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  1. by Amanda Harlech .

    Nuit Blanche

    Haven't slept for days. Last night instead of post show blackout I had a nightmare that I had been given two minutes to live. Two girls had guns. Rei Kawakubo was watching herself on a television somewhere in the house - she knew I knew it was her as a little girl - maybe 8 years old. She had nothing to do with my imprisonment by the two gun girls. I woke up far too early and now suitcase packed, Ritz room dismantled, that nightmare of not being able to persuade somebody to give me longer to live holds on to me. Train metaphor? Eurostar? Train on the set? Going mad.

    Comments

    1. ericesquire
      20:42 7 Dec 2011
      the boy in me glows...

      |e e
    Comment
  2. by Amanda Harlech .

    Before dawn...

    Woke before dawn. Anxious about RA auction tonight. Feel very protective about my painting of a man in a bath. I will put a reserve of ten quid on it and hope to take it home tomorrow. Dutch Master winter sky, a tree line like an old fox and a pair of cock pheasants eyeing each other bright and coppery in the grass. Hard to leave.

    Comments

    1. ericesquire
      14:12 12 Dec 2011
      best of luck.

      |e e
    Comment
  3. by Amanda Harlech .

    Happy Christmas.

    Happy Christmas. Childish thoughts of the fairy at the top of the tree reaching down and transforming the forgotten shabby doll at the back of the toy cupboard into a princess. At the stroke of midnight on Christmas eve all the animals can talk for one minute - I've always wanted to stand on the yard and listen to the horses and the foxes. Sleet erased hills and a north wind. I feel like an innuit witch as I duck against the blast to fetch the wood or scabble for some sprouts - cold as bolts - in the garden.

    Recent comments

    1. ericesquire
      16:16 19 Dec 2011
      **happy christmas**

      |e e
    2. ericesquire
      19:49 27 Dec 2011
      although peaceful - dark sky and clouds with a glimpse of light breaking through.

      |e e
    Comment
  4. by Amanda Harlech .

    Shropshire

    Gales, floods last week. Wind sucked down the chimney. House full of smoke. Hacked smoke alarms off ceilings with a screw driver. Telephone line out of action and the kitchen turning to stone as the wind blew the Aga out. And always the howling and moaning insistent wind picking and pulling at the windows and doors. Lost my balance. Couldn't hear, smell, see. The horses were wild, calling to each other in panic sensing the river rising up through the ground. For three days and nights I twisted and fretted. Awake, reading The Cat's Table at 3am, I realised the power of the writer's art to create another world. I inhabited the Oronsay. It's a brilliant book. Then the wind dropped. Epiphany. I started making a giant pagan egg - a sort of virginal momento mori with crowns of dried wild flowers and a pressed rose like staunched blood. Need to paint more flowers and then throw something at it. I've gessoed ripped lace on the bottom of the egg. I think it needs Miss Lasqueti's scar - her rage at the man who took her and tried to suck all that was her out of her- who turned back her hand holding the scissors and drove it into her stomach.

    Today is the day of sending off an edit after weeks of stalling to my editor. Three new chapters and I still haven't linked up the narrative . For some reason the plot keeps sliding off sideways - but I will get there.

    Comments

    1. ericesquire
      23:17 15 Jan 2012
      all is pretty...

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    Comment
  5. by Amanda Harlech .

    The Egg...

    The pagan egg is being collected. I am sad as I've got attached to primavera egg with its Miss Havisham ripped lace and the crown of wildflowers woven for her when she was still full of hope. I'm not sure what it all means but I love the blood red thread hanging from it. I've wrapped it in cling film. No idea if it will survive the journey. Strange gnostic egg.

  6. by Amanda Harlech .

    Off to Rome...

    Off to Rome. I thought the snow at dawn might save me from hours in taxis, trains,planes. Cracking on with the edit for my novel with the fires burning and the dogs checking up on me has been calm, steadying with dreams not nightmares. I had been so crushed by the Chinese water dragon entering the year - I lost everything that week - but slowly, slowly I am seeing again and setting things down. Dominic Jones made the long journey North to see me. We told stories of metal and stone. There's a different note to the birdsong - the first scribbles just before dawn sound like ice melting.

    Comments


    1. 10:04 20 Feb 2012
      nice picture Amanda.
      Weirdly so obviously you!
    Comment
  7. by Amanda Harlech .

    Day 2

    Day 2. The loneliness of the hotel. Had a fitting in the hills outside Rome last night. Strange to think that within four days we will have done the show. Wanted to wander around the cobbled streets of Casperia in the rain but headed back to Rome with Charlotte to try and hunt down sleep. Leaving for Milan today. Regretting the size of my suitcase - too many books and papers. And no camera.

  8. by Amanda Harlech .

    Day 3

    Day 3. Couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes it was as though I was looking at my hair underwater or strands of seaweed. Then the mutating faces which morph and stretch and mouth but soundlessly - a sort of Dickensian cast of characters. Karl arrives tonight. It will be a long day.

  9. by Amanda Harlech .

    Day before the show...

    Day before the show. Another nuit blanche. Another 4.30am digital depression. I want to drop the hotel electronic clock down the loo. Collection on schedule and gathering strength as it begins to get worked into - mixed, layered, ordered into sequence. Michel Goubert is his visionary self and gives us his seal of approval. Stephen is here in spirit and we feel his smile. Karl is on glittering form and enjoying his 007 video glasses that nobody knows about. I spotted the strange tool box that Sebastian was carrying to his hotel room last night.

    Comments

    1. ericesquire
      16:32 22 Feb 2012
      as in - the show must go on...

      ☛ eric esquire
    Comment
  10. by Amanda Harlech .

    Showtime!

    Showtime!! Karl surveys the backstage with his video glasses.

     

     

  11. by Amanda Harlech .

    The man in black!

    The man in black! Self possessed - poised - ready to send his collection out on a galuchat set with Michel's dark landscape of a soundtrack. The collection is sensuous and richly resolved in texture and volume. The balance of colour has such authority - it has all the wildness and truth of Siberia.

    Comments

    1. ericesquire
      14:45 23 Feb 2012
      who made his "dickensian" style coat [s] that he wore under | after the chanel haute couture and in public?
      looked cool with the jeans instead of "suit" trousers...my compliments

      ☛ eric esquire
    Comment
  12. by Amanda Harlech .

    A play...

    Think I'm going to write a play called 'The story of sleep' about a woman who disintegrates without it/him and reassembles after one night in Paris when he comes - unasked, no sleeping pill cry, just comes. I can't believe it. I'm sitting at the desk listening to the sparrows in the slice of tree line below my window, a clock ticks, somewhere in the bowels of the Ritz a bath is being run, but otherwise it is a familiar unquiet.

    Comments

    1. kimmi
      13:48 24 Feb 2012
      asleep the snow came flying
    Comment
  13. by Amanda Harlech .

    Last time...

    Last time in my room in the Ritz. They are closing the Cambon side. Only now, as I am about to leave, do I feel sad.

    Comments

    1. ericesquire
      16:39 6 Mar 2012
      try to say...I refuse to be a prisoner of my own image.'

      ☛ eric esquire
    Comment
  14. Comments

    1. ericesquire
      19:37 6 Mar 2012
      feld and feld - all is pretty...

      ☛ eric esquire
    Comment
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