A date with London
Emerging from the chilled, air-conditioned train, I am immediately embraced by the stinky, sticky, thick-with-dust air of London's Victoria Station.
I speed-walk along the platform, threading between the strollers, the saunter-ers and the text-messaging stumblers. But it doesn't work – I'm still not quick enough to beat the bottle-neck at the barriers.
Soon enough though, I am bowling across the bustling, echoing cavern of the concourse, until I am spat out at the front of the building where the bus stops are. Gleaming red double-decker monstrosities, all sleek lines, modern curves and advertising, sit waiting. Shortly, the No. 73 pulls up with a heaving sigh of hydraulics, and I step aboard. The driver nods with unseeing eyes as I wave my travel pass, and head for an empty seat.
We wheeze into the labyrinth of city streets. As I try to fan myself with a train ticket, we trundle past buildings that look like gigantic, soot-stained wedding cakes encircled with neat, black painted iron railings. There are sky-high tangles of scaffolding everywhere. We chug onwards and presently a park hoves into view, resplendent in a chorus of glorious flowers and blooms, overhung by magnificent trees. Beneath them, sandwich eaters, lovers, lone office workers and daydreamers sit about in their shade.
We turn into Oxford Street (I always think of the recorded announcement on the Underground's Central Line – she seems to say, 'This is: Poxford Circus'). I hop off the bus. It pulls away but I soon overtake it again as I become lost among the throngs on the pavements.
Glancing upwards, I take in the magical fairy-tale-like architecture that floats above the visually assaulting ground-level shop fronts. Beautiful, castle-like turrets and gothic spires rise upwards – surely the perfect place for sneaky witches to take a pit-stop when no-one is looking.
But I need to look where I am going. I can't collide with the man in a top hat and mirror aviators, striding along in beaten up Converse sneakers. Or the girl with yards of costume pearls gleaming around her neck and shoulders. Or this girl, with her lavender hair and lashings of heavy black eye-makeup.
I am suckered into a shoe shop – sometimes fabulous red stilettos have to be at least tried.
A short while later, I am curled up in a big leather armchair, cradling a cappuccino and an art book. I gaze out of the window and think to myself, 'Oh London, why did we break up?'
And London says, 'You know I can't commit.'
'Hmm,' I smirk. Maybe some things are forgive-able.
Pearl
My friend Colin
I'd like to introduce you to Colin.
He is quite notorious in my town, with a propensity for loitering around the far end of the main street, where a friend of mine has a shop. When he is not lying in the sun by the side of the pavement, he makes regular visits to see his friends in various local establishments.
He is pretty aged – at 15 years, he would be about 80 if he was a human (according to a special 'cat years' calculator I found on Google.)
Just a few months ago, poor Colin was hit by a car. He sustained a broken pelvis among other injuries, and his lovely owner was distraught.
However, it turns out that Colin is made of sturdy stuff, and appears to have a full recovery.
While I was having a cup of tea with my friend who has the shop this weekend, Colin wondered in to say hi, with a meow that sounds a bit like a goose honk.
I looked down at him and noticed how he walked with such a languid kind of a stroll. He sat down and took a long, careful look around him, making sure to take everything in, before asking my friend if he could sit on her lap. He didn't seem traumatised or anguished in any way.
And I said to my friend, 'Aren't animals wonderful teachers about being in the moment?'
Next time I am feeling stressed or anxious or ruminating over past 'injuries', I'll try to think of Colin instead!
Pearl
Sign posts
And just like that, August had swooped in and blown out again! Phewee.
In my mind, I am still somewhere in early July, but there we go - I am always about six weeks behind. I feel like a spinning top that's clattering to a swirling, whirling, wobbling stop here... I have a little bit of space and time to recalibrate, breathe, and let the dust settle.
I am now eight months into this experiment and so, dear Magic Hunter, I am curious - what have you have enjoyed most in these daily missives, and what might you like to read more of?
