Ella Rose: the story: The Gypsy's Jewels

Tuesday, 27 December 2011

The Gypsy's Jewels

Sometimes, you just need a play around.

I was having a portfolio slump and wanted to try something different, specifically something to show off a more 'gypsy', jewel-coloured, sultry look, and called on my good friend Holly, who, as luck would have it, wanted to practise her photographic talents on a willing subject. This was 100% a mutual collaboration; I'm swathed in silks, flowing skirts, sparkling beads, heavy pendants, heavy bangles, feathers, intricate masks and jingle jangles (I had no time to be selective and brought sackfuls of clothes/accessory joy, while Holly had laid out all her best adornery on her bed, ready for my arrival; seriously, between us we could host a pretty impressive treasure shop!!!). I stood in the piercing prickles of some beautiful sun-lit reed heads. It was blimmin' cold, that day, and I was in a massive rush and definitely clock-watching a little bit, having not fully packed for a backpacking trip I was departing for the next morning. This wasn't the first time I'd modelled for Holly (I think it was the fourth. See Winter Portraits and Gemini). Still, modelling for a photographer who is a. a friend, and b. a phenomenal model who I've also modelled nekkid alongside lots of times is an interesting experience. We both giggled a lot as I experimented with facial expressions. I think Holly did an amazing job with the light and glow. Check out her portfolio on Model Mayhem: Jewelled Earth. Apparently there are a couple more to come at some point, but Holly is by no means quitting her day job and these things take time... I'm very happy with these! Hope you like them.

My trusty Sony Cybershot compact camera broke on the very last day of my recent travels, after 5 years or so of rough and tumble. (How lucky that it didn't break halfway through my trip, I thought!!) I'm currently researching for a new one. As someone who loves and works within the realm of photography, I definitely feel it's time I owned my very own gadgety-goodness. I'm thinking of entering the dark and wonderful world of the interchangeable lens, and am currently leaning 99% towards the Panasonic Lumix G3. Exciting times!

Finally for today... 2012 is going to involve plenty of national and international travel. I am kicking this off with gentle jaunts to BRISTOL on Jan 3rd and CAMBRIDGE circa 18th Jan. To take advantage of this availability, you know what to do... I'll regularly be announcing new trips, so please do keep an eye on this blog/my facebook page/the casting calls on portfolio hosting sites. Or just email me, if you like to keep things simple: ellarosemuse@live.co.uk. (Are you getting excited by all this bold type? Good.) :)

6 comments:

Mike SmithDec 27, 2011 02:45 PM
I think these are a wonderful set of photos. The colours are just fabulous.
The natural lighting is superb. The texture created by the teasels and the way the light falls through their heads is great.
I love them. Well done Holly and well done Ella.
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ErikDec 28, 2011 05:48 AM
Extremely luscious, vibrant, and hypnotic. You look stunning.
There are just certain times in Life where, upon seeing something so awesome in all its beauty and splendor, all I can simply say is, "Wow." This is one of those times. Great job.
(P.S. I must admit...all the bold type did, indeed, excite me a bit as well. Well played.) ;-)
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John KentDec 28, 2011 12:51 PM
Outstanding modelling and photography!
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Tim PileDec 29, 2011 12:27 AM
Beautiful images, well done both.
I didn't realise that Holly was such a wonderful photographer :)
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Francesc GonzalezJan 9, 2012 03:15 AM
Delicious pictures. Congratulations for you and Holly, great photographer. You're the authentic Gipsy Queen!
ReplyDelete
Wan HidayJan 25, 2012 06:54 PM
Colorful, beautiful expression, and nice costumes. it's a very beautiful of you.
ReplyDelete

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2012 TRAVEL PLANS

*PARIS: available 23rd-24th March
*WALES (including Snowdonia): early April (Easter)
*HOLLAND&GERMANY: April 11th-23rd (Dusseldorf, Cologne, Essen, Nijmegen, Amsterdam)
*SCOTLAND (Dundee-Fife-Edinburgh-Glasgow): 9th-16th May
*IRELAND (Dublin-Kildare): June (details TBA; postponed from May)
*GERMANY & FRANCE & MORE EUROPE: July-Aug

+ Australia, India, Hong Kong and Japan if I'm lucky.

I frequently tour a lot of the UK and Ireland, and travel internationally. Please email me directly at ellarosemuse@live.co.uk if you'd like me to get in touch when travelling to your area. Please include:
-your location
-a link to your work on a photography site/your website
-information about references, or a profile page where I can see some
-any other information
...Thanks!

