Image

what she .. was

@ 16, walking home from the ‘dance’, just like you had done a tonne of times before. 

& as you stroll down the road reminiscing on the events of the evening, the thrill of freedom that comes with dancing and singing, the rhythm & flow of the music ..

& you feel something hurting your head & then nothing.

you wake later, when its darker .. & you are bleeding. you feel woozy but cant recollect anything. youre sore all over. particularly around the genital area.

you get home & are told off for being late .. way too late .. reprimanded for the possibility of being ‘loose’ …

anyway, time goes by .. your aches & pains dissipate & then, your belly starts to swell. you periods have stopped & your mother is telling you you are getting fatter …

& you are sent away with your swollen belly.

cos girls like you aren’t welcome here ..

neither are your babies.

you have your baby.

& it is taken from you and adopted out .. well, given away.

post war .. you meet a man .. you are married .. you become pregnant.

you are happy and content & full of life .. this is a second chance .. to love ..

& when he is born ..

he isn’t breathing. 

you cry ..

& cry silently.

on & on.

then stop.

cos this is not the time for tears. this is no time to cry over spilt milk ..

time passes & you become pregnant again .. this time he is a healthy baby boy .. a beautiful bundle of love.

you sing to him, dance with him, love him fully & completely.

then another pregnancy & again,  youre filled with joy .. another child, another chance to give all the love that you have.

she is born and she is just as beautiful as you had imagined .. you dance and sing her songs .. rock her and cradle her .. love her to bits. 

& then life happens, as it does ..  in between all of that beauty .. & you have moments of immense sadness & grief .. 

you become pregnant again .. filled with the joy a mother feels when she desperately wants babies .. 

& then she is born.

& shes not breathing.

another. not breathing.

you cry. deep deep tears. the tears & grief that a mama feels when her babies are hurt, but this feels empty.

they take her. & bury her.

you dont speak of her again.

then, life. life continues.

the ups & the downs.

& you become pregnant again .. he is sick but he lives, & this is your last chance. so you love like no other.

then life. life continues.

& your living children dont love you like you thought they would.

your first grandbaby is adopted out.

& lifes heartbreak seems to be repeating itself.

but their are more grandchildren coming & life keeps going.

as do you.

you have so much love to give.

& with each heartbreak, you rise & continue to love.

and then ..

your first living son .. takes his own life.

& the world stands still.

well, it does for you.

you can feel your heart cracking & breaking & the blood flowing where only tears once flowed.

how do you mend?

how on earth do you mend.

slowly.

so very slowly.

how do you keep on loving anything ??

.

i dont know .. but you did.

.

This is my Nans story. well part of it.

today i remember her & all her babies & all the never ending love she managed to give us all.

Love You Nan xx


kpm©


 

Image

photography .218

#nans #teacup #beauty #macro #photography #kpm©


kpm ©


 

thought about my nan today,

actually i think about her most days, but today was a little different.

i had always wondered why she never left my grandfather when she appeared to be mostly (except for a few interim moments) pretty miserable.

they fought like cats & dogs & never really had anything nice to say to one another. they co-existed, or so it seemed.

they slept in different rooms & never really attended ‘functions’ together, like i saw other couples do.

there was always an air of animosity & tension.

poor old nan got the blame for most of that.

don’t get me wrong, i love both of my grandparents way beyond i love most things. but there things that my eyes & heart didn’t really understand.

as i become more ‘vocal’ & more of a feminist i suppose, my misplaced disdain for nan being in a situation she really didn’t like, made me question what she was up too.

why didn’t she just move on? start a new life? like my mama had when my father turned out to be a dick.

well, today i caught a glimpse of nans plight. i understood in a new way, why she didn’t or rather, couldn’t, ‘change’ her situation. it was something that i did know really, but not really really. lol. yah know when you really get the gist of something.

nan was a woman. a woman of the pre & post WW2 era. while she was fiercely independent & an entrepreneur & trailblazer of her era; she was limited.

because she was a woman.

where does a woman with no steady income – no ‘credentials’ – no ability to drive let alone purchase a vehicle – no ‘tribe’ that was accepting of her & her life choices (she married a man-of-colour, my grandfather, & was ostracised for it) – no alternatives – with declining mental health issues & daily challenges of small town living & generalised ‘woman misunderstanding’ – with a mouth that challenged the patriarchy @ every turn & was demonised for it.

where does that woman go when there is no where to go?

i guess i hadn’t really understood that sometimes, there is literally No Place To Go.

when that happens, you make a choice – a limited choice, but a choice none-the-less.

you remain in the situation that you know & that you can manoeuvre some type of freedom out of. as limited as that may be, it is better than the weighed up alternative – homelessness. aloneness.

today i understood her.

i understood her choices.

i admire her more than i think i have ever admired her before.


kpm ©


 

Image

shoe porn.

I was thinking about stuff I like … shit that makes Me feel Nice … Yah know … Just to add to my ‘365 reasons to smile’ mojo …

So I decided to google #shoeporn … because shoes are just one of most favourite-est things … well good shoes that is.

Any who … I was quite disgusted, nay appalled, at what our millennials believe is a good shoe, be-fitting the hashtag slash title of “Shoe Porn”.

Apparently a sneaker, that looks similar to what I could buy at K Mart for $14, but said sneaker has a teensy tiny little label on it, that alludes to the possibility of that shoe being a Louis Vuitton; but not actuals … well that shit is classed as ‘shoe porn’. Wtf right?