Stories, creative writing?
News on artwork in progress?
News on completed artwork?
General observations about magical inspiration?
Any, or all of the above?
Let me know :o)
Pearl
Painted horses
It was an unusually balmy summer's evening in Brighton.
I had just come out from assisting a friend with a personal development workshop he was running, and I went down to the seafront for some decompression.
The water was calm – a smooth slab of silver under a wide, cloud-strewn sky. The beach, despite its uncomfortable pebbles, was liberally scattered with clusters of friends. The setting sun burned with a brilliant orange across the horizon, staining the city buildings behind me in hues of pink.
The air smelled of chip-fat as seagulls swooped past me in the dusk, checking me out to see if I had any food they could pilfer.
A few small sound-systems on the beach were playing pop music, but beyond the tinny tunes, I could hear the relentless cheeriness of a fairground pipe organ.
I made my way towards the merry-go-round. ('Don't you mean a carousel?' a friend once asked me. So I Googled it. Either term will do, and I prefer merry-go-round).
This evening there were no riders for the magic wooden horses – just a few drinkers looking on as they sat outside a nearby bar. And so, beneath the star-shaped arrangement of lightbulbs, the horses hung motionless from their golden poles.
As I circumnavigated the ride, I looked into the horses' painted eyes and thought about how evocative these creatures are. There is something magical, mysterious, and weirdly knowing about them. They hark back to time-bleached childhood memories, flights of fantasy, and the supernatural. They come from a world of fortune-tellers, Mary Poppins charm or horror movie influences.
I stood there and indulged in a little day-dream about hopping aboard one of them, and riding off into that sunset. As it happens, on this occasion, I went home on a train. But who knows about next time...
Pearl
Through the window
I wasn't going to go out that day.
I had decided it was important to tick off a bunch of chores and catch up on some life admin.
And then I had a change of heart. It had been a beautiful day, and I fancied a little time on the beach.
So I hopped on the train, and found myself treated to this most breathtaking sunset.
I would never have thought to combine these colours – the flaming golds, lemon-white and burnt oranges over the horizon with the slate and purple in the clouds. And I love the reflection of the lights in the train carriage caught in the window, too.
Basically, well worth missing a load of laundry for.
Pearl
Guerilla art
I'm not sure how long they have been lurking in the corridors...
But as we rattle through the final days of the opera festival, I have begun to notice some pieces of guerilla art appearing around the building.
So I decided to sneak one in of my own.
Pearl
New horizons
So I'm off to The Royal Albert Hall tonight!
Glyndebourne are taking their show La Clemenza di Tito to London for the Proms, and I will be helping out backstage. I'm excited!
I have to say, I come from a lifetime of listening to rock, pop and dance music, and it took five years of working on opera shows before the art-form began to have an effect on me. And now when I listen to opera or classical music in general, I can often think to myself... hm, maybe I am beginning to 'get it'!
I have had the goose-bump moments, the beautiful lurches of the spirit and yes, even tears.
It's probably the same for all kinds of art – painting, literature, dance – we enjoy what is most familiar to us.
So maybe give yourself some time with art-forms or artists that are unfamiliar or uncomfortable for you. Put aside your preconceptions and see if maybe, just maybe, you could get into something different...
If you're in the UK and you're interested, they'll be broadcasting our show live this evening on BBC Radio 3 at 7pm.
Pearl
Paper hats
It doesn't matter if your crown is only made of paper.
What matters is how you feel about it.
Pearl
Dust magic
Here is a box of magic.
Little trinkets I found on the streets of London while I was a student.
I had an idea of creating collections from other cities I have lived in or visited - but so far, I keep forgetting.
Or maybe I used to look down a lot more than I do now, ha!
But I like the idea that magic, stories and curiosities are literally right there in the dust around us...
Pearl
Diamond Lucy
This is Diamond Lucy.
