UPDATE: ILLUSTRATION!

Hello all,

I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that I've been pretty inactive on Kitt The Britt over the last little while (boo hoo), but that's because I've been working on a rather exciting new project (yay yay)!

Approaching the end of my four year Bachelor degree, I'm turning my thoughts towards the future in the hope of answering the big "what next?" question. I have always known I want to do something very creative and I've reached the point of deciding that I want to try my hand at a career in illustration. I'm currently trying to establish an online presence as an illustrator, and the other week launched a blog solely for my illustrations and artwork. So, at the risk of sounding a bit cheeky, I invite you to go and check it out - if only to see my excuse for not posting on here for a while.

I'd love to hear what you think of my work at eleanorreeshowell.blogspot.com :)

Love,
Kitt xx

A FRINGE AFFAIR

A short and sweet post today (you can always tell I'm busy when a post only has one lonely photograph) because I've hit the ground running at Uni. Going into fourth year has been a similar experience to that Ice Bucket Challenge doing the rounds on the internet - I've been hit with a rush of readings and assignments and major projects all at once and have been left reeling, a little giddily, with shock. Now I'm into week two I can hopefully start to sort through the chaotic tangle of due dates and exams and settle in.

The Saturday before I went back to campus I booked myself a very impulsive hair appointment and, an hour later, exited the salon with a fringe. I'd been feeling very apathetic towards my limp, straggly locks and was inspired by the likes of French beauties Marion Cotillard and Louise Bourgoin to go for a more gamine look. I now look a bit like me circa 2007 - surely after seven years I'd look older?! I've been desperate to attempt an Audrey-style 60's beehive this past week, and have been looking at Carrie's tutorial for tips. I even watched Breakfast at Tiffany's last night - I don't think I'll be able to resist the hive for much longer!

Oh, and cue the cheering: yesterday I passed my driving test! Driving has always been a real fear of mine and I've put off learning for years. I'd always believed I'd fail the test several times before passing and yet yesterday I somehow passed on my first try. The test itself was horrific: the examiner was awful and kept clapping her hands and snapping at me to pick up my speed, and so by about five minutes in I was absolutely convinced I'd failed. When, therefore, she turned to me at the end of the test and told me I'd passed, I literally could not believe it. I went on not believing it for at least two hours until about mid-afternoon when I hopped into the car for a little solo drive and it hit me - I passed! So that's a MAJOR life achievement for me - it still feels quite surreal.

Short post at an end, I'll banish myself back to my mountain of Uni work. *silently sobs*

Kitty xx

KITT || JOY || JOSIE

Hannah Joy // Jo Josie 

In front of the towering spires of King's College there is a long, low wall dividing the striped lawn and the much-trod cobblestones of King's Parade. When lunch hour strikes in Cambridge, England, students and workers alike pour out on the streets with their salads and their sandwiches, all ready to jostle for a seat on the wall. It was during one such lunch hour a few months ago in May that I found myself sitting between two of my favourite women, my best friend and my closest cousin. I was visiting England for the first time in two years, and we were spending the day together shopping and chatting and drinking double-choc-chip Starbucks frappuccinos, having taken the Park-n-Ride into the city centre. The best friend Hannah had just graduated from Uni and was preparing for a two-month trip to South Africa with her husband. The closest cousin Jo was beginning to show her baby bump, getting ready with her husband to become first-time parents. We sat on that long, low wall between King's college and King's parade and as we sat we talked about our lives, past, present and future. We played that game, that 'who would have believed this is how our lives were turning out' game that involves lots of nostalgic reminiscing and imagining future children. And we decided that one day in the future we would go back to that wall together and eat lunch, and this next time perhaps another one of us would be pregnant and we'd be walking with baby buggies and little ones in tow.

There's just one year between the three of us, and yet somehow all of our lives are running very different courses. Different places, different stages...

And so, without any further ado, I present a blogging collaboration. The three of us are leading such different lives, and so here on the blog Hannah and Jo will give us snapshots of the details of their day-to-day experiences. Look out for some collaborative posts, occasional musings, and (in the very near future) a newborn baby girl!

Oh, and as I go by Kitty on the blog, it seemed only fitting that Hannah and Jo get pseudonyms too. Kitty is my middle name, so Hannah will appear as her middle name Joy, and Jo as her nickname Josie.

Watch this space for some KITT || JOY || JOSIE posts coming your way.

