preparing for the great weekend bamboo party

This may seem a cryptic collection of images, but I am being coy on purpose - I want it to be a surprise; It's all sketches and preparation for my space-maker for Mistress Axolotl's Imaginary Tattoo Parlour: a bamboo screen. The bamboo arrived yesterday, it's dyed really dark brown and it's so gorgeous and lightweight and makes a pleasing sound when you tap it. I'm gonna get down to some serious bamboo work in the studio on the weekend. Can't wait.

Dark flicks as do dance from the eyes of ruthless queens, serve the determined girl with a certain command and self-belief.

Sparkling metal globes hang from her ears, depicting the poetry of a man who never stopped and understood the need to run, but also the quiet obligation to return.

Jazzy magic powers for performance spring from two round gems beneath her eyes, on painted blue cheeks.

Blue is her colour.

Blue and orange.

Then she has her denim vest. It is sleeveless so as to free her weighted shoulders, and well fitted so she always knows she is a girl. Sometimes this is a reassuring thing in itself. Initially she stencilled environmental slogans on the back of her denim, to try and impair the carelessness of the local council. Now it bears the stitched name of her tattoo parlour; Her desired character - to remind her that her work is not done.

Honey put on your red dress, and your diamond soled shoes.

Climb on outta your window, climb on outta your room.

And i've been spending time, as usual, as Lone Cowgirl...

She sat with her back to the encroaching dusk and placed her white leather to one side. The great straw sun was flinging its low, early autumn light across the crop fields. A sheet grey cloud followed it down; intimidating in it's purpose but comforting; as if she could reach her static hands into its gently swirling body and feel fresh, lukewarm droplets of precipitation enliven her hesitant fingers, and get under the filthy nails and wash them clean. With every passing thought of hers, the grey grew greyer and the night drew closer. A few gnarled sparked trees stood silhouetted, magnifying the last of the day’s rays. The scene appeared as a cross section of an R.B.Kitaj painting, as if coloured partially by nature, and partially by tears of his malcontent, from his sad large eyes. 

She did feel his malaise; a certain trepidation, perhaps induced by the dulling effect of alcoholic nights and too little exercise. What worried her most was the possible inexistence of all the worlds and provinces she imagined, and that others had imagined which her imagination has entered so readily into.

It was Open Studios last weekend as part of Art Licks, and we had a good time welcoming everyone and seeing other people in the area's studios. I love the work of South London Saddles who I share a corridor with. Look her up - beautiful! And... by sweet coincidence, she is from the same weeny hillside town where I went to school!

Here's some photos of my newly tidied studio space for the event. I sold three pieces of clothing from my SWAG line ;) May pay for my tattoo.

Guiding ladies

And in the spirit of Patti Smith's M Train, I will inform you of a dream I had. The book came out two days ago, but as Mama works in an indie bookshop, I had the giant smug privilege of reading the uncorrected publishes proof two months ago and been bursting to talk about it since. So i've been ruminating for weeks on coffee, travel, Mexico, sleeping in Diego Rivera's bed, cafes and going to Tangier, cradling my copy of the book. I'm going to her book tour at the end of this month; cannot wait! It's so informative of what i'm doing with Mistress Axolotl, and Lone Cowgirl. Even Patti's imaginary dream spirit guide is a Cowboy too! Anyway, here's my dream: 
...The other night I dreamt of a big, pink, fading magnolia tree growing out of an old glasshouse that looked like Le Louvre, it was smashing it as it wilted. Turns out, it was an outpost of Mount Fuji?

Then last night, I dreamt that my old school handed me a beautiful record sleeve, and offered to take me on a trip to visit a recording studio in Fresno, California. But I realised I didn't want to go because Fresno has a high rate of addiction to crystal meth, and this trip might be a ploy to get money out of me for the school.