She was part of an exhibition I had at London's Notting Hill Arts Club, which was quite a while ago now!
The director of the club wanted me to create very hard and dark images, which was an interesting exercise. In fact, he felt I could have gone more extreme than I did.
I am aware that 'softer' paintings can be easier to find homes for, yet when you create from your heart, that's not always what comes out.
So you walk a line between what feels 'authentic' and what you think people would like from you.
'Always, always be authentic,' advises my crazy – and successful – friend Mark. 'And you will find your people.'
Pearl
Moon spell
Apparently, something amazing happened in the cosmos yesterday.
'Just absolutely awesome! I mean, beyond any expectations! It was so surreal!' said a woman on the news from Kentucky.
Smothered under under a thick layer of morose cloud, however, the UK didn't get to see much of it. 'Britons left underwhelmed by partial solar eclipse', intoned the glum online headlines.
Even so, it was fun to look at pictures on the internet of crowds of people gazing skywards in their special black googles, having a magical experience.
An eclipse only happens every now and again – but the sun coming up every morning and the stars coming out every night are no less of a magical miracle. It might sound trite but it's true.
I love to look at the moon and always marvel at how beautiful and mysterious it is. No wonder there is so much folklore spun around it.
Below is a commission I undertook a few years ago, called 'Moon Spell'.
Pearl
Do you believe?
'You're reminding me of a drawing, in your black dress... it's from a Roald Dahl book...'
My colleague Romy clicked her fingers as she tried to summon the name of the book. Her eyes brightened. 'The Witches!'
'Oh right,' I said.
'No, no! It's a compliment, definitely a compliment!' said Romy.
We found the drawing, by Quentin Blake, on my phone. I've posted it below.
Later, I looked up Roald Dahl and found this beautiful quote. It is the final line from his last book, The Minpins:
'And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.'
Pearl
Illustration by Quentin Blake
Double-edged sword
'You're about to cut someone's f***ing balls off!'
I had the interesting experience of being photographed for a fashion shoot yesterday, and the director was leaping around in a splendid pair of shoes, shouting directions and inspiration.
I was wielding around a shotgun and an antique sword, dressed in outlandish Victorian-inspired garb, my face daubed in white paint.
Maybe this isn't a good thing – but I can tell you, there is definitely something empowering that comes with brandishing large weapons!
It's made me think about accoutrements of power and the illicit thrill that they can bring.
Perhaps sometimes they are weapons, other times maybe a dog or a mean-looking car, a pair of lethally spiked shoes, a flick of eyeliner...
I was reminded of an old sketch I drew while listening to a track called Swords by Leftfield.
I managed to find it and have posted it below.
Pearl
In and out of the real world
I am going to be doing a little modelling job tomorrow.
Basically, this means I haven't been able to eat anything for about two weeks. But I went to a fitting the other day and all the clothes fit - phew!
The place where the shoot is happening is very magical. You wouldn't even know it's there.
You turn off the main street, and head down a tiny brick alley.
Eventually, you come across an innocuous little door set into a Grafitti-smothered wall.
On the other side of this door is a gorgeous little courtyard and a beautiful house that's full of streaming sunlight, amazing Victorian oddities and endless boxes of fabulous clothes.
Fashion people are very different to theatre people - it's a different kind of creativity, which is interesting to observe. I think it might come down to the fact that fashion people are creating magic that's got to go out into the real world, whereas theatre people are creating magic that's got to pull people in from the real world.
I'll let you know how it goes!
Pearl
Daylight robbery
I've twice now had sandwiches snatched from my hands by the cheeky blighters.
So when I bought myself an ice cream the other day, I held a protective hand over it while scanning the skies above.
Then I noticed someone smirking at me.
Well! Better safe than sorry!!
This is the second piece that I will be entering into the upcoming exhibition at Fitzroy House.
Pearl
Magic ingredient: glitter
Later this week, an art exhibition at my friend Alison's amazing Gothic palace will be opening.