Kitty xx

BETTER THINGS ARE COMING

I've been rather down-in-the-dumps lately. Perhaps I should blame it on the colder than usual summer, or the fact that I miss the mental stimulation University brings, or even my recent lack of social life, but my mood seems to perpetually hover somewhere in the region of BLAH. Apathy has apparently become my middle name and the amount of time I'm spending in my pyjamas will attest to that. I'm learning in my life, however, that the little things have the biggest consequences. Trying to focus on the small purposeful good things I can do in my day really does make a difference to my overall mood, and so today I created a little happiness to-do list for myself:

1 // Clean my room (again)
2 // Enjoy a sweet, sweet peach and a crispy apple
3 // Paint my finger nails an eye-popping shade of lilac
4 // Write an uplifting quote on my chalkboard
5 // Browse Boden's beautiful clothes (if ever a brand represented my personal style, this is it)
6 // Play Duffy on the iPod dock and put those 60's vibes on loudspeaker
7 // Text a friend to arrange a future hangout
8 // Write more of my children's story
9 // Have a slice of Mum's homemade Victoria Sponge cake
10 // Take advantage of today's surprisingly hot weather and go for a swim

Small, simple things, and none of them particularly life-changing, but what I'm beginning to understand is that a big life change is made out of little moments.

So yes, while I am still in my pyjamas, I'm trusting that better things are coming.

Kitty xx

THE PERKS OF BEING TIDY

// NOTE TO SELF // Yes, being disorganized and messy and cluttered is one of the side effects of having the disorganized, messy, cluttered creative mind. But no, leaving dirty clothes in a pile in the middle of your room will not make you feel better. Neither will an eternally unmade bed. And that mountainous heap of sketchbooks and handouts and bank statements on your desk? That won't go away just by wishing. There's a shoe organizer in your wardrobe: please use it instead of littering your shoes here there and everywhere. And while we're on the topic of wardrobes - why don't you just close the doors, instead of having to stare at the nuclear bomb explosion that is your collection of clothes? You might also want to put your makeup away after doing your face: it might mean not having to dig around for your foundation and your mascara and your blusher and every single item of makeup you need every single morning. You could also start using your wastepaper bin - just saying. And open your blinds during the day so that the place looks less like Gollum's cave. Consider tidying as you go instead of hanging around for the monthly deep clean. Yes, I know I tell you this every single time you have to have a mammoth de-clutter. Yes, I know that you set goals and decide that this will be the last time it gets this bad, but maybe you could consider actually following through with that vow? Just an idea. No pressure. You'll thank me for it, though. 

Kitty xx

A RUBY RED SUMMER

Readers, meet my sister Ruby. Yes, this doe-eyed wisp of loveliness really does exist and, yes, I'm lucky enough to be related her. I begged and begged this girl to let me take a few pictures of her this afternoon, and finally (albeit begrudgingly) she let me drag her to an old mill by our house and get snap-happy. I quite frankly could not get over how divine she looks in these photos (can you believe I took these on my phone?!) and I've been ooh-ing and ahh-ing all the way home.

Earlier this summer, Ruby went on a volunteer charity trip to Haiti and returned with gold-streaked hair and a camera full of photos. She's spent the subsequent weeks swimming, walking, getting sunburnt and tickling her kitten Charlie's stripy belly. From her freckled nose to her painted toenails, Ruby lives and breathes summer and I hope in this smattering of photographs I've managed to capture it.

Bring a little more zest to your summer by ensuring that you're following Ruby's five must do's:

1 // Eat your weight in watermelon.

2 // Ride a bike fast enough to feel the wind through your hair.

3 // Have a BBQ at least once a week.

4 // Become half-mermaid and live in the pool as much as possible.

5 // Plant and nurture a vegetable patch.

Happy August!

Kitty (& Ruby) xx

STOP TAKING PICTURES AND LIVE IN THE MOMENT

In my very limited experience, having a blog makes one suddenly very conscious of one's plans and appearance: "Oooh, off somewhere picturesque, will make a good blog post, must take camera, best make sure hair and makeup and outfit are perfect, no pictures from that angle please, oh that's unattractive, delete, yes a pose like this thank you very much, and now a close up, let's make everything look as beautiful as possible, fingers crossed it doesn't look too staged..." 

I mean, blog posts aren't completely natural. I like beautiful things and that's nothing to apologize for, but sometimes I allow my blog posts to escalate from something fairly natural and loose to something altogether wannabe Vogue-ish. And there's nothing wrong with that - like I said, I like beautiful things - but my life isn't a walking-talking Vogue photoshoot unfortunately. It's too easy for me to get jammed into the mindset that any blog post of mine has to be simply sublime. It's tempting to want you to glance at my blog and see me looking perfectly put together and tres chic at absolutely all times. Those fancy-shmancy blog posts are lovely to make, but my life isn't always glamorous or anything like unto it. Sometimes there needs to be a blog post to remind myself of that, a blog post full of spontaneity and average-looking outfits, because that's reality. 

