Miss Kiki Salon Presents... 'Six Easy Pieces' Events

More news on the exciting Six Easy Pieces project I'm involved in:

(The image used for my silk panel)

An exhibition of the inaugural collection of silk panels supported by additional works by the featured artists. Produced by 'Miss Kiki Salon Presents...' in association with Reading Room.
Opens 8 February to 2 March 2010

65-66 Frith Street
Soho, London W1D 3JR

Private view to mark the eve of London Fashion Week: Thursday 18 February 2010, 6.30pm – 8.30pm

For a personal invitation please contact:

kiki@misskikisalonpresents.co.uk

http://www.readingroom.com

About 'Miss Kiki Salon Presents...'

A collaborative concept designed to celebrate and promote the work of emerging artists, photographers, illustrators and designers in a way that is fair to them, and compelling to the world at large.

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ALSO: 'Miss Kiki Salon Presents...' will be appearing at pop-up showroom in Liberty House.

About London a la Mode
'Our collaboration for February expands the conventional boundaries of fashion, embracing an exciting mix of British talent spanning Ready to Wear, Accessories and Lifestyle.
Exploring new ideas, concepts & techniques, the featured designers have their own cache of followers, including celebrities, stylists and press, with many having built their business on commissioned work.
As ever, 'London a la Mode' is a collaborative force to be reckoned with. Welcome to the future!'

-A

It's the little things we dream of...

We all dream of something…  we dream of visiting places we’ve never seen or things we long to experience. These dreams are special and come under the heading ‘Things to do before I die’ and when we speak of them we often say “One day I want to…”

Here’s a dream… or two of mine.

I want to take a journey from London to Venice on the beautifully iconic Orient Express.

And I want to take Sunday Jazz Brunch in the Blue Room at The Roosevelt in New Orleans.

“During the height of the supper clubs in the early 1900s there was one venue that continually drew the stars of stage and screen for unforgettable performances – the Blue Room. Locals and visitors alike would put on their best and head to The Roosevelt to see celebrities like Louis Armstrong, Ray Charles, Frank Sinatra and Jimmy Durante earn their fame.”

Also In 1957, while filming King Creole, Elvis and his people occupied the top floor of The Roosevelt New Orleans… I figure that if The King stayed here then why can't I?

It’s these dreams of ours that make the dark times a little lighter.

-A

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true”

Miss Kiki Salon Presents... 'Six Easy Pieces'

I'd like to give you a sneak preview of things to come, in the form of one of the collaborative projects I'm really excited to be part of.

Let me invite you into the wonderful world of Miss Kiki Salon Presents...

About 'Six Easy Pieces' ~ "The idea is inspired by the work of Zika and Lida Ascher who arrived in London when Czechoslovakia was annexed and whose collaborations with some of the 20th century's leading artists created not only a huge body of work in textile design, it also left a legacy of silk panels that are now rare and coveted collector's pieces."

Detailed information about the project is available on the website so please to take a moment to check it out.
More details about a February Show and other exciting things to follow...

-A

A very strange coincidence.

I finished The Red Shoes artwork on Friday but as always leave pieces alone for a day, before looking over them again with fresh eyes to ensure they are truly complete.
What a strange coincidence to find out that on the VERY same day I had finished, the 1948 film "The Red Shoes" began playing in the cinemas once more. It's based loosely on the Hans Christian Andersen tale and tells the story of an enchanting ballerina who dances herself to death when forced to choose between her love for ballet and her love for a man. It was shot in stunning Technicolor, and has been newly restored thanks to the wonderful Martin Scorsese.
The acclaimed director said: "My father took me to see it in 1950 when I was eight and I've never forgotten it. I wouldn't know how to begin to explain what this film has meant to me over the years. It's about the joy and exuberance of film-making itself. It's one of the true miracles of film history."

Here is the original trailer for The Red Shoes.

The Red Shoes is obviously a tale on several people's lips at moment...
-A

New Artwork: The Red Shoes

Inspired by Hans Christian Andersen, the sinister elements found in old bedtime stories and a touch of Kafka for good measure.

As a child, I loved reading Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale books. Old fairy tales, like nursery rhymes, may appear magical at first glance but once you start to look below the surface, a dark and macabre side often appears. Things are not always as pretty as they first seem...

One of these tales is The Red Shoes. It was first published in 1845 and is the story of a girl who is forced to dance, a never-ending dance, in a pair of beautiful red shoes.

For those who have never read it, here is a translation of "De røde Skoe"

There was once a little girl, very nice and very pretty, but so poor that she had to go barefooted all summer. And in winter she had to wear thick wooden shoes that chafed her ankles until they were red, oh, as red as could be.


In the middle of the village lived "Old Mother Shoemaker." She took some old scraps of red cloth and did her best to make them into a little pair of shoes. They were a bit clumsy, but well meant, for she intended to give them to the little girl. Karen was the little girl's name.