I'm putting in two drawings, both of them beautifully framed by Keizer Frames of Lewes.
This one is called 'Clock Tower Chips' and it features the Brighton clock tower. I saw a girl who looked a bit like this a little while ago.
She was very young but also very confident. I loved the way she had slung together some slightly grubby casual clothes with a pair of glittery stilettos, and was stuffing her face with chips.
Somehow, this seems very 'Brighton'!
Also: you can never have too much glitter.
If you're in Sussex and fancy visiting the exhibition, here are some more details – let me know if you're coming and I'll see if I can meet you there!
https://www.lewesfc.com/post/au2017
Pearl
Dark glamour
Apparently, a full moon was sailing high in the sky.
And La Traviata was rampaging through my skull like a macabre circus.
This beautiful show had been transformed through the lens of fitful sleep into a deliciously ghoulish pantomime.
Freakish party guests pranced past on an endless, delirious merry-go-round.
Their message was clear – would you like to join us?
In the opera's story, they are attending a party which has been thrown by the most popular high-class prostitute in Paris.
They did seem to be having a marvellous time.
Would you?!
Agent hunter
Dear Magic Hunters,
Today I am an Agent Hunter.
This might sound as though I am sneaking around some urban metropolis at dawn in a floor-length leather trench coat, rifle at the ready, while my black Ferrari waits for me by the curb.
But no, not today.
I have been offered an opportunity to co-write and illustrate a kid's book for an Australian violinist – but I need an agent to help me with stuff like contracts!
I thought I would throw this out to you guys, just in case anybody might know of someone who could be interested... feel free to email me for more details if so!
Pearl
It was a remarkable outfit
The zip slid up the back of the dress smoothly and effortlessly, like a knife cutting through cream.
The assistant stepped back, and she leaned forward to examine herself in the dressing room mirror.
She ran a tongue over her teeth – large, even and white. Turquoise eyeshadow glittered when she blinked, heavy eyelashes fluttering like black butterflies.
'You look amazing!' said the assistant.
'Thank you, darling.' She slung out the response with no emotion, apparently without even thinking about it – a casual line she threw over her shoulder.
'They are waiting for you.'
She nodded, and followed the assistant into a long, bare corridor. Naked fluorescent bulbs buzzed overhead as they walked along, her heels ringing out on the concrete floor.
Finally, the assistant turned and pushed open a door marked No Exit.
The roar of a crowd, pressed in around a barrier, blew in like a hurricane.
Her heart was thrumming in her throat, and her veins were pumping with what felt like white ice.
But, regardless, she walked forward and emerged through the doorway. Like jumping into a cold lake, the initial shock wore off as she quickly acclimatised.
Her smile was like the flash of a thousand bulbs. Something about her presence set the air alight with twinkling, wobbling stars as she faced a forest of autograph books and phones thrust out towards her.
'Who shall I make it out to, sweetheart?'
As she took hold of a pen and inclined to hear a name screamed into her ear, she thought about how much more comfortable she would have been in her slippers...
Pearl
Secret world
About a year ago, I discovered a whole new world, right on my doorstep.
I'd kind of forgotten about it until I found this photo in my phone.
I had given into my night owl tendency, and worked through until around 4am. Looking up, I'd noticed daylight was already creeping in through the curtains, and so, not quite ready to go to bed, I decided to go for a walk.
Outside, I was amazed to find myself an intruder – an unwanted outsider – in a pre-dawn land that belonged to the birds.
The cacophony of their song was incredible. From every rooftop and branch, it seemed, there was an amazing singer working hard to outdo his neighbour.
Birds was strolling in crowds across the roads or hopping about on car bonnets with the kind of brazen confidence you never see in daylight hours. They threw me dirty looks and cracked jokes about humans.
It was wonderful and magical. But as the sun peeped over the horizon and a few other lone people began to appear, the secret night magic began to fade... until next time.
Pearl