This evening I was slobbing in the basement eating toast and watching a film. I heard my roommate Kristi yell down that it was sunny and raining at the same time and that I absolutely had to go outside. Up and out I went, and immediately the artist alarm went off in my mind and like a maniac I dashed back inside thinking "CAMERACAMERACAMERA". What was also running through my mind was this: "This-would-make-a-gorgeous-blog-post-I-need-to-get-changed-and-put-on-more-makeup-I-hope-my-hair's-not-too-much-of-a-wreck-but-oh-no-what-if-I-miss-the-light-quick-hurry-ahhhh". And then, as I was faffing about in the kitchen, I heard Kristi calling again: "Stop taking pictures and live in the moment!"

Stop taking pictures and live in the moment.

I came to a sudden, screeching halt. Did it really matter that I was wearing minimal makeup? Did it really matter that I was in ill-fitting leggings and a pair of trainers? To put it frankly - no, it didn't. Of course the artist in me couldn't do the whole stop-taking-pictures thing, but I decided that tonight I would be brave and do the stop-taking-pictures-that-you-feel-you-have-to-look-perfect-in thing. And so I grabbed the camera, tied my laces, and went to join my roommates Kristi and Jane in the rain. And we had fun. The photos are awkward and embarrassing and a little bit bizarre. I don't look my best and am definitely not 100% photogenic. It's all a bit messy and unplanned, but so is life.

And that's okay.

Love, Kitty x

A WORD ABOUT ACCENTS

This week I've been thinking about accents: the way people speak, or more specifically, the way I speak. The more I've thought about my accent, the more conscious I am of it, and so I thought I'd share a few words about my own experience as part of the 'Accent Minority'.

Living in Canada as an English person has made me acutely conscious of what comes out of my mouth. Before I came here I just spoke how I spoke and got on with life, but arriving here I suddenly found out that I have an 'accent'. I have compiled a list of the things I have learnt since becoming a talking freak show. This list might be a little exaggerated here and there, but most of the points are surprisingly accurate. Disclaimer: my tone is tongue-in-cheek, therefore do not take this all seriously. You have been warned.

1) My accent is apparently simultaneously cute, neat, awesome, and a bajillion other things that I was previously unaware of.

2) Sometimes people listen far less to what I say, than how I say it. For example, let's say I'm sorted into a discussion group in my English class. I start the discussion by getting into a 2-minute analytic monologue on Shakespeare's use of language in play X. What do I get in reply? Not a 'yes I agree with you,' or 'no I think you've got the wrong idea' - no, too often the response is 'Oh my gosh I love your accent'. Oh right. Thanks. Um, back to the assignment...

3) I have a British accent. Ignore the fact that there are three different countries in Britain and that each country has innumerable varying dialects. Nope, my accent is most accurately described as 'British'.

4) To continue the previous point, I've been told several times by people that I can't possibly have a 'British' accent because they have a British friend and I sound nothing like him. Upon asking where this friend comes from, the answer is invariably Manchester or Newcastle or Lancaster or York, while I'm from Hertfordshire (just north of London). So basically it's like me telling someone from Texas that they can't be American because they sound nothing like my American friend from Brooklyn. 10 points for logic.

5) Apparently, my accent is a guy magnet. Speaking the way I do means I am bound to have scores of admirers. I am yet to see just one of these legions of lovers. More often than not, I get the reaction of 'Sorry, what did you just say?' when I speak to any unknown male, rather than 'Marry me, English chick'.

6) I am misheard very frequently, to the point of people asking me to repeat myself 3-4 times. Last year in a lecture I answered a question and I kid you not, I said it five times before the girl next to me to took pity on the poor foreigner and repeated what I said in her Canadian accent, and only then did my professor understand. Speaking differently can be mortifying.

7) I have become paranoid about how I speak. Do I say this word funny? Oh no, have I started pronouncing that word with a Canadian accent? Do I sound WEIRD?

8) Saying words like 'rubbish', 'naff', 'brilliant', 'knickers' and 'lovely' will almost certainly produce laughter and mockery.

9) I am apparently also Australian. So many people tell me I can't be British because I sound Australian. I love Aussies, but I sound nothing like one. I had been in a class for 3 months when the professor asked me which part of Australia I was from. No comment.

10) Whatever I say sounds intelligent because of my accent. Of course I don't live by this rule myself, but it is the general consensus amongst classmates. To prove this point, I shall write complete nonsense - 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' -  but if I tell you to imagine Mary Poppins saying those words, they of course become literature.

I'm sure this list could go on, but I will end the sarcasm right here. I don't really mind all of this accent-fuss, but every now and then I feel that I need to go home and massage my head with a brick. A couple of good things have emerged from being in the accent minority: I am infinitely more compassionate to others who have different accents and try very hard not to ask them to repeat everything they say; and I have converted eleven-year-old twin girls to the wonders of Harry Potter by reading aloud to them in the Mother tongue.

I leave you with a serious thought:  Listen first and foremost to what people say rather than praising/insulting them for how they say it, for the way someone speaks does not define who he or she is.