The first time Karen wore her new red shoes was on the very day when her mother was buried. Of course, they were not right for mourning, but they were all she had, so she put them on and walked barelegged after the plain wicker coffin.


Just then a large old carriage came by, with a large old lady inside it. She looked at the little girl and took pity upon her. And she went to the parson and said: "Give the little girl to me, and I shall take good care of her."


Karen was sure that this happened because she wore red shoes, but the old lady said the shoes were hideous, and ordered them burned. Karen was given proper new clothes. She was taught to read, and she was taught to sew. People said she was pretty, but her mirror told her, "You are more than pretty. You are beautiful."


It happened that the Queen came traveling through the country with her little daughter, who was a Princess. Karen went with all the people who flocked to see them at the castle. The little Princess, all dressed in white, came to the window to let them admire her. She didn't wear a train, and she didn't wear a gold crown, but she did wear a pair of splendid red morocco shoes. Of course, they were much nicer than the ones "Old Mother Shoemaker" had put together for little Karen, but there's nothing in the world like a pair of red shoes!


When Karen was old enough to be confirmed, new clothes were made for her, and she was to have new shoes. They went to the house of a thriving shoemaker, to have him take the measure of her little feet. In his shop were big glass cases, filled with the prettiest shoes and the shiniest boots. They looked most attractive but, as the old lady did not see very well, they did not attract her. Among the shoes there was a pair of red leather ones which were just like those the Princess had worn. How perfect they were! The shoemaker said he had made them for the daughter of a count, but that they did not quite fit her.


"They must be patent leather to shine so," said the old lady.


"Yes, indeed they shine," said Karen. As the shoes fitted Karen, the old lady bought them, but she had no idea they were red. If she had known that, she would never have let Karen wear them to confirmation, which is just what Karen did.


Every eye was turned toward her feet. When she walked up the aisle to the chancel of the church, it seemed to her as if even those portraits of bygone ministers and their wives, in starched ruffs and long black gowns-even they fixed their eyes upon her red shoes. She could think of nothing else, even when the pastor laid his hands upon her head and spoke of her holy baptism, and her covenant with God, and her duty as a Christian. The solemn organ rolled, the children sang sweetly, and the old choir leader sang too, but Karen thought of nothing except her red shoes.


Before the afternoon was over, the old lady had heard from everyone in the parish that the shoes were red. She told Karen it was naughty to wear red shoes to church. Highly improper! In the future she was always to wear black shoes to church, even though they were her old ones.


Next Sunday there was holy communion. Karen looked at her black shoes. She looked at her red ones. She kept looking at her red ones until she put them on.


It was a fair, sunny day. Karen and the old lady took the path through the cornfield, where it was rather dusty. At the church door they met an old soldier, who stood with a crutch and wore a long, curious beard. It was more reddish than white. In fact it was quite red. He bowed down to the ground, and asked the old lady if he might dust her shoes. Karen put out her little foot too.


"Oh, what beautiful shoes for dancing," the soldier said. "Never come off when you dance," he told the shoes, as he tapped the sole of each of them with his hand.


The old lady gave the soldier a penny, and went on into the church with Karen. All the people there stared at Karen's red shoes, and all the portraits stared too. When Karen knelt at the altar rail, and even when the chalice came to her lips, she could think only of her red shoes. It was as if they kept floating around in the chalice, and she forgot to sing the psalm. She forgot to say the Lord's Prayer.


Then church was over, and the old lady got into her carriage. Karen was lifting her foot to step in after her when the old soldier said, "Oh, what beautiful shoes for dancing!"


Karen couldn't resist taking a few dancing steps, and once she began her feet kept on dancing. It was as if the shoes controlled her. She danced round the corner of the church-she simply could not help it. The coachman had to run after her, catch her, and lift her into the carriage. But even there her feet went on dancing so that she gave the good old lady a terrible kicking. Only when she took her shoes off did her legs quiet down. When they got home the shoes were put away in a cupboard, but Karen would still go and look at them.


Shortly afterwards the old lady was taken ill, and it was said she could not recover. She required constant care and faithful nursing, and for this she depended on Karen. But a great ball was being given in the town, and Karen was invited. She looked at the old lady, who could not live in any case. She looked at the red shoes, for she thought there was no harm in looking. She put them on, for she thought there was no harm in that either. But then she went to the ball and began dancing. When she tried to turn to the right, the shoes turned to the left. When she wanted to dance up the ballroom, her shoes danced down. They danced down the stairs, into the street, and out through the gate of the town. Dance she did, and dance she must, straight into the dark woods.


Suddenly something shone through the trees, and she thought it was the moon, but it turned out to be the red-bearded soldier. He nodded and said, "Oh, what beautiful shoes for dancing."


