If only i could...

 afford Visionaire's Alexander McQueen edition.
I'm a sucker for poetic touches and this one wrenches the heart like no other.
Images inspired by McQueen that, when planted and nourished turn into a bed of wildflowers... The idea itself is just incredible (Personally, I would wish for a flowering tree  - not for a long long long time please, but anyway...) and a poignant reminder that death begets life, life begets death and so the cycle continues, the living a memorial to those who lived.

From QS

Postcards from Paris - Lacroix

Christian Lacroix, known for his deliciously extravagant haute-couture ladies wear - dripping with embroidery and lace, is also a highly regarded illustrator.
What excites me is the way that he uses modern technology to a traditional effect, as seen in these postcards picked up at the Lacroix exhibition at the Musée de la Mode et du Textile in 2008. Using a program such as illustrator or photoshop he has 'painted' these figures in a freehand style that one might ordinarily create manually with ink pen and watercolour. The lively, loose illustrations go against the grain of regular digital illustration as they do not aspire to perfection or tidiness, but take advantage of the crazy  unpredictability of mouse and digital brushes.

Postcards purchased at the Musée des Arts Decoratifs in Paris.
Want more? Check out the book cover for the Christian Lacroix tome @ Polyvore
and for a little bit more info on designers' personal sketches - this article @ nymag.com

looooove

Organise

 This is what I did today:

Reorganise my past, filing trips, memories, tickets, postcards and assorted scraps according to place and date.

I think this may mean a new start for my blog. I was starting to find the way in which I was blogging to be unnatural and tedious. So here's to a new start - curiosities from everyday life. 

#1. 

From my time in Strasbourg, the 'centre of Europe' and stronghold of the EU parliament,  a town which for me is filled with brilliant sunlit memories which seeps through every crack and corner of my mind. 

From the Musée d'Art Moderne et Contemporain - for their Art is Arp exhibition (dedicated to one of the most renown dada families  - the Arp family). 

This delightful poem, printed on the back of the brochure is at first apparently simple, then amusing, confusing and whimsical... it is also beautifully clean and clear in design. 

Configuration Strasbourgeoise

je suis né dans la nature.

je suis né à strasbourg.

je suis né dans un nuage.

je suis né dans une pompe.

je suis né dans une robe. 

j'ai quatre natures.

ja'i deux choses.

j'ai cing sens. 

sens et non-sens. 

nature est sans-sens. 

place à la nature. 

la nature est un aigle blanc. 

place dada à la nature dada.

je me modèle un livre à cinq boutons. 

le tour de force du sculpteur est une sombre bêtise.

extrait 1931

My translation : 

Strasbourg Configuration

I was born in nature.

I was born in a cloud.

I was born in a pump.

i was born in a dress.

i have four natures.

I have two things.

sense and non-sense

nature is without sense.

space to nature.

Nature is a white eagle.

dada place to dada nature.

i mould myself a book with five buds (my note: could also be buttons).

the tour de force of a sculptor is a sombre foolishness.

Instrumental

 Opinions are divided. Many would say that fashion designers and fashion students do not work, AT ALL, many would say that we work our behinds off. My personal experience  - which is informed by my 'work' ethic, tells me that I do both. The 'Break' I am now on, is precisely that. A time to o work and not to work - it is a time to relax, recharge, to find inspiration and motivation and to get started on a major project that will dominate my physicality and mental state for the next few months. My time is now split between doing errands - which I do not enjoy, and designing - which I do.

As a dreamer, I enjoy taking flights of fancy, putting my imagination onto paper and cloth, letting my hand act as a medium for my subconscious. Images captivate my attention on the verge of sleep and force me to emerge from my downy refuge to lean on the cold wooden bedside table where my notepad rests. I wake up in the morning, my mind still heavy with sleep and try to make sense of the boggled scribbles i had previously made, i take delight in unravelling the confusion. On the other hand I do not find the realisation of these dreams to be an enjoyable process, especially when my limited skills and patience cannot help me physically conjure up the sparkling phantom images in my mind.  But sometimes I come across something that seems to express exactly what i am thinking...

Underwater scene with the Cristal Bachet, Glass Harmonica, Ondes Martenot.