Tuesday, 16 August 2016

I HOPE NORMAL SATISFIES YOUR SOUL: A LETTER FROM THAT EX YOU DATED ONCE WITH THE SPECIAL NEEDS KID

I hope normal satisfies your soul....

the path of least resistance the unchallenged road, the easy shag, the shallow conversation, the undisturbed night of 8 hours sleep and the soft bed of a routine you can cope with, in the boat not rocking as the water it rots in turns stagnant....like your heart......still waters and nothing lurking in the deep, an easy mooring for the coward that lives inside of you, hidden not too far from the surface.

I hope you like it all... with blinkers on and doors shut tight, curtains drawn and no air to even scream out the words that will stick in your gut.

But when you turn to search for me and wonder why the light shines so fucking bright it hurts your eyes till you have to turn away and you try to remember the laughter and the times you said I filled your soul and made you feel so alive, when you try so so hard to feel it again.... alive like running hard till you cant breath in the rain..... and yet you can't....don't stop and wonder why! When it feels darker and smaller and quieter and you wish that the peace didn't always have to feel quite so deep and dull ....don't question it! It's what makes you tick, what you want.....remember!

You looked me in the face and talked about MY LIFE...the fire that nearly rippled your flesh, you tried to justify your right to chose by dismissing my future and wiping away my hope but it is only your courage here that is lacking not my hope, and as your lame soliloquies of I REALLY LOVE YOU BUT delivered with pitying eyes and the bent head of resignation reign down I wonder why this is even about me at all!  Don't address me as a victim, the person YOU WILL NEVER REPLACE OR GET OVER but still a victim nonetheless in a game I have somehow played and lost without even knowing! I did not win because you came and I do not lose because you leave!

So don't fill my precious air with your whispers of relief...filtering MY AIR through your small tales of choice and the rights to an easy life...the same air I use to laugh and scream and rant and praise and moan and cry and rejoice and live...don't go sucking in MY AIR to breath out tiny tiny words relegating MY FUCKING AWESOME LIFE to the rubble of a pity party flung by the small minded. Don't use MY AIR to fuel your whispers to future lovers intended to write me off as the close-call you survived...wrap up your whispers, take them home to your beige house with the dried flowers and miniature ornamental wicker hats and keep them safe, for these whispers are not meant for a woman who has already learnt to dance inside her own flames.

So yes leave, in fact run because you are so right... this is all too big for you and I need my own air for my living! Take your platitudes too overused and your ego too big and your heart too small and your love not ever quite enough and wrap them up if you must as trophies of a life you nearly suffered and let's raise a toast...three cheers for the people who run fast enough to not get burned....the people so busy looking back in relief they don't even notice they are running towards their own flames up ahead.....oh and fuck you!

And I know you think you have escaped the awful challenges I wrought over your calm and that you are now choosing a land where you have put all the unpleasant surprises to bed. A land in which you have the ruling hand in your choices, a firm control over your destiny....can you hear me laugh so hard I start to choke because there is no other land you dumb-ass shit! You haven't escaped anywhere, we are still all here together in this big mess we call life.  There is no control!  Did you really buy into that... have you really made it this far and not learnt already that the unpleasant surprises never sleep they lurk no matter what you do.

You haven't chosen easier or discovered a way to cheat the shadows or found some way to control fate you just opted out of the light and being in the middle of this whole fucking wondrous messy thing we call life and living and fucking and laughing and crying and being screwed up and getting over it and dancing in your pants and not giving a shit about normal cause normal is a myth clung to by the people scared to death of the time when the unpleasant surprises strike.

So yes.....I hope normal satisfies your soul......and I hope it doesn't hurt too much when it kicks you in the ass and yells SURPRISE!

Love always
The woman dancing in fire!



Friday, 24 June 2016

City Of Colours Street Art Festival 2016

Birmingham played host to the City Of Colours street art festival. It was wonderful and saw the kids racing around Digbeth, talking to artists and being very excited by the vibrancy of the art before them. Thank you to all involved for bringing some stunning street art into the city. Now I have at least one child desperate for their hands to grow big enough to hold a spray can of paint!































Tuesday, 21 June 2016

New Artwork: Listening To The Voices In Your Heads


Exploring the imagery that refuses to leave a mind and listening to the repetitive whispers passed between the invisible people of our soul presents quite a show for those brave enough to watch! It's always an exploration into truth when we take heed of the internal conversations and pictures we hold within ourselves. But how often are we brave enough to become our own audience? Do we watch and listen enough or are the voices muted, the ride derailed, curtain down?

Listening To The Voices In Your Heads is the first of a new series of large scale ( 4ft plus) mixed media drawings on board exploring the internal show we all possess. Within this work, scale, technique and subject matter combine in equal importance.

