http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:Vikkki&section=today deviantART RSS for by:Vikkki en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Tue, 22 Dec 2009 02:31:53 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/28954628/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/28954628/ Tue, 15 Dec 2009 02:54:21 PST
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]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/23551791/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/23551791/ Fri, 06 Mar 2009 05:02:52 PST The Affair
Closer than a close shave they tangoed in the lambent night, not listening to the warnings silently given by the stoney stares of gargoyles, or the sad lonely hoot of an owl, far from home. They only had eyes and ears for each other, sweetly saccharin, LAUGHABLE. The dark canals, black deep and stenching, holding secrets and never giving them up, seem to pull them closer, with a sense of melancholy. Weeds cling to ancient buildings, stone worn and discoloured by the constant lap of the water. Once she was a strong-minded, independent woman, harsh views of the world given to her by cruel experience. But now she dances, unashamed, uncaring, just willing to give herself over to instinct. She laughs childlike and feels as free as the bird, whose feathers she craves so deeply. The gold-flecked bird whose beak cannot smile, whose eyes cannot show any depth of feeling or emotion. Yet he can dance in such a magnificent way and she holds him to her chest like a treasure. They walk now, over bridges whose railings gesticulate danger, but her one unmasked eye is downcast, fixated on the amber light which is cast from the moon. Her lashes gleam in it’s reflection, she looks inward. The smell of the canal is ranker here, again hinting at sunken victims and past conquests. It rides up the nostril and is CHOKING, yet she smells only the sweetness of the stench. Her one un-shielded eye looks up to his, but can see only blackness, a so deep chasm which can tell her nothing. But he can fly when he gently flaps his wings. LOOK LOOK, he is so hypnotic. She wants him to carry her away from these dark dark allies. He turns sharply, his sharp beak so close it could cut and break her soft white skin like paper. She laughs again and still doesn’t see the danger, only the excitement and with that farewell to boredom, day to day existence, watching clock faces, going nowhere. Life can never be the same for her now, she can never go back to that monotony. Yet now, can she fly? Will he take her along on those high distant journeys? Can she now achieve those ideals she believed in and craved when once as a small child she dreamed without suppression. Once adult-cursed the dreams began to fade and reality took her, halting her ambition and leaving her grounded and dream-less. But this now, this fated meeting, the coincidence, it must mean something. To be ripped from a mundane life and given a chance to experience magic – the way she’d always imagined it, when her guard was down and her eyes would cloud with daydream. He stretches, his wings gleaming in the streetlight, his beak glinting darkly and his claws clutching impatiently. He takes her tiny waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. They sigh and watch the moon’s reflection flickering gently on the syrupy water. ‘Can we fly?’ she asks, her words echo echo through the deserted buildings. ‘Can we fly?’ she asks, looping the echo and filling the air with her question. He nuzzles closer, ignoring words which for him have no meaning, but enjoying the sound they make in the emptiness. Frustrated she pulls away, needing to be recognized and demanding a reaction. He clasps her wrist, claws scratching, a bead of blood. She shouts, an anger building, unnoticed before but always lurking, existing in the gut and brooding there. As it emerges, her ears begin to acknowledge the sounds around her, the dying echo, the owl, screaming a warning TOO LATE he seems to cry. Her one eye opens fully and behind her mask she sees too darkly. She tears the mask from her face, it falls to beautiful fragments in her hand, feathers float in tiny motes on the air. Her darkened eye clears and at last she sees the signs around her – gargoyles, solemn-faced, water, buildings – deserted. And HIM – fully costumed and terrifying. Her nose clears and she almost FAINTS from the acrid back of the throat assault – stagnant water, pigeon-feather DIRT. She turns to run, but he’s there in front of her, anticipating her every move. The gold is running down his mask, pooling like blood, fake gold FOOL’S gold can’t resist the rain which now pours from the sky, fresh water merging with the stagnant canal. He pulls her closer, every second she gets closer to the sharp beak, knowing now that he will do her wrong unless she can somehow escape his clutches. HOW did I get here? She wails and tears begin at last to pour from her eyes, washing a trail of gold mascara down her cheeks and dripping onto her dress. At the end he speaks, his voice bird-like and weak DIDN’T YOU WANT TO FLY? He laughs, but the sound seems to catch in his throat. Her gold-smeared face is INCH close to his dagger beak when she digs in her heels and they freeze for a second. With all her strength she PUSHES and watches him fall into the canal.
His wings drag him heavily down.

