Tag Archives: Weekend Showcase

Weekend Showcase: Sonja Seear (Photographer)

15 May

Spotlight

Every Friday, 1 creative, letting their work speak for itself.

.

Sonja Seear

.TimeforTea

Click to make the image bigger

.

Time for Tea

The image is from my project ‘Time for Tea’ focusing on the subject of tea drinking. I chose afternoon tea as a subject, as it is quintessentially an English tradition despite tea drinking being imbibed in many cultures across the world. The project aimed to reflect the social aspects of tea drinking, the intimacy of this experience where increasingly time is more precious, and communication is becoming instant, yet impersonal and superficial. The project aimed to illustrate how the ritual of tea drinking is individual in terms of colours, flavours, and setting.

 

https://twitter.com/Sonja_Seear

https://www.behance.net/Sonja_Seear

For more information about Sonja’s Photographic Services: http://www.sonjamartinphotography.com/contact%20page.html

 

Please do get in touch if you would like to be showcased via the form in the What’s On page, or the reply box. 

Advertisements

Weekend Showcase: Stuart Slater (Artist)

20 Mar

Spotlight

Every Friday, 1 creative, letting their work speak for itself.

 

Stuart Slater

.

Get Carter

Get Carter 

From the RYBG Series

.

Artist’s Statement

Rediscovering Art

Art was always my strongest subject when I was at school. However, after graduating from Aberystwyth University with a degree in Fine Art I sadly lost interest in the subject. All passion for creating art had simply faded.

​In February 2014, some 16 years later, I was persuaded to once again have a go at some simple sketch work. One sketch turned into many and soon the sketches became paintings. I had found my passion once more. Since then I have produced over 70 pieces of work; the most prolific I have ever been.

I have a great love for colour in art and I am currently based Solihull. I produce abstracts and portraiture.

 

stuartslaterart.co.uk

https://twitter.com/Stuart_Slater

.

 .
If you would like a Weekend Showcase please do get in touch via the contact form on the What’s On Page , or via the comment box.
>>>>>>>
 

 

>>>>

 

>>>>

Weekend Showcase : Stephen Thom (Writer)

13 Mar

Spotlight

Every Friday, 1 creative, letting their work speak for itself.

______

Stephen Thom

.

Marbles

 

.

IT IS ALL LITTLE MARBLES IN OUR EARS

by Stephen Thom

.

Hugh placed his plastic cup of sparkling wine beside the picnic hamper and pushed the tweezers deep into Lottie’s left ear. She slugged her own cup back violently, wincing as the bubbles surged down her throat and cold metal tongs simultaneously wriggled into her earhole. Selecting a pair of tweezers for herself, she directed them into Hugh’s right ear and tried to focus on her own prodding and poking. And as it was, she succeeded first. A little, smooth, dark round bead was tugged from Hugh’s ear, clenched between the pincers of the metal implement. Swiftly the bead was followed by more and more tiny round balls, connected together by some sinewy, sticky tether. Hugh’s ear bled as the beads were carefully extracted; dribbling, red pearls hanging from the lobe.

‘How does it feel?’ Lottie asked. Hugh’s head was throbbing, but he didn’t want it to show. Instead he tried to change the subject. ‘I can’t seem to get a handle on yours.’ He switched positions, wedging the blanket into the sand beneath it as he shifted onto his knees. Finally he felt his tweezers click around a smooth surface, and with his eyes screwed up in concentration, tugged the first few beads from Lottie’s left ear. They slid out with comparative ease; soon a whole, slick chain of dark little stony spheres was unravelling out of her earhole, and she barely flinched as she focused on yanking and squeezing Hugh’s assorted beads out individually.

‘Ow,’ he muttered, craning his neck against the roving tweezers. ‘Ow.’ His eyes flickered to the trail hanging from his ear. ‘Ah…Jesus.’

‘They look a bit like marbles,’ breathed Lottie, stroking his head to calm him. ‘I thought you’d be able to see…more, or anything. Maybe they’re different on the outside, like, maybe they change?’

‘Maybe,’ choked Hugh, grinding his teeth as water formed in the corners of his eyes.

