Elle Kaye

01.05.13

Wed, 01 May 2013 00:07:35 +0100

12.02.13

Tue, 12 Feb 2013 14:22:37 +0000

Started to upload some of my artwork online: elleartist.wordpress.com/

26.12.12

Wed, 26 Dec 2012 20:52:10 +0000

When the day has lengthened in spite of your tired eyes, and the desire to sleep taunts you from the distance, the darkness of the night seems so inviting.

But when your eyes eventually yield to the gravitational pull, you long for the break of day.

19.09.12

Wed, 19 Sep 2012 15:17:00 +0100

Unprecedented.

Never done or known before.

Brave new world.

25.07.12

Sat, 25 Aug 2012 19:54:00 +0100

“Your eyes are amazing. You should never shut them, not even at night. You should learn to sleep with your eyes open”.”

— Unfaithful, 2002

25.07.12

Sat, 25 Aug 2012 19:51:00 +0100

Long time no type.

What was once, is no longer. What I thought I knew was a part of the greater discovery of it. I am wiser for perspective. Grateful for experience. Braver for the hurt. And sadder for the loses.

But above all, inspired.

12.07.12 (Reposted)

Thu, 12 Jul 2012 22:10:14 +0100

Crying is not responsible for reliving pain. Alternatively it seeks to orchestrate emotion. The palpitations of your heart are positioned deep within the body of the ensemble, thudding monotonously. Burdened with reluctance, it keeps rhythm to the composition. The heart string quartet are tucked in front, each string wailing it’s bittersweet symphony. With a poignancy of each note, the strings cry a strained melody. The brain resides, tired and eroding in the top section, it’s sullen sounds throb a painful percussion accompaniment. The lull of the eyelids as they bat from close to open, in a swaying chorus line, reinforcing the heavy, drawn out bass. It’s a symphony of sounds and it tastes like salt.

Crepe paper, May.

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 17:27:00 +0100

Crepe paper, May.

The essence of fragility. Twine, May.

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 17:19:00 +0100

The essence of fragility.

Twine, May.

What a beautiful advert. Luck is an attitude.

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 10:03:45 +0100

What a beautiful advert.

Luck is an attitude.

01.07.12

Tue, 19 Jun 2012 17:24:00 +0100

The pendulum shifts in a trance of monotony, the gentle click of momentary resolution, the warmth of the cradling arms of time stood still. The destructive pull of gravity, that shatters each moment of solace. Short enough to catch your breath. Just. Time moves forward, people age. Life is but a linear comprising of momentary bliss that holds your shoulders and gives you a squeeze before the push.

21.06.12

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 14:08:00 +0100

Reason is a term that refers to the capacity human beings have to establish sense, truth, justification and belief.

We are told that man is endowed with reason and is capable of distinguishing good from evil. We use reason as a premise for formulating decision, and allow our sense of reasoning to dictate direction.

When our reasoning is thoroughly considered, and effectively we weigh up the pros and cons of a situation, it can alter our initial decision. Outside influences can sway the direction in which our reasoning helps us formulate a decision. It is the conjunction of a decision maker, exhausting all the avenues of thought and irrationality. Without reason, or the sense of reasoning we are at fault of not fully understanding a situation. It is therefore always important to remain true to our sense of reasoning, in order to be true to a situation and respond to it correctly, as social standards would expect.

If we engage with our sense of the voice of reason we can never be too far from a fully comprehensive overview of a situation, and our decision is informed and wholesome rather that pithy and vague. Society, it appears, are fond of jumping on the bandwagon to dictate hatred upon a certain individual for a controversial act they may of done. There is little concept of reasoning, and this just generates discord.

I am not condemning rational thought, or dramatic, impulsive decision making, but the media demonstrates how far from normality a story can go. Take for example, the omnipresence of the McCann case, which is yet to be solved, and resurfaces as often as Christmas. In my eyes this case is no longer about the disappearance of a beautiful child, but the subjection and humiliation of her parents, and the shift of blame and ‘what if’s’. The capital surrounding this case is extortionate, and undoubtedly people have been quick to criticise the way in which this has generated. But what we are forgetting, as a result of the commercialist approach of this case, is the bottom line, the loss of an innocent child. It is this lack of reasoning that stuns me about society, who is so quick to engage with a huge case like this, for entirely the wrong set of reasons.