...Wherever you are, I can probably get there and might be going there anyway! I have a car, a discounted rail card and a passport which likes being stamped.

About Me

Based in Oxford, UK, I began modelling for a painter not long after being a student and accidentally carried on. Whether traditional or experimental, from artistic nudes to fashion shots, I strive to work with artists and photographers to help create images which are memorable, beautiful, intriguing or celebratory of the female form. My life-long love of dance allows me to use my body awareness to add creativity, expressive lines, grace and emotion to images I'm involved with.

This blog is a little diary of my adventures and a fun way for me to share my latest images week by week (and help myself keep track of what I get up to!). Thanks for dropping by!

Walter De La Mare, 'The Listeners'

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,

Knocking on the moonlit door;

And his horse in the silence champed the grasses

Of the forest’s ferny floor:

And a bird flew up out of the turret,

Above the Traveller’s head:

And he smote upon the door again a second time;

‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.

But no one descended to the Traveller;

No head from the leaf-fringed sill

Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,

Where he stood perplexed and still.

But only a host of phantom listeners

That dwelt in the lone house then

Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight

To that voice from the world of men:

Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,

That goes down to the empty hall,

Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken

By the lonely Traveller’s call.

And he felt in his heart their strangeness,

Their stillness answering his cry,

While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,

’Neath the starred and leafy sky;

For he suddenly smote on the door, even

Louder, and lifted his head:—

‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,

That I kept my word,’ he said.

Never the least stir made the listeners,

Though every word he spake

Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house

From the one man left awake:

Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,

And the sound of iron on stone,

And how the silence surged softly backward,

When the plunging hoofs were gone.

Natasha Khan/Bat for Lashes, 'Horse and I'

Got woken in the night,
by a mystic golden light.
My head soaked in river water.
I had been dressed in a coat of armor. They called
a horse out of the woodland.
"Take her there, through the desert shores."
They sang to me, "This is yours to wear.
You're the chosen one, there's no turning back now."

The smell of redwood giants.
The banquet for the shadows.
Horse and I, we're dancers in the dark.
Came upon the headdress.
It was gilded, dark and golden.
The children sang.
I was so afraid I took it to my head and prayed.
They sang to me, "This is yours to wear. You're the chosen one, there's no turning back."
They sang to me, "This is yours to wear. You're the chosen one, there's no turning back."

Mark Doty, 'A Display of Mackerel'

They lie in parallel rows,

on ice, head to tail,

each a foot of luminosity

barred with black bands,

which divide the scales’

radiant sections

like seams of lead

in a Tiffany window.

Iridescent, watery

prismatics: think abalone,

the wildly rainbowed

mirror of a soapbubble sphere,

think sun on gasoline.

Splendor, and splendor,

and not a one in any way

distinguished from the other

—nothing about them

of individuality. Instead

they’re all exact expressions

of the one soul,

each a perfect fulfilment

of heaven’s template,

mackerel essence. As if,

after a lifetime arriving

at this enameling, the jeweler’s

made uncountable examples,

each as intricate

in its oily fabulation

as the one before

Suppose we could iridesce,

like these, and lose ourselves

entirely in the universe

of shimmer—would you want

to be yourself only,

unduplicatable, doomed

to be lost? They’d prefer,

plainly, to be flashing participants,

multitudinous. Even now

they seem to be bolting

forward, heedless of stasis.

They don’t care they’re dead

and nearly frozen,

just as, presumably,

they didn’t care that they were living:

all, all for all,

the rainbowed school

and its acres of brilliant classrooms,

in which no verb is singular,

or every one is. How happy they seem,

even on ice, to be together, selfless,

which is the price of gleaming.

Kate Clanchy, 'Poem for a Man with No Sense of Smell'

This is simply to inform you:

that the thickest line in the kink of my hand
smells like the feel of an old school desk,
the deep carved names worn sleek with sweat;

that beneath the spray of my expensive scent
my armpits sound a bass note strong
as the boom of a palm on a kettle drum;

that the wet flush of my fear is sharp
as the taste of an iron pipe, midwinter,
on a child's hot tongue; and that sometimes,

in a breeze, the delicate hairs on the nape
of my neck, just where you might bend
your head, might hesitate and brush your lips,

hold a scent frail and precise as a fleet
of tiny origami ships, just setting out to sea.