With a sucking noise, what appeared to be the final bead was wrenched from Hugh’s ear; Lottie laid his collection in a bundle on the blanket beside her own, long since unravelled to the ground. They surveyed the piles of beads in silence for a while, Hugh rubbing his ear. ‘How long do you think we have?’ He murmured.

Lottie looked up at him. His eyes were jet black, but she declined to inform him of this.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, reaching for his hand. Hugh let her caress his palm for a moment, then picked up one of his beads. He rotated it between thumb and forefinger. In the centre of the little ball, a cloud swirled amongst the gloom. As he watched, it gathered texture, accumulating into a structured mass. This mass snaked out to incorporate fleeting glimpses of minuscule limbs, features, stretches of environment – a world condensed into a smooth, sticky marble.

‘No, you were right,’ Hugh concurred, ‘it must have been a type of…camouflage, or cover. Look, this is when I met you.’

He held it up to her glassy eyes, still in ownership of their pupils. A scene danced across the minute circular landscape.

‘It wasn’t, though,’ she replied, averting her gaze. Then, looking back at Hugh, she saw a thick sliver of black liquid ooze from his dark eyeballs. He wiped his cheek in shock. Hastily, he pulled the beads up one by one, scrutinising the pictures the little marbles conveyed.

‘This is Greece!’ He cried. ‘This was our holiday! When I was twelve…I had such bad sunburn. I had to have cold showers. Look, this is when Mum was ill…we were waiting at the station for Dad to pick us up, but he’d got the time wrong, and you just kept talking about how you have to pay to use the toilets there, I guess you didn’t want to talk about anything else-‘

‘Hugh…’ Lottie covered the bead with her left hand, and pulled the arm of her jumper down over her right hand, wiping away some of the black fluid flowing down his cheeks.

‘I don’t know if it was the right thing to do anymore,’ he croaked. He was having trouble kneeling upright now; he seemed to be hunching into himself without realising. ‘Even if they’re not ours, or mine, or whatever, it’s what we knew. It’s all I knew. I should honour that. It doesn’t feel right, or like I thought it would. I still spent my life with these people.’

Lottie kissed him on his smudged cheek. ‘It is right,’ she said, and she felt her own voice flagging as she did so. ‘You did spend your life with them, and you will meet them again, just in the right way this time. These things, here…’ her hands fumbled with the beads, ‘they’re not our own, they’re someone else’s interpretation. But all these…links, they’ll come back to you. You will see them again,’ she finished, trying to sound decisive.

Hugh’s face was a mess of black fluid, and he sunk to the blanket as his knees failed him. The sand that had drifted onto the blanket mingled with the thick oilish substance as cracks and sores opened across his skin, and more of it flooded forth. Lottie held his head tightly, staring straight ahead as her own eyes dulled to black.

‘Hugh, did you hear me? Hugh, it’ll be your own now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he sighed as a black mass converged before him and fractured into a million splinters; splinters that remolded themselves as little black marbles, tumbling in every direction.

He saw his embryonic, shapeless shadow chasing after them, ready, renewed-

‘Don’t ever be sorry,’ Lottie sobbed, somewhere far behind.

.

.

Biography

Stephen Thom is from Carrbridge in the Highlands of Scotland, and enjoys reading and writing fiction with an interpetive element. His pieces have appeared in Firewords Quarterly, Holdfast Magazine, Fur-Lined Ghettos, High Flight, Don’t Do It, Thought Collection Publishing, Thick Jam and Puffin Review amongst others.

http://stephenthom.wordpress.com/​
@StephenThom3

Stephen also plays mandolin in a folk-rock band called ‘Dante’. Their debut album, ‘Wake’, was released in October 2013 to fantastic reviews and features in the Herald’s ‘Top 50 Scottish Albums of the Year’.

http://www.dantemusic.com
@wearedante

 

 

If you would like a Weekend Showcase please do get in touch via the contact form on the What’s On Page or via the comment box.

 Image by Barnaby N: http://www.bbc.co.uk/blast/212455

 

 

 

Weekend Showcase : Rebecca Violet White (Poet)

6 Feb

Spotlight

Every Friday, 1 creative, letting their work speak for itself.