]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/17618334/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/17618334/ Tue, 01 Apr 2008 02:11:11 PDT
]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/17618151/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/17618151/ Tue, 01 Apr 2008 01:55:22 PDT Is there an edge of stress to my writing?!

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]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/15705694/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/15705694/ Wed, 28 Nov 2007 10:35:09 PST The new picture is A3, and the quality is not that good as I had to photograph it (my scanner's only A4).

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]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/15023774/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/15023774/ Fri, 12 Oct 2007 02:22:45 PDT My mind is full of ideas; but I need to carefully balance digital art (which I'm fairly new at, and not very clever either!) and traditional art (which I'm sure is my way forward). I just need time to build my ideas into reality - and of course, I have very little of that. Probably should get off the computer then!

]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/14737947/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/14737947/ Sat, 22 Sep 2007 03:26:16 PDT On a more personal level, I have a dreadful hangover - so if this is a bit fragmented . . . .

]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/14625610/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/14625610/ Fri, 14 Sep 2007 02:40:59 PDT By the time she was 17 she had seen every pub and club in the city and it was TIRED. The monotonous comings and goings, the brush that she was tarred with, no hope, no promise JADED. What more did life have to offer? Man after man after man . . . no knight in shining armour. The fantasies of here inner mind crashed against the grim reality. Every possibility ran dry and she was sick of making the effort. Yet night after night she dragged her weary body round seedy dives, wishing for a glimmer, a touch of excitement, a gift in the darkness. How strangely sad it makes her feel to look back on those days. Melancholy touched with nostalgia for the innocence and naivity within her youth – now lost, but somehow still buried within. The lines on her face testify to the times she had and bear witness to the rigours. But somehow her life rolls round and round in cycles, each etching another story. The love and mystery she used to hold so dear have become replaced by cynicism. Bitter scathing cold rage SMOKING her cancerous cigarette she SUCKS on the dry rot, turning positivity into a nonsense – and leaving here sobbing and screeching for some solace. She wonders about the point of it all? Is there such thing as KARMA – or are there no rules, chaos rules. The sad figure packs up her bag and slowly leaves the room, hoping still so pathetically to be noticed. But noone cares – everyone has their own cross to bear and who wants to hear the ramblings of a washed-out middle-aged woman? Adolescent concerns in her 40s. Her face is a canvas . . . .

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]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/14145268/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/14145268/ Mon, 13 Aug 2007 07:48:38 PDT Oh, and it's my 40th bloody birthday next Monday. I'm having a party to drown my sorrows on Saturday - I will try to put a photo on from that, if I'm sober enough!

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]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/13720229/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/13720229/ Fri, 13 Jul 2007 11:58:44 PDT I'm going away for the weekend, for my dad's 70th birthday party - lots of food, alcohol and smoking (well, that's just me!). Back on Sunday . . . .

]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/13620277/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/13620277/ Thu, 05 Jul 2007 11:26:56 PDT Oh, and it's still raining . . . . ]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/13550449/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/13550449/ Sat, 30 Jun 2007 10:30:38 PDT For anyone who's in the uk - Blimey, will it ever stop raining??? It feels like the great flood!!
Oh yeh, and tomorrow the ban on smoking in public places comes into effect. Talk about Big Brother (orwell, not TV). You can't even smoke at a bus stop or open-air train station. This makes me nervous - not on a personal level, as I'm only a casual smoker, but for the future . . . . And anyway, it's only a diversion, to make people avoid looking at the bigger issues, like proper pollution. Heaven forbid anyone critisize cars or planes!
Rant rant rant rant rant - god, I need a cigarette now - better not go outside!!! (ominous laughter!).