Listening To The Voices In Your Heads
mixed-media drawing on textured board











Monday, 9 May 2016

Break the Circle

New work taking my focus in the studio at the moment. Cutting and sewing canvas whilst exploring the messages contained within the circles we live by and break away from.








Friday, 29 April 2016

Entering The Woods With The Dolls

Sharing the doll series here from time to time as I revisit them and write their story!

Here are the next few.



Doll 4: She Was Found In A Bed of Her Own Making
Mixed-media drawing and collage on paper
Size 17.5 x 24 cm




Doll 5: Into The Woods
Mixed-media drawing and collage on paper
Size 17.5 x 24 cm





Doll 6: The Perils of Leaving the Path
Mixed-media drawing and collage on paper
Size 17.5 x 24 cm


Thursday, 28 April 2016

New Poetry: IN THE BEGINNING CAME NUMBERS



100 Dolls and Me began as a series of daily drawings in late 2013. It was originally to be a year long project but then life imploded and all drawing stopped for quite some time leaving the dolls abandoned!  Yesterday I opened the box on these dolls once more and sat down with them like old friends long-missed. With pen in hand I began to chart the thought processes their creation had led me through, each doll in turn unearthing memories of the steps along the path we had walked together! I wanted to record what I remembered from our travels for it had been quite some journey, the type of journey that shouldn't become forgotten with time! So I started at the beginning with the first two dolls drawn in rage.....here is their poem!


                                                                       
        Doll 1: Make Me Yours!                                          Doll 2: Measure Up Bitch! 
      mixed -media drawing on paper.                                                           mixed -media drawing on paper.
            size 17.5 x 24cm                                                                                        size 17.5 x 24cm     
            

                                                                                                                                                                                        


In The Beginning Came Numbers
for dolls 1 and 2 with my love
by Candy Morrigan

The tyranny of numbers came
To steal your brave and grow your lame
Heed this the journey of the paper doll
Pick up the scissors and off we go!

It begins early on when days were free
The bouncing babe upon the knee
Yes even then they crawl on in
To make you sickened by your skin
Monsters in closets paw a dress that was made
especially bigger....your mother paid!
These memories lay you down to take the bruising
As in they come, those numbers cruising
Too old or young, short, fat, thin, tall
Dictated to... and so the fall
begins to cripple the open-hearted
The point that self-esteem departed.

The tyranny of numbers came
To steal your brave and grow your lame
Heed this the journey of the paper doll
Pick up the scissors and off we go!

Accusations crumple the kindly soul
Stop Being Wrong the saddest goal
Not aimed for by the hard-shell-crew
But an addictive target for a sensitive few
And worse, it opens doors for black-winged sprites
To do their evil and wrap your days with nights.
Because now YOU can shape me with just one look
Cut and make me from your book
My own tale blank, just empty pages
Please cut and tear as mute voice rages
I'm your paper doll...along this line fold
Because numbers gave you my power to hold.

The tyranny of numbers came
To steal your brave and grow your lame
Heed this the journey of the paper doll
Pick up the scissors and off we go!

Welcome the folds that cruel hands deliver
Be grateful, because you deserve not a flicker
Dress me up, bend me, tell me what you need
Paper wears thin but they still pay no heed
Please let me please you, pour me into your mould
But break the silence......and watch the whole world turn cold!
Closed eyes start to open, mute voice starts to speak
Sickened by chasing and no longer weak
But don't dare to forget what the numbers dictated
Step out of your place and you will find yourself hated
For there is no warmth inside those who once folded dolls
They will skip away happily humming death tolls.

The tyranny of numbers came
To steal your brave and grow your lame
Heed this the journey of the paper doll
Pick up the scissors and off we go!


dedicated to all the paper doll folders of this world, may you one day receive exactly what you gave out!

Wednesday, 27 April 2016

100 Dolls and Me.....Travelling Again





The 100 Dolls and Me series is in front on me. Each drawing a single step through 100 days of chaos. I did not fully understand why so much chaos back then, for this was a series that foretold of stories yet unopened.

Within this making, more than at any other time to date, art was leading me. It's the end product of a creative subconscious yelling in my face to wake the hell up and start seeing! Art was trying to save me! 

I am listening to the dolls again, we are travelling hand in hand and this time they are leading me out of the woods! 


Doll 1: Make Me Yours! 
mixed -media drawing on paper.
size 17.5 x 24cm




Doll 2: Measure Up Bitch! 
mixed -media drawing on paper.
size 17.5 x 24cm


 Doll 3: The Death of Fairy Tales
mixed -media drawing on paper.
size 17.5 x 24cm



These the first three drawings in a series of 100. 

Linkwithin

LW