______

Rebecca Violet White

 

.

Welcome

.

How is London treating you?
London sticks like a burr
chases me shoulder to shoulder
drags out my elbows

and straight lines are like this
bird feet in the snow
from one to another

*

questions

I have thought about who chose the bus stops
names the streets here after birds
and therefore the bus stops

where are the flies

answers

My bed is always in orange light
the mice under the trains
tread out the map

*

Mice in the snow

would they trace the Piccadilly line
with their soot feet

.

Biography

Rebecca Violet White has lived in Nottingham, Cardiff, Devon, Norwich and now London. Some things of hers have been published by Ink, Sweat and Tears and For Book’s Sake. She likes to write about her places.

realrvwhite.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/RealRVWhite

.

If you would like a Weekend Showcase please do get in touch via the contact form on the What’s On Page or via the comment box.

 

 

 

 

Weekend Showcase: Louise M. Hart (Writer/Poet)

16 Jan

Spotlight

Every Friday, 1 creative, letting their work speak for itself.

 

Louise M. Hart

.

sunrise

 

.

North by West Midlands

by Louise M. Hart

.

I journeyed north in pursuit of happier thoughts
And a deep fried mars bar
But, blind were the eyes, watching me arrive
And burnt was the mars bar

My baggage was heavy with burdens
Beside me, were a loving Mother and my black (and white) dog
It had been a long, exhausting ride
Whose terminus,
Under the conceit of summer sunshine, concealed the cloudy thoughts
That burst inside my mind

Thus, I regressed to a developmentally former time
My awareness of my impending pain
Like the cries of a virgin bride
Hidden from world view

Cradled in the comfort womb of the Scottish landscape
“It’s beautiful,” I cried
I could never distinguish calculated deceit from honest lies
And, thus, unpacked my luggage, as though
I was holidaying in a land of enlightenment and fun

And the sea called to me, “Run”

So, we turned our backs on reality and ran
Billy, my beloved dog before he was taken and I
Hugging feral fingered trees in the name of city slickers
We blamed ourselves for our inability to defeat the bourgeoisie
With our indiscreet charm and our inadvertent attempts at infamy

But, soon the sun was gone

And the trees were as bare as my face
Expressing thoughts as toxically as fumes of human waste

I realised that my end was nigh, when I could no longer cry
My life collapsing, like The State’s self proclaimed fiscal cliff
Into the gluttonous foam of the North Sea’s residential home
In which my austere soul sprayed stingy piss
And fired blanks thoughts with life denying regularity

I became undone

And, then winter’s chill arrived
Articulating its intent in my mind’s shrieking descent

Into gloomy thoughts and conspicuous insanity
I entered a race I was born to lose
Whose other competitors existed as alien forms
So prolific that I believed mine to be the only existing human face
That interpreted the unnatural selection of human rejection
And the death of universal subjectivity

A belief in fate’s omnipotence
Became my faith, my anti-God delusion
Of confinement secured by thought intrusion
And mental institutionalisation

Wintertime thrust me between the thighs
Of a system I summoned, but despised
Whereupon a nurse knocked my gentle door
For I had slept not, the night before
Rising before the portents of a spreading dawn
And staring blankly at the dark and silent screen of my television

There are clubs, up north, especially created for the chemically inferior
Staffed by people who, even before the humiliation of an introduction
Know every member’s name
For in their eyes, we all look the same
Sporting diagnostic labels and medicated shuffles
Our identities socially constructed and acted out in vain regard
For the needs we espouse
And contradicted by the nature of the pills
We consume to reinforce
And legitimate the acute angles of the pain we survive

They wiped my arse, but closed their ears when I spoke
Offering computerised basket weaving and messages of no hope

Ooh, there’s trouble up north
When identity crumbles, like ideological rubble
For I had fallen and been captured by a beast with two faces
One face that soothed my heated brow
The other, functioning as subjectivity’s adversarial sacred cow
Cock, bull and ball breaker of all fleshy nuts of bone and brain
It destroyed meaning, like the presence of a double negative
In a sentence, articulated in the open parenthesis of pseudo-silence
And intellectual non-sense

Eventually, I wrote a book
And defected to the way out west, to try my luck-
The mid land of nowhere

Life had knocked me down
But, creativity lifted me back up

.

