embroider me

embroider me

sun bleached and guilt edged, scattered with crystals, 

embroider me 

with pearls and distress

12.28.2014 Comments: 0

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JANE DOES - Martina Wallin Photography

JANE DOES - Martina Wallin Photography

Martina Wallin Photography is on the map again

Collaboration with Jane Does 

and Julia Andersson!

7.28.2014 Comments: 0

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The slant. The lux. The glam opulence.

The slant. The lux. The glam opulence.

Photography - Sebastian Gaspar
Hair - Francisco Dumit
Makeup - Chema Muñoz

White and Cream dreamlike shots from about a month ago along with some random sleepy wordiness scribbled on the nightstand next to my bed from last nights dream, by me...

The slant. The lux. The glam opulence.

Decisive distance.

A change of focus. Correct chromatic. Lips

in lurid berry tones.

The admiring the view. The hoarse and veiled inquiries,

Of 'How do you do’s..?’

martina wallin writing

7.26.2014 Comments: 0

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The Gypsies Are Here. Eyes The Colour Of Stars.

The Gypsies Are Here. Eyes The Colour Of Stars.

On Friday Daddy cuts the lawn/...But the gypsies are coming and his daughter is thirteen.

Come pony tail, come pony. Come higher, come hell. 

To honour. To mock. To fear. To hate. To be fascinated. To laugh out loud. 

The Gypsies Are Here. Eyes The Colour Of Stars. Dressed in history.

from The Green Man

Jeanette Winterson

7.15.2014 Comments: 0

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Not far from my family home...

Not far from my family home...

Not far from my family home there is a Siamese tree. It came from one seed but divided into two stems. I do not know for how long this one-divided-tree has been standing there. However I do know that the two halves formed a unison and fooled pass byers with a perfectly shaped crown so that their aberration was concealed. This year upon my yearly return to Sweden, as I strolled the gloomy landscape upon the graveled pathway, barely separated by the fields, I saw that one of the two halves is dying. And with its death the symmetry of its abnormality is ultimately revealed.

I marvel at the dying half, and somewhat it saddens me, while secretly I wonder, what of next year? - If the living half will bloom and overgrow the deceased? - If it will enclose the stiffening twigs with new live branches and hide the darkening flaking bark with sprouting green leaves? Or if it will stand in an everlasting withering embrace, and once again seem whole, only within death...?

randomly scribbled thoughts

and observations

by me

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