Skip To Me .
When I was a little girl I wore black pantyhose on my head. Flicked back ponytail legs. Wobbled on stiletto sticks. Tripped and tumbled. And all fell down. Plaits now fall on shoulders of mine. Following and pretending packed away. I skip along paths dodging footprint holes and dress up boxes. Never again to cover my tracks. I skip like a stone forever on a path of my own.
Footnote: This ink came to me about from feeling a sense of being grown up. Not in the conventional sense. Just feeling ‘integrated’ with the little girl. Found this quote, “Happy ever afters are stories not finished yet” . A line Angelique Jollie dishes up to Brad in the movie Mr and Mrs Smith. And yes, I did wear pantyhose on my head as a kid – and painted false finger nails made out of sticky tape.
Find her in Rock The Boat book.
Excerpt from Art Apart, written by Kate Bezar, Dumbo Feather magazine. Art by Douglas.
Outsider Art does not just refer to artists without any prior exposure to art, but more broadly to people who work outside of the accepted art networks and institutions. In many cases, they suffer from mental illness or disability, but the list also includes prisoners, hermits and anyone who simply doesn’t fit. French artist, Jean Debuffet, was the first to give it a name; ‘l’Art Brut’, which translates as ‘raw art’. He described the genre as “works created from solitude and from pure and authentic creative impulses – where the worries of competition, acclaim and social promotion do not interfere. ”
(Visit Henry Boxer Gallery website and read the Artist’s fascinating biographies.)
Do you tell ?
It’s big. And if it lands on you, you’ll be crushed. We’ll be crushed. They I say it. There. It’s out. And it doesn’t fall. It flies. And we watch it. And it’s beautiful – because it’s free.
Footnote: Be very careful who you tell. Tell only when you’re ready to tell. When it’s safe to tell. Question the intention of the telling. The possible fall out from the telling. Choose a medium or process that holds you (and your story) as you tell – words, song, poem, image. Consider who might be able to help you catch it if ends up being bigger than you thought? Or maybe the secret is better kept than free?
The Black Dog Project came to life in 2006 with a theme ‘What’s your secret…’. The Project featured stories from people who wanted to share their experience with others. Black Dog has since ceased this theme and role due to the complicated nature (and painful experience) of telling our truth – particularly so publicly through an on-line medium. It also lead to the withdrawal of the book, ‘In My Room’, a book within I told my truth, and in telling it so publicly – rocked the boat.
Black Peacemakers .
Black peacemakers of inner conflict emerge from the depths of innocent souls. Standing firmly in experience. Boots too big tripping up lies so old. Delivering poignant punches of universal truth that swell much bigger than the silence. Inky stamps of self approval, together we rise, a revolution of self .
( Art and book design by Harley Manifold. Page from book, In My Room, 2007).
Rock The Boat .
In the darkness little helpers gathered . spilling rich black ink into soft white sheets . tailoring picture books to fill empty spaces … a few lines from a poem. The poem comes to life through a very special little book. Special, because it’s been handwritten by a young soul and for the message the handwriting carries.
Many young people I meet don’t write because they believe or have been told their handwriting is too messy, spelling all wrong, stories too bad to tell; and no-one would want to hear them anyway. So I asked one of these young people if they’d like to hand write ‘Rock The Boat’ book. We’ve been meeting regularly for well over a year now. Papers shuffling back and forth across tables in parks, libraries, cafes and quiet nooks. I bring a supply of inky brush pens; paper soft and white; the Army of Ink drawings and stories. Each piece is published in its raw and authentic form, complete with scribbling out and spelling mistakes. We hope it will encourage others to put pen to paper too.
Little Black Duck .
Mary doesn’t go around anymore, preferring the swamp to the lake. Where one is not laced in ribbons and bows, or stood up like pretty maids all in a row. And ducks are not ugly because they wear black. Jacks can be Jills – Jills can be Jacks.
When Mary accepted she was different – she could get away with being herself … and even if she didn’t fit it – she still had a place.
(Clunk & Jam book, 2019)