11.06.12

Sun, 10 Jun 2012 21:12:00 +0100

Parachutes are precautionary. They exist for emergencies, they cushion your failure. As your velocity increases, the sense of time slows down, and the dangerous reality is juxtaposed by the comfortable assertion you will survive.

Not every episode in life comes with a life jacket under your seat though.

Whether you believe in fate, inevitability, or conscious decision-making, nothing is definite, and we cannot predict our futures accurately. We can attempt to plan, to arrange and schedule events and orchestrate milestones the shape and define our lives, but there is such a fragile line between what we want, and what will be.

And that’s not to say don’t take risks, risks are healthy, they inject spontaneity and zest into our lives, where routine and monotony usually overrule. But we have to take the good with the bad, understand the concept of rise and fall, of success and failure. We have to learn to appreciate that no one has a flawless existence that runs on tram lines of success, bounty and safety. Everybody will make mistakes.

We have to be prepared to live, with caution, or without.

The Road Not Taken

Wed, 06 Jun 2012 12:23:00 +0100

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

- Thomas Frost

We all make choices.

Our options include the chosen path, and the other path. There is no right path.

We cannot predict our story. We must write it ourselves.

We diverge. A fork in the road determines a precarious attempt at pre-evaluation of what our decision will be. We try to consider whether our choice will be second-guessed in the future.

Will it resolve remorse? Will it determine regret?

It is inevitable that ‘choosing’ is partnered with a prediction that our future selves will betray this moment of decision as if the betrayal were inevitable.

“We are free to choose, but we do not really know beforehand what we are choosing between. Our route is, thus, determined by an accretion of choice and chance, and it is impossible to separate the two.”

Julio Cortázar

Sun, 03 Jun 2012 16:25:00 +0100

I touch your mouth, I touch the edge of your mouth with my finger, I am drawing it as if it were something my hand was sketching, as if for the first time your mouth opened a little, and all I have to do is close my eyes to erase it and start all over again.
You look at me, from close up you look at me, closer and closer and then we play cyclops, we look closer and closer at one another and our eyes get larger, they come closer, they merge into one and the two cyclopes look at each other, blending as they breathe, our mouths touch and struggle in gentle warmth, biting each other with their lips, barely holding their tongues on their teeth, playing in corners where a heavy air comes and goes with an old perfume and a silence. Then my hands go to sink into your hair, to cherish slowly the depth of it while we kiss as if our mouths were filled with flowers or with fish with lively movements and a dark fragrance. And if we bite each other, the pain is sweet, and if we smother each other in a brief and terrible sucking in together of our breathes, that momentary depth is beautiful. And there is but one saliva and one flavor or ripe fruit, and I feel you tremble against me like a moon on the water.

27.05.12

Sun, 03 Jun 2012 16:20:00 +0100

Sometimes skulls are thick,

Sometimes hearts are vacant.

Sometimes words don’t work.

Video

Sun, 03 Jun 2012 16:18:36 +0100

Video

Sun, 03 Jun 2012 16:17:17 +0100

This has the ability to transport you far from where you...

Mon, 28 May 2012 21:14:46 +0100

This has the ability to transport you far from where you are.

Emotive, the sting of the notes is literally penetrating.

Beautiful.

Norman Rockwell: Behind the Camera, is a book by Ron Schick (see link below), which lifts the...

Thu, 17 May 2012 19:39:00 +0100

Norman Rockwell: Behind the Camera, is a book by Ron Schick (see link below), which lifts the curtain on Rockwell’s methodology, revealing how profoundly labor-intensive and thoughtfully imagined they were.

First came brainstorming and a rough pencil sketch, then the casting of the models and the hiring of costumes and props, (for which Rockwell then orchastrated the photo shoots) then the snapping of the photo, then the composition of a fully detailed charcoal sketch, then a painted color sketch that was the exact size of the picture as it would be reproduced.

http://www.vanityfair.com/dam/culture/2009/11/norman-rockwell-0911-03.jpg

And to think I just put pencil to paper to create.

Inspiring.