Tuesday, 27 August 2013

The Tale of The Bingle Block

This is a Bingle Block. Bingle blocks are rather annoying, Bright and colorful too. Bingle Blocks hang around on walls but when you walk past them they grow and they squeek in your ear and go "bingle, bingle bingle bingle" until you hold out your hand to their face and say " block" then they stop. Thank goodness I learned this technique quickly it was driving me demented for a whole day when I was walking through Most Magical, another district in Strawberry Anarchy.

This is a polymer clay magnet made with polymer clay, it has glass eyes and is approx 1.5 inch by 1.5 inch in size. Just click on the photo to take you to the listing or click here.https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/157615756/the-tale-of-the-bingle-block

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Monday, 26 August 2013

A Brief Encounter With Banksy

My friends mum met Banksy in Edinburgh- I kid you not! Almost died when I heard. Well at least I think it was him. I don't see why someone would be impersonating him like this. So here is the story for you guys -Exclusively for Strawberry Anarchy :) Let me know what you think. Also she said he did look most like the photo at the end of the article but thinner and without glasses. I sent her a few other photos of people I suspected could be Banksy including Thierry Guetta and JPS. The photo was published a few years back apparently outing Banksy, interesting this could well actually be him. 

A Brief Encounter With Banksy
  • The taxi took me straight into Waverley station. I was hot and tired and I had meant to ask the driver to drop me off outside so that I could buy a much-needed drink in a nearby pub. Checking the board of times of Arrivals and Depatures, I saw that I had over an hour to kill. I wandered aimlessly around the station thinking about that drink when, to my delight, I stumbled upon a pub. It was very busy and the queue at the bar was horrendous. I ordered a pint of Amstel and looked for a place to sit. Although it was crowded there was an empty chair against the back wall alongside a large table. On the other side of the table was a long seat. The back was covered with red tartan. It was occupied by a man sitting on his own. I noticed he wore a dark waistcoat, without a jacket. He was of medium build with a swarthy complexion, his dark hair swept back from his face which broke into a smile as I sat down. I didn't smile back but pretended not to notice. Aware that I had caught the man's attention and was being watched, I purposely looked over at the table on the other side of me. There was large party of young men sitting at it. Two women had just joined them. One of them was young and pretty and plainly enjoying the attention she was receiving. The other woman looked older and I imagined her to be the mother. Suddenly the lone man got up and hurriedly left the table. I relaxed little, but a short while later he returned with a fresh pint giving me yet another engaging smile. I again pretended not to notice. The party of people had now left so I busied myself checking messages on my mobile. It was then the man spoke, I wasn't at all surprised as I half expected it. “Excuse me,” he said. “Would you mind telling me how much you paid for your drink?” Well that was an original chat up line, I thought. “£3.99,” I said politely. “That's expensive,” he said. But then I pointed out that it was Amstel and not Tennants which I noticed he was drinking. “Amstel is quite strong,” he said, looking at my pint. I explained that I wasn't keen on Tennats finding it too … thin, has no body to it. He nodded as he looked at his glass. “I bought a pint, to save queueing twice for a half pint.” I said He laughed. “ I usually can only get Amstel in London.” “London,” he said, you're from London?” “No, I live in Inverness,” I replied. Although I really didn't want to talk to him, I found myself doing just that. The conversation flowed easily between us with no awkward pauses. We gabbled about everything and anything as if making up for lost time. During the conversation he mentioned that he had five houses. I asked if he rent them out and, laughing, replied no, he moves around between them. He hadn't been to the house he was now going to in six months! “What do you do,” I asked curiously. He smiled and said that he was actually a famous artist. Not taking him seriously I asked, would I know you? “I'm sure you would,” he replied slightly boastful. I asked his name. Leaning forward he passed me his mobile and said that the first name at the beginning of the text was the name he paints under. I held it up so that I could read it and saw the name Banksy, which I thought strange. “Banksy,” I said. He nodded. “Sorry, I've never heard of you.” He looked at me as if I was joking and seeing that I wasn't began to laugh. He went on to assure me that he is famous. I told him that I had a brother-in-law who was a professional artists but wasn't famous. He asked for his name saying he might know him. I laughed and replied that it was unlikely as he died some time ago. His name, was Michael Budd and had he lived would be in his 60s. “I think I do know him.,” he said, as he looked at his phone. “Did he help other artist?” Although I thought it an odd question I replied,“No, he worked in a studio in High Holborn.” “I know Holborn,” he exclaimed. Still thinking about his strange name I said could he spell it for me as I would like to Google it when I got home. He then spoke quite solemnly saying that he'd never puts anything on Google, but what's on there is put on by other people. We talked some more about this and that. I mentioned that I was a writer and have been published, but not famous. He said he was a writer too. Then he got up and said he had to go or else he'll miss his train. He took hold of my hand and shook it. “It's been lovely talking with you,” he said. He then walked around the table and lent forward and said in my ear that he's a spray can artist. I laughed. “Oh, you paint graffiti,” I said. He looked momentarily shocked, then laughed. “No, I'm an artist.” Then we shook hands again. He paused for a moment and smiled before he disappeared into the crowd. Well that passed the time. I looked at my watch, it was time for me to go. I must remember to Google his name, Banksy or was it Bansky? And I bet he's not really famous, I thought, as I finished my beer. I left the pub, made my way to platform 11 and boarded the train home to Inverness.
    The End

Written by Christine Rolffe-Budd from Evanton in the Highlands of Scotland.  She is part of a creative writing circle in Dingwall called the Ross-Shire writers and their works have been published.
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Friday, 9 August 2013

New Quirky Strawberry Anarchy Packaging

I have made some new funky packaging, it means my business card is displayed and so save on having to print out the information again. This works well because I have used acetate so you can see through it and read the back of the business card. Also I have included a little envelope with the story of the vial inside to make it even more special. Excuse my chipped nail polish it only lasts one day on me then it's chipped. Can't believe I used to paint my nails so often when I was younger. It way too much hassle. Anyway I hope you like my packaging. Let me know what you think.

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Wednesday, 7 August 2013

Life Aint No Fairy Tale - Dina Goldstein

I had to blog about this, love this idea and it is really thought provoking. Too much princess crap when you are small is not good. You need to get prepared for the hardships and steamroller of life. I think this is a really interesting idea, original post here.

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Monday, 5 August 2013

The Tale of Glow Chum the Jar Head

This is Glow Chum the Jar head... she has mirrors in the bottom to reflect the glow, glow in the dark glass rods and glow in the dark polymer clay with glass dome and glass casing. So she is transformed in the night... Click here to view her in my Etsy shop
“Glow chum the jar head is a very special being in Strawberry anarchy she has great knowledge and power and is an entity of huge amounts of emitting energy which deeply enhance powerful feelings of happiness and crazy dancing. She got her glow given to her from the wise being. Things that glow have power in the day and power in the night, a phenomenon that is not unusual in strawberry anarchy but a very special gift from the wise being.Many creatures in Strawberry anarchy crowd round Glow-chum almost like she is a godly D.J with the most raw blasting and baseline beats and tunes you wouldn't have heard. Glowing balls, stars and rings fly out of glow chums head and the creatures try to catch them almost like us trying to catch bubbles while glow chum produces hums and beats for them to dance to. The glowing rods sway from side to side and curl up and down while she spreads her glow shapes. It looks almost tribal. This magnificent feeling you get is on another level when you manage to catch a glow star or glowing orb. I danced like I have never danced before.

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