red woman in her night forest

...
senses her angelic origins 

dream tags

Doll, holding myself and also the feeling of being held as a certain feeling of presence in dream.

key that invents its own lock- waking to the image of a malleable and melting key, an interpretative key that is simultaneously at the outside of the labyrinth and its very centre, de-coding/re-coding, consideration of dream interpretation as being co-creator in dialogue with its own inside. 

red woman is volcanic vase. the vessels are on the move.

choir of grief

Dream from 26/9/19
I dreamt of a choir of angels: there were three women performing my grief, singing it on a stage for all to hear. but they weren't me and I didn't recognize them. The one that seemed most distressed had a voice like Alanis Morrissette and looked a little like her too. But her voice was breaking and the faces of the audience cringed on those notes. I was audience in-so-far as i was observing the performance as dreamer dreaming its space. Like the dream was taking place in the architecture that is me. My presence felt aerial. And her singing got more and more distressed, the crescendo being the repeated line "I'd do anything for you, I'd do anything for you". Her grief welled up in us all and i woke crying as is the usual of recent, in the early hours, because i am happy when i am awake, it is like my dreaming is grieving for me, these women taking on this burden so i can be happy for a while. so they are like my angel choir.



'phantom dancer' drawing/collage from last week

me-stone

I hold myself 

Moth

or cousin Itt dancing

bird study

nested realities

the one and the many

eves contraction is a spiral staircase

the biblical myth according to eves contraction:

lunar nest

The lunar flora cannot look angelic all the time

sometimes she has a bad hair day

and the body dysmorphia of an eclipse

exorcism as pollination

or if not, a withering 'fuck me'.

flower music

(this one is Simone Weil)

moon mermaid

reading the drawing as an astrological chart:

moon egg

cosmic botany

moon plant

lion plant 

Pelican flower

the petal is the thorn is the beak...

batting stars

batting stars in the teeny weeny blue bikini sky

three barrels

Found in north shields:

curling, coiling umbilical chord:



Starry alterations:

Melusina below the bust

Following on from the previous post, a reading alongside image-making of Arcanum 17, playing with the cut and splitting. 

vertical movement of the star
at the hags table

Selfies

two dream accounts from different occasions with images I feel go towards their resolution and also elucidate certain features. Playing with self-portraiture to comprehend the cut and its splitting.



Dream from Friday 13th of September, 2019:
I remember bits but not all.
One part, my mam and her friend Tracy. I became upset because they chose to give my cat medicine, i don't quite remember, but i recall thinking it was cruel. And i was upset with my mam for not sticking up for me, and off she went with her friend. So a portion of the dream i was alone wondering, and contemplating whether i should violently express my self pity, if it were worth it, to text violence to them. And the feeling of, well what if i did? As though it were the ultimate severing. I would then be here alone. Not that the thought disturbed me, but i felt an adult sense of responsibility to consider the other. So on walking to my old family home, i was still unsure whether i would cause a scene or not, which in the end i didn't.

Next part. I am underground somewhere, like a museum but not. Water scenes. I created it and am showing a man it. Its like a pop-up book i made when young. Dark. creepy and violent. Each scene, a boat, still in water. The boat from different angles, up close in some, immersed. Covered in seaweed (i like the seaweed). One i look into and i see myself looking back at me. Like a mirror selfie. It is as if i am trying to seduce this man. Though not full heartedly. And now I'm feeling in a rush, like i want to get it over with. This performance. His interest is wavering, as is mine. And then a scene with a girl, like i am going back in my time to explain the art (a performative regression of sorts as i both seduce and explain). We are still in this environment of shipped boats, seaweed and still murky water. In a cave. Now cutting hair. Scissors. To finish this i say i will cut the girls hair, because at moments the scissors seem to float and have a life of their own. I'm a little scared though not much. I just feel it is my moment to take responsibility. And i also am at this point concerned for the girl. So i take the scissors and cut her hair nicely (i feel if i had not taken them the cutting could have became violent). At one point, before grasping them, i recall a feeling of them being taken by someone behind me, a someone who was me, but i was not ‘in the her that is me’ at that moment. And i felt the breathing behind me, cold and crisp, but i managed to take the scissors. I felt this little girl was also me, and me taking the scissors was me becoming adult through decisiveness and action. The man ceased to exist at this point. And i looked at the girl.

Friday august 23rd 2019.
I dreamt last night of journeying through an expanse that lacked coordinates in the usual sense, or more so, the coordinates were doubled (two contrasting maps that referred to the same territory). Standing still, i could make out areas ahead of me, around me, where i wanted to travel to, seemingly as simple as walking forward. But before i could make even one step in the intended direction, i had to ‘go under’ to see how infact one got there, because i could not just walk to it, it was like i had to get to it with my eyes closed, or other eyes, jarring, like having to put on some vision altering spectacles before the body would be permitted to move, to ‘get to’. ’going under’ like being partially submerged in water, head above sea level saying ‘well now that is where i want to be, and then having to dunk my eyes into the water to try and ascertain how exactly i would get my submerged half there with me, congruently, given the under water had varying obstacles. But it was not at all like the difference between subterranean and terrestrial in the dream, that is, it was not water. The two visions had to be perennially negotiated if i wanted to move, the sensation was odd as i was neither wholly in one or the other. flitting between the two, neither felt ‘real’ in the sense of total, and infact it made my body itself feel like the only territory.

riding myself

nudes and sexting

I dont think its going to stop
Stop what? the body. My body wont stop.
Stop what? Not what, IT.
It sedates my stories and keeps going.
Pressing on and on pressing.
Mouth is still buzzing something.
...Maybe sounds of speculation
are going to just be saliva soon?
Jusssssssst a wet mouth.

This morning it woke before i did.
What did? Just the reddish pink.
‘The mouth is scantily clad in reddish pink, aftertaste.’
Delimiting my lines before i even got a chance to…
Chance to what? Stop, stop it and lick breathe into sync.

The gasp that keeps dropping and rounding out a basin with all of that one directional weight.
Id press myself against you right now.
From both directions, from inside and outside all at once.
Mouth speaks just a drunken story here, repeat, just sounds that slightly vibrate.
Humming the drop
The concave touch point
Lean in on me
Lean into fever
And a slathering palette.
Give me tongue. 

lordosis

Warring Sucklings

Münchausen Syndrome by Proxy

black tree

night squid

dog at beach

light-house

sea ejaculates sky

sea heart

red lion (benidorm)

tiger expansion

boats

antares