Cat doing his shopping.

Came across this cat at the garden centre, perhaps having a rest from his catnip shopping or something?

If he's after that sofa he'd better hurry, it's the last one.

I want Tintin's job and the PHWOAR HORSE.

The very beautiful and sensitive new film; War Horse. Not a romance, or a bromance, but a whoooa-mance!

Come on, now that is what I call a passionate stare... I'm sorry. The trailer was supposed to make me cry wasn't it. Why can't I watch anything without somehow turning it into bizarre smut?

Take 'The Adventures of Tintin' for example!

I don't know if I was just in a funny mood or if I'm going a bit strange, but on a second viewing it seemed a rather homoerotic film. Oh dear. Aaand I'm fifteen again. Fanfiction.com beckons...

It's also very confusing. How old is Tintin even supposed to be? One minute he looks "abaht twelv" and basically dresses like a schoolboy, the next minute he has his own flat, his own dog, buys antiques, carries a gun and can fly a plane. WHAAAT. I guess I just want to know if he's jailbait or not (for goodness sake calm down, he's not even REAL).

And what is Tintin's job exactly? He just noses into other people's lives and gets into scrapes, rather like the Famous Five. I want to be a journalist/reporter/thing if it's anything like that! Maybe I should just get a job writing bad fanfiction, if such a career option exists.

Do I even have a job yet? I have an interview next week actually. I'm excited.

Hair dying adventures.

As illustrated by the lovely Sheryl Lee (playing Laura Palmer and her cousin Maddy respectively), I've dyed my hair and I'm like a TOTALLY different person!

I am now a serious brunette...ish.

Scary Lincoln.

A few tourist snaps from my day at Lincoln Cathedral and Castle! As usual, when I actually see things I want to photograph, I find I've forgotten my Lumix camera and end up using the Cyber-shit mobile. Oh well.

I'd forgotten how much I like Lincoln as a city, with it's sickening little craft shops and folky-wolky vibe. Trying to think up excuses to move there. It would be nice to become a street busker or something, but they have about fifty already.

ONLY BY DAYLIGHT.

I don’t usually buy a book based on it’s cover, but this is an exception!

Michael Powell film appreciation.

Stills from director Michael Powell. Black Narcissus, The Thief of Bagdad and The Red Shoes respectively. 

I'm a sucker for camp technicolour, but these are all worth checking out for sheer beauty. They will make your eyeballs tingle! One is about nuns, one is about Bagdad and one is about a pair of magical ballet shoes. But don't let that put you off.

Cinematographer Jack Cardiff needs a mention here, seeing as it's his input that makes Narcissus and Shoes such incredible eye-candy. For some reason the horror film Suspiria comes to mind? All the colours, shadows and mad angles mmm.

Powell has a wide selection of films under his belt (still need to watch Peeping Tom at some point) but these three appeal to me most I guess.

Thief of Bagdad used to be my one of my faves when I was little, mostly down to the horrifying giant spider bit.

Blogging versus Tumblelogging.

Quite like this blogging lark. It's probably a phase, but it's an enjoyable one. Brushing the tricky concept of putting everything you ever thought/said/did all over the internet, for everyone, forever, everywhere.

All internet publishing could be interpreted as attention-seeking to a degree, in particular blogging perhaps, but I think I mostly post interesting things... THOUGH I SAY SO MYSELF!

But. "Which is better, Blogger or Tumblr?"

I use Tumblr more, with about 20 posts opposed to just 9 on Blogger. But that's the difference between them for me; Tumblr is the scrapbook where you scribble thoughts and collect pictures and go this is good, look at this thing I've found. Blogger is better for traditional blogging (no shit Sherlock), recording things that YOU have made or done, taking the time to write more than a few words. Like a secret diary, one that everyone with a computer can look at.

If you remember learning about primary and secondary sources in English, it's something like that I guess.

Personally I use Blogger for posting original images or pieces of writing that I consider good enough to stand alone. I filter what is 'worthy'. Tumblr is more about sharing; it gets everything my Blogger does, and then some.

The platforms themselves?

Blogger's control panel does not seem to occupy the rules of logic, time or space. And the interface is UGLY. But it has been around longer, is less pretentious, has a simple archiving system with TITLES and I can usually expect to find focused, original, quality work on there. It is however rumoured to be changing it's name to "Google Blogs", which sounds absolutely disgusting and I will probably leave.

Tumblr is gorgeous, busy and fluid. Busy as in you leave it for a day and you have a bagillion notifications saying who has reblogged your blog. Reblogging and recycling is not frowned upon on Tumblr, infact most people's archives are filled with content they've found elsewhere. More quantity than quality? It also crashed my internet browser, but works like a dream with Google Chrome. Oh the irony.

