This piece comes unearthed from the scores of notes and scraps that will hopefully one day make up my novel! I decided, after being inspired by my lovely writing ladies, to bite the bullet and attempt to make some sense of all those pages. Since writing a lot of these paragraphs, my writing style has changed a little, I've learnt a lot from my wonderful teacher Francesca Lia Block, and my fellow students and friends. This is one of the paragraphs that for now might not make it into the first draft, but I still really like it so I'm going to share it with you lovely people instead!
I hope you like it! As always, all feedback is welcome!
I lined up all my make up against the edge of the window, with the backdrop of a city plagued with an eternal bout of insomnia stretching out above and below me, and turned to fresh blank page in my notebook.
With my new kohl eyeliner pencil, I sketched the image of a girl, with large open eyes that go deeper than the white lined page, long lashes, a non-descript nose scattered with freckles and a full mouth with just a hint of a smile. Her face was framed with locks of hair that fell in a tangle of curls. My hand seemed to move of its own accord, disconnected from my consciousness and tapping into my creative spirit that had been suppressed by so much adolescent lethargy and sensory abuse; it guided the pencil independently.
I did not have any paints, but my foundation brought out her pale skin tone, my bright red lipstick drew the blood into the silhouette of her mouth, while her eyes sparkled with the stars hidden in the sheen of metallic green eye shadow. But my favourite part was the colouring of her hair; using my darkest blush, I licked my finger and dipped it in the compact, tracing the outline, and then the centre of her elegant curls on the paper, until her face was surrounded by a cascade of roses. I held her up to the window, this girl that seemed to be the projection of my soul, and the rushing light of the city traffic below shone through so that it almost looked like blood running through veins in her face. She looked like me, but then again she didn’t; she could have been my sister. It was then that I realised this was the identity I had been searching for, and as long as it existed, rooted deeply in my subconscious, I could not be happy, because I could not be her.
This artwork is by one of my favourite illustrators and fellow Melbourne creative Emma Leonard! I'm sure I've talked about her on this blog before, but she really is the bees knees! This isn't painted with make up, obviously, but I guess you could say this is similar to what I can see in my brain! Anyways, you can check more of her stuff here if you like, or visit her inspiration blog here!