Forgotten

Spanish Gypsy doll

what more needs to be said? she tells her own story

Mop angel

Spirits of rubbish

Voodo teaches to never throw things away, to make use of everything so as not to offend the spirits.
In the teachings I am receiveing, everything has a story, how it came to be in this form, each particles journey. One beings shit is anothers food. I will dedicate my work as an offering to the sprits of the dead- the Gede family and Baron Samedi. Making spirit dolls out of rubbish is a statement of finding Spirituality withing the rejects of consumerism, amongst the piles of waste our materialist society deems 'useless'.

Papa Legba Open the Gate.

Baron Samedi

in the squat- junk

In the squat- ground floor

Sunrise

Sunrises in Spain.

Island Bird

The Island Bird was sitting in a very tall palm tree. It was very peaceful, swaying in the cool breeze. It sat and swayed for a very long time, as it had been doing for most of its life. ...

Suddenly a thought occured to it. It was very shocked as this was a very rare event. Wouldnt it be good if i had arms! then i could swing from the branches and dance like the coconuts! The Island Bird swayed in the breeze, for a long time, still in shock by this miraculous thought.

The wind picked up and the Island Bird ruffled its colourful feathers. Give me some arms! it squawked.
You can have my feathers!

The wind whirled round the Island Birds head, and whipped at its claws.

It blew so hard that the Island Bird lost its balance and began to slip from the branch. As it tumbled down, arms started to reach out to break its fall..

Arms!

The Island Bird did not like this sensation of falling, it was something it had never done before. It hit the ground with a thud and rolled over to see lots of colourful feathers dancing and spiralling in the air.

It watched as the coconuts fell to the ground beside it like the rain of a storm. it reached and caught one in its hand.

wow! it was quite exhilarated. i can dance like the coconuts!

The Island Bird started to climb back up the tree. after a long time of trial and error, it made it back to its favourite branch and continued to sway in the subsided breeze. it wiggled its fingers and tried to catch the air, dancing, weaving, playing. Thanking.

But after a while, it longed to fly again, to feel the freedom, to stretch out its wings, to nosedive and dance with the other birds. But its beautiful feathers where gone.

Even the trees have feathers!

It squawked, shocked at yet another thought! it hugged the branch and swung around it in joy. Share with me your feathers! so that i can fly again! and i will be your friend and hug you with my long arms!

The tree swayed and its feathers ruffled gently in the breeze. A few of them flew off, jumping and floating in the air. the Island Bird shimmyed over and caught them.

Somehow after a long time of finger dancing, the Island Bird managed to weave the ends of the leaves together. More leaves flew from the tree and it caught them and weaved them in.

Eventually the Island Bird had made two wings. Then it begun to attatch them to itself, using more leaves, around its arms.

The Island bird leapt into the sky, its fingers spread like the feathers it once loved, and was lifted up by the breeze.






     This story came from a wooden bracelet made in india and a peacock feather earring- and my imagination- the wisdom of the ancient mind.

The Spring Maiden

She grows with the rising of the Sun, stretching out to embrace the sky.
Her crown of flowers start to open with the sweet melody of birdsong,
Kissing the fresh winds that breathe new life into All.