.art inspiration (Christina Koutsospyrou)

Another deep dig through my inspiration folders only to find another fashion illustrator whose line and colour make me happy . Christina Koutsospyrou is a London based illustrator and her line detail is wonderful. It's delicate, sharp and very dramatic. I also love how her use of colour is very subtle, she doesn't feel the need to over power her lines and I like that she doesn't douse her pages in loads of colour.

Sometimes drawings don't need any of those heavy shadows. I tend to forget how wonderful simple line is.

❤

.sunday morning rain is falling.

Sundays are created to spend the entire day in an unmade bed. They are made to watch movies all day and eat meals in front of the television.

Sundays are made to forget about work and spend time with a little monster. They make us feel lazy, lethargic, and rested. They allow us to drift off, unwind, and relax in a dreamy slumber.

They exist so you can do these things and not feel guilty.

It’s been ages since a Sunday like this has come my way. I just wish there were three of us in our bed and not just two.

.fashion and art.

a heels and converse type of girl




sketch by: Lovisa Burfitt

.good things come to an end…. till it comes around again .

I know I’ve written about this wonderful woman before.

But I found that I have never written about my Unravelling journey.

This journey was one where words cannot possibly be enough to fully describe the unimaginable creative and personal growth I experienced. What seemed like a long eight week journey ended quickly, but throughout this time I have learned that there is more to life that just regrets, negativity, and that I can let go of that constant resistance to be who I am. I can let go of the remnants of the past that cloud my soul and I can embrace my creativity. I can believe that I am the artist I want to be and that I am.

I have ‘met’ and connected with so many wonderful people through this course, and I have yet to meet them in person. But we shared the same journey, and this…. this is what made the journey so much more enjoyable. A wonderful tribe of women have entered my life unexpectedly and I could have not have asked for anything else. So as much as I have thanked them, I will do so forever.

Oh, I can’t wait till September. Unravelling II, I will try and be patient waiting for you to come around.

.shabby chic and white obsessed.

There’s something about this style that speaks of romance. People may think it looks messy but once mixed in with a variety of elements, this is a look that can work wonders in a home. It oozes comfort and coziness.
Love, LOVE, LOVE! ❤

Photos courtesy of Desire to Inspire;  Living Etc; Solid Frog;

.sketched.

complete and utter love for this man’s art.

.the vintage suitcase.

Everywhere I went in Hong Kong, they were there.
I have been obsessed with these for ages and I think it was a sign. A sign for me to go on a mad search for beautiful, worn, vintage suitcases like these. They are wonderful and I would never use them.

 They would just sit in my house for me to look at. Its tattered leather would whisper its stories for me to only imagine where it had been, what countries it had travelled to and what it had seen. Shabby chic, beautifully worn-out suitcases. I want you.

.hong kong chronicles.

Loud, colourful, crazy. These are Hong Kong streets. I loved it.
Maneuvering through these streets with a pram was difficult, but we made it through. Travelling with a little one proved to be challenging, but he was a trooper. The people overwhelmed him as it did me and we often needed a breather. Hong Kong moves so fast and for a moment,  while standing on the train, I closed my eyes and felt like I could have been back in London. Sometimes I forget how fast the world moves. Manila easily makes you forget the fast-paced lifestyle.
I just wish I could have had more time behind my lens. I didn’t take as many photos as I would have liked,  but the since the ‘mini-holiday’ was for him, I knew I couldn’t.
There’s always next time….

.how do I love thee .

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

.life drawing for rusty beginners.

I remember how my fingers flowed with willow charcoal sticks. My hands took me through journeys on paper. Ten weeks straight of pure life drawing. I sat in my “life drawing for rusty beginners for ten whole weeks, ten weeks immersed in studying this bodies.  I remember sitting impatiently for the work day to end so I could rush to my evening classes. I remember feeling so free.
I am still on a desperate search of life drawing classes. I wish I knew more about the art scene here and I wish it was as easy as it was in London. Sometimes I feel like my need to be part of an “art community” is superficial. Why do I need this to be the artist I want to be?  And why am I trying to justify the fact that in order to be an artist I must be “in the scene”?  You see, I live for inspiration. Inspiration allows me to create and other artists who surround me allow me to grasp and soak in the inspiration. But perhaps I must first learn that inspiration can come from within, and I myself can be my own inspiration.

.love poem.

my mind is a big chunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and taste and smell
and hearing and sight keep hitting and chipping with sharp fatal tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of chrome
and execute strides of cobalt
nevertheless i feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am becoming
something a little different, in fact myself
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet bellowings.

— my mind is… (XXV) by E. E. Cummings

.blackbird.

.... Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life you've always waited for this moment to arrive

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life, you've always waited for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly
Blackbird fly
Into the light of a new dark night

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life you've always waited for this moment to arrive

Blackbird fly
Blackbird fly
Into the light of a new dark night

.letting go.

Her words are so true. Susannah Conway  says a lot of words that mean more to me than a lot of people would understand. She has taught me a lot of things, I never imagined one woman’s encouragement could be as powerful as they are. Somehow she has come into my life and I could not be more grateful that I already am.


"It’s letting go of expectation.
 Letting go of fear.
 Letting go of doubt.
 Letting go of the hurts.
 Letting go of the disappointments.
 Letting go of the needs.
 Letting go of the stories.
 Letting go of the untruths.
 Letting go of that time you did that thing you shouldn’t have done.
 Letting go of feeling foolish, knowing you were just young. Unformed. Learning. Trying.
 Letting go of the need to be perfect. Correct. Proper.
 Letting go of what’s expected of you, even if they’re your own expectations. Especially then.
 Letting go of the voice in your head that tells you you are shit.
 Letting go of the hatred of your skin. It’s just flesh. Just bones. Just your transportation on earth.
 Letting go of the need to control what happens.
 Letting go of feeling bad because you’re not letting go enough.

 I’m starting to get it now. I really am."

.sketchbook diaries (moleskin edition).

Stephanie Brown on Flickr. Love her weird sketches, red faces, typography, and her delicate black and red pen lines.
This is pure Moleskin envy.
Makes me want to head straight out to the bookstore and purchase this extremely expensive sketchbook. But I won’t…. yet.