took recently in Melbourne’s own Royal Botanic Gardens. The bird in hand comes from here. The dried flower is a Billy Button or Craspedia, a member of the daisy family and native to Australia and New Zealand. 

The Revenge of the Anime Girls

While Japanese anime is much admired and has achieved world renown, the costumes worn by the colourful female characters have always struck me as rather ridiculous. Ditto the very dubious angles they are often drawn in. These scantily-clad, big-eyed and candy-haired girls are obviously the product of teenage male fantasies gone rampant. Are there, I wonder, any sophisticated chaps or classy ladies drawing anime girls in designer duds?

Here is my comic homage: I imagined these girls less sweet and more sassy, coming to life and putting the hard word on their creator. Because even cartoon girls like to go shopping.

Many thanks to my sister avenger, Sapphire, with whom I have collaborated often, and to my hapless but helpful male model artist, Montgomery. 

The Delights of Spring

    Spring

O spring! what happiness you bring!
Cherry blossom is in bloom
The skies are clear blue forever,
Sunshine warms my lifted cheek
And o, my thrilling heart will sing.
Balmy nights are stirred by breezes soft
Stars, it seems, twinkle brighter,
Early birds waking, chirp as though
Their hearts with joy are breaking
And o—! my spirit soars aloft.

Is there any more thrilling turn of the seasons than spring? Just when everyone has had enough of winter, spring comes along to save the day. Who could fail to be happy when miserable, dripping grey skies are swept away by clear blue?

I have always had a sneaking liking for Fragonard’s Rococo painting The Swing. As an art student you’re not supposed to like it because it’s pretty and frivolous and all that, but I did anyway. It is the perfect expression of such a delightful season, don’t you think?

The Swing, Jean Honoré Fragonard, 1767I had always wanted to create a picture in homage, but was flummoxed by the mad pink dress Fragonard’s model is sporting. Of course, I do work at a theatre, but it feels like cheating to borrow from the wardrobe department.

Then some 1940s lingerie swept into my life. This peachy-pink floor length nightgown and matching ruffled robe (six tiers of ruffles, count ‘em!) printed with posies of roses all over are so extravagant, so grand, they are jaw-dropping. Irresistible. Stupendous. You get the picture … Where and when on earth am I going to wear them? Pffffft. That’s not the point!

time constraints precluded my coaxing a hapless lover to look up my skirts …

Nor do I have access to a swing in a rural and idyllic setting, and time constraints precluded my coaxing a hapless lover to look up my skirts and minion to push the swing, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me either. A large specimen of a ficus macrophylla (Moreton bay fig) tree in the Royal Botanic Gardens (my backyard) would do for a setting. A statue of Diana from the Parc de La Tamarita in Barcelona, and a cupid from my sister Star’s garden add the picturesque.

And the pièce de résistance, the dainty slipper flying provocatively in the air? A little beaded souvenir from Vietnam. (And oh, the poem is by me.)

Enjoy the sunshine!