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]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/12650373/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/12650373/ Thu, 19 Apr 2007 03:33:01 PDT
The Crow and The Moon
THIS is the beginning of the cautionary tale of how the crow flew too close to the moon and lost his urge to return. He was a handsome fellow, all BLUE BLACK raven-coated, with cherry-BLACK eyes and feathers of precious gem-stones. He would spend his days BOASTING and preening his beautiful self. Consequently nobody took any notice of him. He was ridiculed and bullied by every bird he met. As with most creatures who have themselves at the centre of their own universe, our crow did not even notice and continued in exactly the same way as usual. UNTIL one day when he met the most beautiful crow in the WORLD. She was the personification of beauty and our crow fell MADLY in love with her. He wanted her to notice him – but while she couldn’t fail to see how handsome he was, she was repulsed by his VULGAR self-infatuation. She refused his attentions – ignoring him pointedly – until he was quite DESPERATE. He begged, he IMPLORED her to tell him how he could make her take him seriously. But all she would tell him was to leave her alone and fly to the moon. Well, our crow was so obsessed by her that he determined to fly to the moon, just to prove his seriousness. So one night he said goodbye to the earthly world he lived in and began his long journey to the heaven above. Up and up and UP he flew, ever looking forwards to the silvery moon. The closer he got the heavier his body began to feel and he realised that he would not be able to reach his shining goal unless he lightened his load somehow. And so he loosened his beak and threw it down as a TOKEN of his love to her. This helped a great deal and he resumed his journey, feeling re-energised and lightened. But as the hours passed by he began to feel more tired and the weight of his body began to slow him down again. He decided to take off his clawed feet – the talons were weighing him down. He dropped these down to his would-be lover as a TOKEN of his devotion to her. By this time the moon was getting much closer and the crow felt a surge of energy as he approached his goal. The MOON winked at him shyly and smile a happy greeting. So close now – but still not there and once again the crow began to tire. He felt heavier and heavier with each flap of the wing. So he decided to loosen his WINGS and send them back to his darling crow. DOWN they fluttered towards the earth. But what now – how could he go any further without wings? The moon decided to exert herself and pulled him towards her with her gravity. What a beautiful crow, she said – and they were happy. THE END

]]> ~Vikkki http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/12245497/ http://Vikkki.deviantart.com/journal/12245497/ Mon, 19 Mar 2007 13:59:07 PDT Self-Portrait past and future
THIS said the girl as she turned to me with a smile IS the only way to be truly free. I frowned at her with no comprehension. HA – always this reaction – but really, you should try it. Be LIBERATED, understand your destiny and leave the rest ROTTING. Who cares about Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, bloody J Lo, animal skinning bitch from the block. Glossy magazines reflect my non-glossy skin – make me feel FAT UGLY unsuccessful. Rip out the pages to make a composit killer. Unstaple belly staples to make me KATE MOSS – or Victoria Beckham 2 bloody minutes after giving birth, photo’d in a BIKINI. Scream messages into young girls’ minds – YOU should be like THIS. Skinny young dripping-rich – under no circumstances honest. We want to know but not the TRUTH. We need lies lies lies lies lies and superficial crap to keep the world a simple place where no-one DIES except in GLORIOUS TRAGEDY. TV images project onto the walls of our lives and we repeat copy and try try try to be like them; ICONS of emptiness. Altars to celebrity and prayers for wealth, which we know can only make sense in the material world. But it makes us feel safe and we crave the security, knowing that ultimately we all end up in the same place. The fear keeps us low and uninspired. But not me anymore. The girl laughed – a clear, uncompromised sound, free of pretension or self-doubt. But how do I begin? I asked – myself the opposite to her clarity. I WILL whisper you a secret – a secret you are free to pass on . . . . And this she did and with one more dazzling smile she put her face back on and became her normal familiar self. She winked at me before turning to the cameras.
I’m ready for my close-up now . . . .

]]> ~Vikkki