I had a dream, a most luscious dream. Giselle and I were at her friends house. The friend had wild fuscia and purple, frizzy hair, that pushed out from her scalp about four inches, then dropped into some length. She wore flowing layers of similar colors to her hair. She appeared to be part of the surroundings, as the art, the walls, the furniture were all about color. Not a square inch of the house was free of stuff. Collections of various artists lined table tops and bookshelves. Abstract paintings in vivid reds,blues and yellows draped the walls. The back door was open to the backyard, and I don't remember lots of windows, but her home shone in a warm light. Everything looked yummy.
There were even little plates of food in every corner. Pomegranate this and plum that, stacked on top of thin toasts, and sprinkled with cheese. The friend prepared more heaping plates of delectable treats and handed them to us to place on the table in the living room. She prepared a feast for us. I wanted to taste everything,to touch everything, to let my eyes rest on every possible corner of this scene. I felt at home.
Giselle and her friend have mastered creativity. They are in touch with their own voice and their own expression of it, then they offer it to the world. There is huge risk in the offering. What if the world doesn't accept it. But my mind couldn't even go there. As I wiped the sleepers from my eyes come morning time, I realized that I am after my own expression, and be able to offer it to the world.
This is where perhaps coming up with my own collections and photographing them might come in. Editorial work interests me, and I've studied it a bit. I've got to work on the stories behind the shots first. I'm going to go get some make up training in February. I'm inspired.