Let me paint a picture - Fine Art

Once upon a time, there was a girl,

Like all fairy stories I guess the tail begins with a girl. This story is the beginning of an understanding about myself, a look into behind the scene's of the person I seem to have found myself reviewing.. A happy accident it is not, I do wish that happy was what I found myself reviewing or for a better word reliving tonight. let me paint the picture for you.

Scene 1

So it all began a couple of days ago when I was getting ready. My daughter and I had spent a lovely day shopping at the weekend taking in the city and the world of the beauty dept stores. As fashion trends go, contouring and eye brows are big business these days. Once home the next day my daughter had asked to show me how contouring worked and I had hastily agreed. Bringing all her make-up down and pouring it over my bed, we laughed, made faces and had some happy moments.  I was actually surprised at how much of an illusion the make up gave, anyway....

Scene 2

(dark night bedroom scene) she woke to the cries of her son, going through to comfort him from his nightmare and ssh him back off to sleep, she returned back to her bedroom quietly knowing her mother was in her bed staying the night. She had earlier that day invited her mother to stay because she was in-between moving home and had thought that it be easier and kinda for her to have a comfy bed......"let me up for the toilet before you get back in"said the mother. Upon climbing back into bed she lashed out in disgust at finding something in the bed...snarling she said " the back off an earring" glaring at her daughter, she uttered the words its bloody disgusting! she looked at her findings and  the vulgarness came in way of  a fast sharp glare.

Shot down the girl, uttered it was probably from the daughter's make-up bag two days before. She had said that to combat a reaction a defence maybe but who cares as she lay in bed she began to feel saddness building up. She remembered the happy time her daughter and her had days before and then appeared the look again.  The evil look and glare kept entering her mind.. Taking with it any warmth. 

Scene 3

(silent thinking in the darkness) 

Thinking back to that days events, as the girl lay there she remembered the painting and drawing of feelings she had been doing at school that very day. Love, anger, excitement etc....If she could do them again now I wonder if they'd be the same marks made........Being shot down and angrily glared at gave her emotion.. The same feelings in class so surely the feelings of fear or anger would always play out the same way! Only this time it was now, breathing alive...smouldering away and it set off a chain of events in her mind. Why?

She thought she'd have to test the theory out again at school, only this time remembering events in they true form. What makes her feel so unworthy that sends her back into her self like a bad little girl.

Scene 4

(remembering childhood)

So it has to start somewhere, but when and how did this develop. Was I naughty?

Still laying thinking she recalls events of fear from the past. Many things surface and as tears fill up her eyes, she begins to tap into the darkness........ She would love to paint a surrealist hell, were the stories play out (she knows she could never do them justice tho) 

The  friend across the road - she looked like she needed a hair brush to be honest, messy hair, no shoes on and from memory of a 4 -5 years old a bit grubby. We played right outside our front doors on the patch of grass we called the green. We played or something it wasn't for long. Her dad had noticed and came out demanding her back in.... I remember the fear in her face, I think I remember knowing that tone also. The kind you wanna run from but it pins you down....panic..tense both our heads were down..we'd done wrong maybe but it was fun even then a connection was made..we were friends..Heads down I can kind of remember her feet. They were black, dirty. But what I do remember as we  lowered our heads in fear was thinking why did she have burned cigarette marks on them and her arms come to think of it? Her neck was marked too. As an adult I think they were bites like love bites. My heart aches for her as an adult but I think I sensed something then to. We used to smile at each other after that day when I was out playing.

or

I wish I was dead........... I remember shouting that at my dad once..... he chased me up the stairs! I ran as fast as my little legs could go because what had started out as quick word backlash then began as a slow pace oh shit moment that turned into a fight for survival.  I wet myself as he caught up with me.....I can't remember the rest.... but to fear enough to wet yourself must be real fear right? I wonder what mark (apart from a puddle) that would leave on paper.....

Trixie - the little yorkshire terrier, I think it maybe was my aunts dog then, but afterwards when to an older couple up the street. I remember they were kind. Me and my cousin stayed the night there one night and in the morning we ate porridge... It was thick and I think I didnt like it much.... Anyway Trixie had a longer tail because it hadn't been cut... The horror of what happened to her when for whatever reason Cammy brought her back haunts me still. She came in our house tail wagging happily but yelping.....I ran upstairs in tears and in fear as my young self didn't know exactly what had happened. It wasn't until the screams of the women told me it wasn't good. As I sat looking down through the banister I could see the dog running around blood splashing with the shake of its tail...tears a lot of tears I cried that day. I remember Cammy (don't think that was his name but he was a bastard, one of my dads friends so it says everything) shouting "well she looked stupid with a longer tail."....I think they told me she had jammed it in the door....bullshit!! Children have ears and guys like Cammy like to talk...

I remember sadness to, real heartache. My friend Andrew Sutcliffe dying after playing chicken on the main road. I remember he'd been playing with the bad boy who would always get into trouble. He was a bad boy him. I do think my little heart broke a bit that day and the days to follow.

So what now,  What do I do to rid myself of these memories and how can I use them for my work.

My mother - if I could paint a painting of that belittling glare,  I'd probably end up burning it afterwards so she can't infect anyone else. Or play it back to her! I don't really know what to say regarding that! Truth is I wasn't a bad kid and I ain't a bad kid now. I'm a good person and that won't change. But life is a stage they say. What goes on behind the scenes shouldn't be overlooked.

I have many stories, stories of being belittled, shot down... am sure we all have if we choose to remember them. In the grand scale of things I don't think I had it too bad growing up.. if you think of my friend I talked about etc or even just pick up a newspaper today! While I may not remember many happy memories from my past I can change how I view the world and how its
 written.  It started with me and it can only end with me... It is after all my life, my stage! (How I treat my children will also be reviewed upon this. I think if anything I'm to bloody soft!)

Scene 5

She passes her exams after all this heaviness and goes on to become more than she even thought possible.

Living within herself happily ever after....( prince charming wouldn't go a miss either.)

THE END

I'M ALSO PLANNING TO LOOK INTO OTHER ARTIST'S THAT HAVE USED EXPRESSIVE WORDS TO CREATE THE TRUE NATURE OF A SCENE.