You can find more about Louise and her poetry here:
 .
.
If you would like a Weekend Showcase please do get in touch via the contact form on the What’s On Page or via the comment box.
>hhttps://twitter.com/shunterthompsonhttps://twitter.com/shunterthompsonvhttps://twitter.com/shunterthompsonhttps://twitter.com/shunterthompsonhttps://twitter.com/shunterthompsonhttps://twitter.com/shunterthompsonvttps://twitter.com/shunterthompson>>>>

 

>>>>>>>
 

 

>>>>

 

>>>>

Weekend Showcase : Chris Nugent (Artist)

28 Nov

Spotlight

Every Friday, 1 creative, letting their work speak for itself.

______

Chris Nugent

 

Piece 1 Chris Nugent

Neuropia

 

The white picture [above] with the colourful pattern i call Neuropia. It was created to give of happy vibes and energy. The patterning representing thought processes and the endless possibilities of the mind.

.

Piece 2 Chris Nugent

Biophot

.

The even more colourful picture I call Biopoht [above]. Quite simply a fantasy dreamland and colourful feast for the eyes. As with all my work i like to feel uplifted when i look at it and also hope it has the same effect on other people.

.

Biography

I have always had a creative side to me, but never known how to express it. Often picking up a pencil to sketch something, only to face a mind blank and a complete lack of idea. I left the Royal Navy earlier this year and found i had a little more time on my hands to express some creativity, so i got that pen and paper out and just let my mind wander. What came out of this i thought to myself is pretty good. So there it started, about six months ago, and hopefully i can now start to get my work out there, try bigger pieces and new things. My pictures are my escapism and i now feel i wouldn’t be me without doing them. So here’s to the future, and what creativity it may bring with it.

https://twitter.com/doodleartz

.

 

 

* Weekend Showcase is a simple showcasing opportunity for creatives from any discipline. The opportunity features a creative and the piece they feel best represents them at the moment. If you would like to be showcased do get in  touch via the contact form on the What’s On page or via the comments or reply tab at the bottom of posts. 

 

Thank you for your interest.

Inspired by the Sun. Paintings by artist Tracey Jane Cooper (FreeSpace #2)

10 Nov

Welcome to the second of 3 FreeSpace posts from artist Tracey Jane Cooper reflecting upon another selection of her paintings. 

.

Inspired by the sun….

– Mellow Meadow and Summer Infusion-

Both 40 cm x 40 cm acrylic on canvas

.

A piece, inspired by the sun, it’s light and warmth providing a secure blanket over the land, where the Spring was emerging after the winter, the meadow coming alive minute by minute.

 

Mellow Meadow

 Mellow Meadow

 

Here is Summer Infusion which was on my Weekend Showcase:

.

Summer Infusion by Tracey Cooper

Summer Infusion

.

In this piece I imagined a warm Summer evening, the sun setting and reflecting onto the wild flowers, causing them to look almost alight and alive. I hoped to portray the warmth and the scent that filled the air.

.

Biography

Tracey recently began painting again after many years dreaming about it.

I’m inspired by nature, particularly the sky. The sun and it’s warmth or coolness always feature, sometimes you can feel the heat of the sun in them, often the flowers are blistering in the intensity of it and that’s what I like to portray.
 
I paint mainly with acrylic, sometimes with watercolour for more fluidity, depending on the piece.
.

https://twitter.com/traceyjanesart

 

 

Tracey’s next FreeSpace will be on Thursday 25th November.  Do watch out for it.

And look out for the first batch of The Nine Realms poetry coming out this week….

 

 

FreeSpace is a creative opportunity that offers 3 posts on ArtiPeeps to an individual or group for showcasing or a project. The slots can be taken in a cluster or spread over a period of months. Do get in touch via the contact form on the What’s On page or via comments if you’d like to take up this opportunity.

%d bloggers like this: