routinemagic
Profile
“C’est mon plaisir” .... ‘because it pleases me’ is the underlying motivation for every piece of art I make, photograph I take, or thing I pick up.
Trained as a sculptor, I take photographs, paint, pick up random beautiful things, make assemblages, curate exhibitions, make props and costumes, occasionally put my words in public, love texture, and have just finished writing a Masters dissertation on ‘The artist’s role as collector of memory and self’ .
routinemagic@gmail.com
Groups
routinemagic is a member of Abstracts from Nature, Almost Famous, Alright, what is it?, Altered Art, Black and White Photography, Blur, Books, Candid Photography, Colour Me Vibrant Red!, Creative, Talented, and Unknown, Extreme Close-Ups, Fine Arts, Freedom In Words and ART, Kairos, Live Music Photography - Live life Live music, Natural Textures, Painters In Modern Times, Recycled, Rusty, Crusty and Falling to Bits, Something To Say, The Art of Pain, The Collector's Corner, The Woman Photographer **7 per week***, Travel and Adventure, Tuesday Afternoon, Unconventional Artistry - LOOKING FOR A CO-HOST and What A Shot .
Writing
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She fights to keep her Self from drowning in her desires, from being swallowed whole by her thoughts. Her fear seeps through the cracks, pushes its way in, burning the still-healing cuts, poking th…
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She closes her eyes. / covers her ears. / Breathes. / Lying as still as she can / she traverses the miles / mountains / plains / …
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he papers the the windows that face onto the alley with his words / she knows the hand that holds the pen; the heart that questions and wants still, she reads them quietly. furtively. / longing to…
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inbetween spaces and places. shadows of dreams / memories and hopes / and ‘one days’ the whisper of what could be / will be can be might be should be / woul…
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A place she cannot, must not, will not enter. / A place of rain and stars and longing. / .... of stolen metaphors and promises. / A secret, sacred place. There their magic lies. / A place she must acc…
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She’d lost things before. Found some, too. This was different. The proof of it lay in her soul’s ache. If only she knew a way to tell what she believed. What she knew to be True. …
