Monday, 21 July 2014

Art- My random Sketches

Sometimes you just feel like sketching something, even if you're not very good like me.
Featuring Angelina, Marilyn and Kurt.
Some of the most aesthetically pleasing people.  

Saturday, 19 July 2014

INSPIRAITON- Kyle Thomson photography

Find his work here-

Although on my blog I want to mostly show my work, whether it is through photos or words, I also want to show you people, art or work that inspires me, and Kyle Thomson's photography is all three.
You have probably already seen these incredible images floating around the internet but I wanted to share them as everyone need to see them and know about him!
Blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, his photos are breath taking in a way that you can't quite describe. You can't create any specific meaning, but you cant help but feel something when you look at them.

Thursday, 17 July 2014

WRITING- Short Story 'Untitled' Part two

Part two of the short story that I begun in my last post.

“I’m sorry Pol, it just wasn’t working.” Those were the words my father chose to explain the scene as I entered the living room. My mother was curled up on the green sofa, wrapped in a patchwork throw. Her dark curly hair had gone out of control, like she had been rubbing her head repeatedly, and her eyes were red and swollen with dark circles. He was standing, one hand leaning on the fireplace. His tie had been loosened and a few strands of hair had fallen over his forehead, escaping the usual slicked back style I had grown used to.

I didn’t know what I had expected, sitting in my bedroom a few minutes before. I had heard Violet return home from an evening out somewhere and then go into the living room. Shouting then exploded from behind the closed door, muffled, but no doubt coming from Violet. My heart started to thud, I slowly got off my bed and tried to make noiseless steps across the room, to try and get a better listen. Then the living room door was angrily wretched open, I suddenly froze, and a pair of platforms clumped up the stairs. She stormed in to our bedroom and kicked off the shoes, murmuring something like “don’t worry about me then” and threw herself on her clothes cluttered bed, facing away from me.

Anticipating she wouldn’t tell me what’s going on, I made my way downstairs. And there it was, my parents marriage crumbled in front of me on a January Sunday evening.

The silence had become unbearable, so I blurted out “wait, what? What’s he talking about?” She slowly lifted her head.

“He’s leaving.” She replied, in a quiet, dead voice. He began to pace up and down the room, removing his pale blue tie and throwing it on one of the leathers chairs.

I didn’t know what to say. I was lost standing in the living room I had grown up in, the loud crimson wallpaper being my only comfort. Everything suddenly seemed tainted now. Everything in the room was now bittersweet. The peachy china trinket box, a Christmas present from him to her, all his records on the coat rack, his huge brown oxfords I trip over everyday, why were they all staring at me?

He suddenly let out a huge sigh, and threw his head back, a universal action to show “I’m bored of this now”

The initial shock of hearing the news had now faded, and I was scrambling for something to say, to feel.

Words by Alice Beatty do not copy or steal.

Monday, 14 July 2014

Writing- Short Story 'Untitled' Part One

This story as of yet does not have a title, main plot line or date in which it will be finished. It was something I started writing when I felt like I need to write something.

We had all wanted the car for ages, my Father because everyone at the office had one, and my optimistic side thought it would be a good way to avoid the breath mint and old lady shampoo smell before school.

We had only had the car for a few months and already I was disillusioned.

Or maybe the reason why this particular journey seemed even more unbearable than usual was because I desperately wanted it to end and have the relief of stepping out on solid ground, but at the same time didn’t want to be hit by the realisation that we had arrived, announced by the inevitable “Here we are girls!”

My mother’s shrill, falsely cheerful tone would soon slice through the faint perfume-smelling aroma of our Volkswagen, and then she would turn to face the cream coloured backseats which contained her two daughters. One of which was bitterly glaring out the window, and the other running her svelte fingers through her thick hair.

My older sister, Violet, didn’t seem to resent this car as much as me. Then again, I’ve never known her to have any strong feelings about anything that didn’t involve the way she looked or which friend had called her that evening. She would never admit this of course, one of the main ingredients in the vanity cocktail is denial, but even now she was passing the time by casually glancing at herself in the rear view mirror every few minutes, then proceeding to remove the dusty pink lipstick stains from her teeth by swirling her tongue over them. Swiftly of course, as it wasn’t the most attractive manoeuvre.