She was terribly frightened, and tried to take off her shoes. She tore off her stockings, but the shoes had grown fast to her feet. And dance she did, for dance she must, over fields and valleys, in the rain and in the sun, by day and night. It was most dreadful by night. She danced over an unfenced graveyard, but the dead did not join her dance. They had better things to do. She tried to sit on a pauper's grave, where the bitter fennel grew, but there was no rest or peace for her there. And when she danced toward the open doors of the church, she saw it guarded by an angel with long white robes and wings that reached from his shoulders down to the ground. His face was grave and stern, and in his hand he held a broad, shining sword.


"Dance you shall!" he told her. "Dance in your red shoes until you are pale and cold, and your flesh shrivels down to the skeleton. Dance you shall from door to door, and wherever there are children proud and vain you must knock at the door till they hear you, and are afraid of you. Dance you shall. Dance always."


"Have mercy upon me!" screamed Karen. But she did not hear the angel answer. Her shoes swept her out through the gate, and across the fields, along highways and byways, forever and always dancing.


One morning she danced by a door she knew well. There was the sound of a hymn, and a coffin was carried out covered with flowers. Then she knew the old lady was dead. She was all alone in the world now, and cursed by the angel of God.


Dance she did and dance she must, through the dark night. Her shoes took her through thorn and briar that scratched her until she bled. She danced across the wastelands until she came to a lonely little house. She knew that this was where the executioner lived, and she tapped with her finger on his window pane.


"Come out!" she called. "Come out! I can't come in, for I am dancing."


The executioner said, "You don't seem to know who I am. I strike off the heads of bad people, and I feel my ax beginning to quiver."


"Don't strike off my head, for then I could not repent of my sins," said Karen. "But strike off my feet with the red shoes on them."


She confessed her sin, and the executioner struck off her feet with the red shoes on them. The shoes danced away with her little feet, over the fields into the deep forest. But he made wooden feet and a pair of crutches for her. He taught her a hymn that prisoners sing when they are sorry for what they have done. She kissed his hand that held the ax, and went back across the wasteland.


"Now I have suffered enough for those red shoes," she said. "I shall go and be seen again in the church." She hobbled to church as fast as she could, but when she got there the red shoes danced in front of her, and she was frightened and turned back.


All week long she was sorry, and cried many bitter tears. But when Sunday came again she said, "Now I have suffered and cried enough. I think I must be as good as many who sit in church and hold their heads high." She started out unafraid, but the moment she came to the church gate she saw her red shoes dancing before her. More frightened than ever, she turned away, and with all her heart she really repented.


She went to the pastor's house, and begged him to give her work as a servant. She promised to work hard, and do all that she could. Wages did not matter, if only she could have a roof over her head and be with good people. The pastor's wife took pity on her, and gave her work at the parsonage. Karen was faithful and serious. She sat quietly in the evening, and listened to every word when the pastor read the Bible aloud. The children were devoted to her, but when they spoke of frills and furbelows, and of being as beautiful as a queen, she would shake her head.


When they went to church next Sunday they asked her to go too, but with tears in her eyes she looked at her crutches, and shook her head. The others went to hear the word of God, but she went to her lonely little room, which was just big enough to hold her bed and one chair. She sat with her hymnal in her hands, and as she read it with a contrite heart she heard the organ roll. The wind carried the sound from the church to her window. Her face was wet with tears as she lifted it up, and said, "Help me, O Lord!"


Then the sun shone bright, and the white-robed angel stood before her. He was the same angel she had seen that night, at the door of the church. But he no longer held a sharp sword. In his hand was a green branch, covered with roses. He touched the ceiling with it. There was a golden star where it touched, and the ceiling rose high. He touched the walls and they opened wide. She saw the deep-toned organ. She saw the portraits of ministers and their wives. She saw the congregation sit in flower-decked pews, and sing from their hymnals. Either the church had come to the poor girl in her narrow little room, or it was she who had been brought to the church. She sat in the pew with the pastor's family. When they had finished the hymn, they looked up and nodded to her.


"It was right for you to come, little Karen," they said.


"It was God's own mercy," she told them.


The organ sounded and the children in the choir sang, softly and beautifully. Clear sunlight streamed warm through the window, right down to the pew where Karen sat. She was so filled with the light of it, and with joy and with peace, that her heart broke. Her soul traveled along the shaft of sunlight to heaven, where no one questioned her about the red shoes.

New Artwork: The Forgotten

It seems that New Orleans is never far from my mind. I've already created two artworks dedicated to one of the most unique places on Earth... one was a tribute to old New Orleans and the other, created with hurricane Katrina in mind was very chaotic in nature. I was never completely happy with the later and so decided to create a piece that reflected New Orleans of now and the fighting spirit of those who reside there.

I know as I post this it will not be my last piece on this subject as the city of New Orleans is a powerful force and will always be once of my biggest inspirations.

-A

Where the wild things grow [Part Two]