Oh well, fact is I can't choose. They're both good in their own way and they both keep me writing and my brain working. It's probably a bit unhealthy actually, I've got to the point where I sleep with my notepad.

That's my input, now back to spooky pictures I've found and stoopid dreams I've had.

http://nataliesarthouse.tumblr.com

Joel-Peter Witkin and Shintaro Kago.

I was going to keep these pictures and mini-reviews on just my Tumblr, but what the hell! Figured if I actually express some opinion and it's not just a reblog I can post it here tooooo.

I was first introduced to artist Joel-Peter Witkin at college. I’ve never quite forgotten his photographs.

Sorry if you’re eating your lunch!

Tumblr’s more grusome than I expected, you can’t go anywhere without coming face-to-face with somebody’s corpse. I do think Witkin’s pictures are beautiful though.

And have some of this...

Rather enjoying Shintaro Kago’s work. Only just come across him, have I had my head down a hole you ask? Haaa.

I do use Tumblr for things other than finding nightmare fuel, honest.

Dreams where you think you're onto a winning idea for a TV series.

And then you wake up and think "actually, that was crap and a bit weird". Had one of these this morning. Just to clarify, I'm not a closet furry or a Naruto enthusiast. Don't worry it's not that bad.

I was a half-human, half-fox member of a fighting team (second thoughts, it IS that bad). There were four of us and we dressed like Little Mix from X-Factor.

We basically walked through a generic anime countryside picking fights with other teams. 

These included the 'Cats Quintet', who were five tiny, plump cats with scarily good acrobatic skills. And the 'Superior Seven' who were badgers with fans who all moved as one organism.  

I'm expecting there was a 'Secret Six' in there, y'know, the token mysterious nemesis of the series. 

In my dream I remember thinking, "YES, I have just created the best thing since Pokemon. This will be on t-shirts and lunch boxes and have all sorts of cards and stuff".

And then I woke up. Thinking WHY.

Liquid nostalgia.

BYE BYE LIQUID.

It's been ages since I braved your alcopop/piss flooded dancefloor, and you were pretty horrible. But part of me died a bit inside when I heard you were closing. Oh there you are, right next to Wilkos.

Mansfield's not exactly incredible, but I've got this nostalgic fondness for my foundation year at college there. It was amazing to learn techniques for the first time and to watch the people around you grow as artists. One minute we were doing A4 pencil drawings, the next we were projecting our contorted faces onto slabs of meat. Well I was anyway. But you could just feel how enthusiastic everyone was; it was close, intense, small enough that we all knew eachother.

Looking back, the amount of support and advice we received was invaluable. It was all Svankmajer and Cunningham and joyously smashing down our boundaries with a giant jam-smeared haddock. I don't think I've ever been more excited about art, I probably churned out more work in that year than in my whole time at university. Not that I didn't enjoy my degree! It was just a different feel.

And on a good few Friday mornings we'd stagger into college, unwashed and hungover, from our 'mad night out' (look above at that, we were bloody MAD I tell you, and it was 2008?) at Liquid.

BAAAWWWW. Oh shut up.

It can't have been that good, really? It's weird how memory works. Here's a great bit of writing I found about nostalgia in the exhibition 'Past, Referenced' by Linda Hollaway and Jackie Cheetham.

Golly.

Nostalgia is also a perfume.

An art nightmare. Artmare.

It's some kind of art exam, an important one that I don't want to mess up. For reasons unknown it's being held on a school playing field at a kind of sports day event.

I have made this huge, dumb installation that resembles a cross between one of those children's 'fun houses' and a mini-golf course. It's all made out of chipboard and artificial grass and is surrounded by a net cage.

I have absolutely no idea why I made it, it's falling to pieces, half-arsed and probably unfinished. I get the feeling it was one of those 'seemed hilarious at the time' ideas.

Some of my old art tutors are discussing it, they think it's terrible and use long words that I'm not sure even exist. I feel ashamed that I've not researched art theory/history more, but retaliate saying I've heard other people say they loved it for the same reasons they hated it.

I think earlier I'd spoken to one of my old English tutors or something, but I don't remember the positive comments.

Anyway, I don't convince them, or myself. I shrug my shoulders, walk away, give one last look at the audience of the sports day event. I take a long run across the grass and transform into a bright red paper plane, then take off.

Have quite a few of these, when I'm not dreaming about trains going into tunnels and white snakes!