Collection of printed Kimonos by me. Neoprene material sponsered by Speedo.
Yellow one is a UV Print onto neoprene avec tassells. Blue Long Kimono is digitally printed, fused onto neoprene and embroidered. Clown-tastic sleeved Kimono is digitally printed and quilted for your majesty. Additional fashion pieces- laser cut gold foiled neoprene, rope and laser cut acrylic.
Who’d have thunk the white rat from the donkey village would have trekked along parched mountains of goats and boars to a land of pigeons and grey concrete to eventually fulfill the dream and graduate with a first class honours 8 years later?
4 years of education later, and I’m still non the wiser. I’d like to say in my last year I finally pulled my shit together and aimed for the stars in an almighty sprouting of confidence but instead derailed along the way into the usual self loathing state wishing I could just believe my poo really did smell of roses. From upholstered furniture to 3D sculpture to Fashion garments, the identity crisis goes on and my sketchbook reflects that well. Ups and downs, smiles and frowns, swings and roundabouts and all those annoying sayings my boss says, in the end I tried to accept my traits and “ride the wave man”. I realised the ebbs and flows of my project make sense now, and may even believe I have pulled something off to be proud of and that even my fabric pervert of a Dad is impressed by.
Photos: My own
Visual/ initial ideas for my final year project. Subjects around indulgence and beauty.
The look could never be achieved by no other but the wonderful and weird Hope.
[Colour 35mm film. Canon] Me and Curly’s trip to Seville for Semana Santa. Amazing food, heated arguments by the rivers edge, young boys in strange high socks. Rich women with plaited belts and high telephone bills, just marmalade on toast please.
Next stop Jimena donkey land to go see my family. We got the mardiest bitter bus driver on the ride back, no toilet on board so the toilet ended up being a plastic smoothie cup, water bottle and unfortunately the bus seats and Tom’s crotch.
We watched the silent procession, a very beautiful and dark experience- just as Jesus passed my line of vision, my dad muttered his usual offensive one liner in my airspace, just enough for me to choke a little on the calamari remnants in my throat. We rejoined the table, scattered with fish of every kind, in warm company of 10 children a few adults and even Minnie the dog.