I’ll always remember that shade of lipstick, and the first time I saw it on the yellowing tiled bathroom shelf. Vi had been in there for about half an hour prior to finally allowing me to brush my teeth, and there it was. Taunting me with the memories of her constantly staring at herself in any mirror she would come across, gliding colour across her perfectly curved cupids bow or brushing rouge onto her freckle-free cheeks. I was tempted to grab the thing and throw it out the window, but considering our parents had just split up I don’t think Mother would have appreciated a Violet tantrum at that moment.

That’s what they do. Things. Possessions.

They hold vivid memories, good and bad, when you got them or lost them or who gave them to you and why. Then they never cease to remind you of them every time they catch your eye. Even your sister’s cheap, rosy pink lipstick.

“Mum how much longer,” Violet suddenly exhaled, so fast all the words seem to merge together in a fed up, monotone. Maybe we did have something in common, as I averted my gaze from her to the back of my mothers head, as I also wanted to know the answer.

“Not long, it’s in the next town over,” she replied in such a sickly sweet voice it was almost sung, and she turned her head slightly to reveal a forced smile.

I’m not sure if this was a normal reaction to finding out your marriage was over, but then again I don’t know what it feels like to have a husband abandon you and your two children, so maybe this false happiness was just her way of dealing with it.

I don’t really know how I even feel about it. It was a shock of course, but then shock is a fleeting moment, over before you know it, and then you are forced to feel other emotions that actually try to deal with what you have just been told. A battle then begins in your head, whether to lash out in anger or give in and cry uncontrollably. Actually, I’m not sure if I feel like doing either of that. Maybe my repressed childhood memories had caused this significant insignificant lack of emotions. Maybe I just really didn’t care.

Word by Alice Beatty do not copy or steal without my consent.

Saturday, 12 July 2014

BOOKS- Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

One mistake I made when reading this book, I saw the film first. It turns out the film is a very accurate adaptation of the book, which while this is good, I did already know the plot and shocking truth the story contains, which probably hindered my surprise that I should of felt if I had of discovered it for the first time!
Never the less, this is a fantastic read. It centres around a group of friends, Kathy, Ruth and Tommy, and their upbringing in Hailsham, a strange place that resembles something like a boarding school. We also meet them in their young adulthood, where the truth of their lives and purposes unfold. I don't want to ruin it as it is such an amazing and original concept that you need to discover it for yourself! It makes you think and question everything about your own life and humanity in general, as you are forced to look at how we treat life, and how precious it is. Imagine if you found out your existence had been planned out from when you were born, and you had a specific purpose you had to follow. How would you react?
This is such a great book with uplifting and devastating moments that are sometimes hard to take.

Thursday, 10 July 2014

Fashion- OOTD Leaver's Prom

Thought I'd share with you today what I put together for my Leaver's prom, which signifies the end of college, finally!
I bought a LBD from H+M as it fitted so nicely and it's the sort of item I can wear time and time again, and a bonus was it was in the sale! I also threw on this gorgeous floral kimono from H+M as like most girls I'm not keen on showing my arms, and this is the perfect cover up. Of course, prom means uncomfortable footwear, and these beautiful heels are from ZARA and they're actually surprisingly easy to walk in even though after several hours I did want to rip them off. I went very simple on the accessories with a beaded bag from Accsessorize and my favourite, my vintage earrings.

Tuesday, 8 July 2014

PHOTOGRAPHY- Down on the west coast, they got a sayin'

I've always loved living by the sea, whether its the summer or winter, or whether I just want some nice photos. Its so calming to drive along watching the sun set and seeing people strolling along in their own little worlds. Have on the soundtrack Fleetwood Mac or some Lana Del Ray and you're sorted.
I love the second photo of the birds, as I nearly missed it, as it shows just how a picture can capture something that cannot be repeated.
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