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lores of the land

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aimee @ FIRST styled by my faerie faye heran, for noctis magazine; hair and make-up by ann-marie lawson; assisted by manisha patel, alexander picard, and naomi oliver. special thank you to my sunflower, nicholas hayward, for endless support and magical spirit.

the angel keeper

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the keeper of angels was once an angel herself, gifted her righteous powers to protect those who protected the earth. the blood underneath her flesh was fashioned from a concoction of rubies, she wore them around her neck as if a daemon had slit her throat.

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my beautiful cat lane, my own guardian, shot for my book.

the moon's first lover, and other tales



for the past number of months, i have been collecting and creating work for my first book. a story book, a collection of tales, that is written, photographed, illustrated, printed, bound, and embellished by myself. it features stories behind my photographs that i have never released in full, and acts, in part, as a retrospect into the work i have created prior to turning twenty. it is one of a kind, ready for exhibition; my spell book.

I-XIV

I.
when lavender was a young girl, she said many dirty words. her mother held her jaw open wide and forced a hatching songbird behind her teeth, down her throat.

as lavender grew, the songbird grew. every choking word, now a sweet song.

at nighttime the bird made a nest of dried webs in lavender’s lungs, and she coughed and writher in her sweat soaked sheets. lavender had not slept for many years.

the webs from her lungs grew out of her skin like blossom; first they tied her wrists together, then her ankles, finally her eyelids. still, she did not sleep.

the songbird grew a family, and the webbed girl shrieked behind their song.

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II.
sever: my heart from your arms. dear one, let me be a tumour on your wing, a feasting cancer.

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III.
the hares are lulling me in an orchestra of shrieks. lover will not let me float; only drown, only drown my seaweed skin under his hands.

tou turn my veins to coral; and, as sleeping moths do, they become dust.

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IV.
pretty little creature, don’t you step on the cracks. your noose is made from willow, melting softly into wax.

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V.
under water; under you.

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VI.
dear Violet, daughter, lying disjointed in the brambles; i hope that your purpose skin was painted onto you. flora, as you gorge your moist tongue upon blackberries. fauna use your starlight skin for warmth, digging twigs underneath your fingernails to keep your arms standing, (insects use them as bridges as they crawl from dandelion to dandelion). so long, and farewell.

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VII.
demure little river girl dreams elixirs of blood; bones melting softly into the mud.

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VIII.
i am drowning into you, lovelight.

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IX.
wandering blossom breaks from her roots, crow holds crow, a rape by the lake; pussy willow, sunflowers braiding, kiss-me-over-the-garden-gate.

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X.
bluebird awakes blinded, brushed with cobwebs like drowning in water.

spirit peaks as bluebird’s bones, for bluebird is filled with nightmares that grow on her flesh like tumours, (‘i searched for the cure, with a witch, in the south, but found the answers hiding in your mouth’). bluebird only sees shadows, but sometimes by moon would dance for him in his darkness.

one night, spirit (crow) became too tired to peck at bluebird’s nightmares any longer, and so the dreams engorged themselves on his organs.

they burst through his ribs, through his skin, through his feathers. Swarming insects, they destroyed the night sky.

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XI.
bluebird bites lover’s heart, lover bites his tongue.

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XII.
the sky people had their homes interwoven into their skulls. a castle blacker from the crow king’s feathers, a treehouse built in an ancient oak, butterfly for an eye. oil and bark protruding from bone.

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XIII.
sir, please do not watch the birds as they weep, you are the reason i can not sleep.

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XIV.
'i can give you majesty', and he stitched a rusted crown to the swan's bleeding scalp.

vanitas

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beautiful kit alexander @ models 1, styled by my faerie faye heran for SYN magazine. set design by myself, make-up and hair by lesley vye, styling assistance by rebecca wallace and trishla chadha. special thanks to erika shiotsu.

for fire, for woe

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eight year-old nancy orchis-evans plays my little matchstick girl. costuming by jackalopeland.

earth blood

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the veins of the earth connect like a river to the heart of one girl.

she bore fungus from the blood, which carried the colts and the scent of the dust.

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my dear ella rose as the earth's blood; all set and headpiece design by myself.

my dear mary stole a rose

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thank you to my dream team, for creating with me: my muse, gemma, wears lingerie designed and made by yelena buck, and head dresses designed and made by harriet parry. hair and make-up by ali convery.

'blossom, my darling'

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muse, gemma, for aimee marie jackson's 2013 collection lookbook. hair and make-up by ali convery, styling by olivia wright.

the passing of a siren

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thank you to dear rosalie, sing your siren's song. thank you to amber scarlett for make-up, hair, and for making the wire crown and cape. corsets and skirts by rinaree, styled and supplemented by myself.

dear ghosts that sing, to the ghost of the king

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dearest gemma for KNEON magazine, styled by olivia wright with hair and make-up by siobhan drew.