SAME OLD SAME OLD

I woke up this morning to this.

What, I hear you say, a bit of snow? A resounding yes is the answer to that question. I know it is only a bit of snow. I know it might even look quite pretty. But I have woken up to snow - ranging from a bit to a mountain - for TOO long. This past Saturday and Sunday Mother Nature played a trick on we poor warmth-deprived individuals here in Ontario, Canada and shot us with sun and melting snow and overall gorgeousness. It was enough to encourage me to break out the rolled up trousers and ballet flats and light spring jackets (see evidence), but then on Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday we returned to freezing flurries and white stuff.

To all this, I ask WHY?! Why must I be forever doomed to snow boots and snowflake pyjamas? Why am I still having to lug my bulky coat around to every class? March is my birthday month, and in England I was used to seeing my birthday as a sign of spring: the buds were out on the trees, there were daffodils everywhere - it was heaven. Here my birthday is a reminder of Winter's never-ending grip. Cue abundant "woe-is-me"-ing.

On the plus side, there was a beautiful blue sky this morning. I'm choosing to see this as sign of lovely warmth and sunshine coming our way, as of NOW.

Goodbye Snow, it was nice seeing you.

Kitty x

PRETTY AS A PICTURE

Towards the end of last year, my parents came home from visiting friends with two antique windows that had been mouldering away, unwanted, in some forgotten corner of the house. The idea was that I hang them on a wall in my room, but due to the daily demands of student life, the windows were left tucked away in the garage.

Fast forward to last Saturday, and there I was in the frames section of IKEA, a glazed look in my eyes as I absorbed the sheer volume of frames on offer. You see, one of the things I like to do is collect postcards. Not only travel postcards, but art postcards from galleries and museums, postcards of vintage ads, postcards of photographs I like - I collect them all. After several years of doing this, I now have a sizable stash. In my old room I plastered the postcards on my wall, but after having to deal with the residue of gunky tack on the wall when I packed up my room to move, I realised a change of tactics was in order.

So there I was in IKEA, hoping to buy an assortment of smallish frames in which to put my postcards so I could hang them salon-style in a cluster on my wall. This brilliant idea of mine became slightly less plausible when I started to calculate how many postcards I wanted to frame - $4.99 may seem like a rather good price for a funky little frame, but when you're multiplying that by a considerable number... well, the student budget is not so forgiving for things like room decor. I left IKEA empty-handed, sentencing my poor postcards to more long months of being bagged up under the bed. 

It was soon after this that I had a little eureka moment when I remembered the window panes stored in the garage - I could convert those into frames! Not only could each individual pane fit at least two postcards, but I would have antique-looking frames to perfectly complement my artsy postcards! 

What I have to work with - there's something infinitely appealing about the whole rustic vibe. Who knew rust could actually make things look better?!

Rust may be pretty, but it's messy too - a quick spray of this makes these frames postcard-placing, wall-hanging ready!

And so today, when I sorted through my postcards, I got to do one of my favourite things: look at pretty pictures for a little while. Why does that sound so simple? I suppose, though, that this is really at the heart of art-loving: enjoying pretty pictures. 

Believe me, this is just the tip of the iceberg!

Charlie enjoys the postcards too... but I think he might have different reasons for doing so than me!

Looking through pictures you love is like discovering them all over again. I took the time to to remind myself of some of my favourites...

Left: A postcard print by Kirsten McCrea at hellokirsten.com, Toronto.
Middle: Official portrait of Princes William and Harry by Fergus Greer, 2007, at the National Portrait Gallery, London.
Right: Cityscape, Donald Hamilton Fraser, from the Royal Academy of Arts Summer Exhibition 2009, London.

Left: R.H., Isobel Peachey, at the National Portrait Gallery BP Award 2011, London.
Middle: Mariana in the South, 1897, by all-time favourite John William Waterhouse, at the Royal Academy, London.
Right: Helena Bonham Carter, Derry Moore, 1992 at the National Portrait Gallery, London.

Left: Queen Elizabeth II, Eve Arnold, 1968 at the National Portrait Gallery, London.
Middle: Joan of Arc, Jules Bastien-Lepage, 1879 at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
Right: Virginia Woolf, George Charles Beresford, 1902, at the National Portrait Gallery, London.

Left: Cypresses, Vincent Van Gogh, 1889, at The Real Van Gogh Exhibition 2010,  the Royal Academy, London.
Middle: James Dean, photographer unknown, from a stall in Camden Market, London.
Right: J.K. Rowling, Stuart Pearson Wright, 2005, at the National Portrait Gallery, London.

Art appreciation complete, I arranged some postcards in one of the windows. I haven't yet decided how best to attach the postcards (a mount? hanging from string?) but once I muddle through it I'll have a rather lovely arrangement on my wall, methinks!

Voila! Dead chuffed!

Kitty x