Now I’m No expert in shoes … however, there are a couplely things that place a shoe (for Me anyways) in the Shoe Porn Zone.

A. They’ve gotta be sexy. … and I don’t mean hooker boot sexy; I mean classy, Italian,  Yanis Marshall dancing in them, sexy.

B. They’ve gotta suit your feet. They’ve gotta suit You.

Now, my Nan was my shoe fettish idol. She had heels for miles and her feet had arches like Naomi Campbell. I loved watching her get all dressed up to the nines, with the heels that perfectly accompanied her outfit. She was my version of quintessential elegance.

Shoes became something that I gravitated towards and unknowingly collected like other peeps collect little ceramic angels that gather dust on their shelves. Shoes were my go-to for elegance and relief. I’m a dress from the shoe up kind of girl; meaning the shoes are everything … except for the, ‘how’ you wear them.

For Me – Shoes are an Art unto themselves ;)

Heres a little sample of what I’m referring too.

by Gucci

by Alberta Ferretti

by Richard Braqo

My taste in shoes is obviously way overpriced … but I know my taste in shoes is also gangstah … and they make Me happy … and isn’t that all that matters really!

*Oh … I feel another shoe collection coming on ;) *


kpm ©


 

Image

photography .30

#bnw #memories #nansrecipes #handwriting #photography #kpm ©


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

Video

nan’s song

nan’s song

aba daba honeymoon – debbie reynolds, 1950

Image

thusly unfucked.

In my clean out the other day I had to figure out what to do with these beauties: potential rubbish bin material?

Well, I could not do it:

Heres why ..

These are macro shots of my Nans recipes. Even though they are old and largely illegible … they are my Nans essence <3 In this shot I can ‘see’ her love and beauty; her patience with us; her creativity and her wisdom. I miss her. And these little pieces of paper made my mindfulness-ness sort of teary, but happy.

I am privileged to have had a Nan in my life, right up until I was in my 30s. Not to many people can say that. My children had a Great-Nan but she departed this world before her great great grandchildren were born.

Memories come with all sorts of things … bits of paper; handwritten scribbles; recipes; smells; words … flavours.

I love my Nan for everything she gave Us girls. She was / is the epitome of strength and resilience.

Today the shout out mindfulness spot goes to my Nan.

<3


kpm ©


 

Image

italian dinner … take 2

I decided to bust out my Nans dinner ware and silver ware for this dinner. Oh yeah ;)

Nan had amazing taste in the finer things … that none of us appreciated at the time of course. But she had one of those sets of dinner ware that had everything, and like 12 – 20 of everything. All matching; for different elements of a dinner.

Pleased we’ll actually get to use it all again.

I think she’d be pleased too … mind due, she may cringe at the way we end up setting it all up … but oh well xo

Love you Nan.

And we are making progress :)


kpm ©


 

SaveSave

Image

my Nan.

I am made up of many nuances … some of which come from those that have loved Me; those whose genetics I carry. We all have these … I guess some we may not have known, but I’m pretty sure they’re there; lurking in the background.

For Me, one such lovely creation, is my maternal Nan.

I guess I didn’t fully appreciate who she really was and all her strengths, whilst she was alive. But thats typical isn’t it … never really appreciating what you have until its gone.

I do believe though, that even after these people, or things, that have ‘touched’ our lives, have gone, they leave an imprint and therefore never truly ‘leave’ us.

My Nan was raised during the Wars and lived through the Depression. Her and her sisters and brother, lived a life that was hard but also full of ‘learning’ rarely seen nowadays. They were able to ‘play’, create and work like we spend half of our lifetimes trying to get a little taste of.

Nan was especially sensitive to the ‘pain’ of others … and I believe this is one part of her that I inherited. Not that I’ve seen it as a blessing really; but I’ve come to appreciate what it was in her … how she ‘outworked’ that insight. Nan knew when to touch my hand; pat my head; tuck me in; make me macaroni cheese; ring to talk or listen; she knew when to tell a story about where she came from and what she was raised like; she knew when to laugh about the funny things she had experienced; she knew how to love Me.

From her also comes my creativity; my need for peace; my love for ‘pretties’; my love for Shoes!! My intuition and my ability to design … to see beauty when others don’t. My love for dance and music.

My Nan was all these things … and she was what would be termed now, as ‘mentally ill’ … but in her era she was labelled ‘neurotic’, over emotional and over sensitive. As a woman, I get what they did to her now. She was an outspoken woman. A woman well before her time. A entrepreneur and a business woman. And she pissed men off … especially doctors and ‘professionals’. And instead of showing her the compassion and understanding that she showed others, they fried her with ECT first and then pharmaceuticals second. In my lifetime though, she overcame both of those things and still lived hard and gritty. She was still running her own business when she was in her eighties … nearly 5 years before she died.

I miss her. Everyday. I do wish I had’ve really appreciated everything that she was. But I am eternally grateful that She Was! That subtlely, she taught Me; to trust Me; to also say what I need too … even when no-one agrees, or likes what I say – I managed to get that one down packed alright!

I love that she is My Nan. I love that I am her moko, and that she loved Me massively. That she is Me and I am Her. That she left Me stories to tell. That she left me with endurance and strength.

“I Love You Nan …. Thankyou for your songs … Thankyou for your presence xoxo”

nan & little me

kpm ©


 

nan said

Nan use to say that there was more than one way to skin a cat.

I wish she had told me what the other way was.


kpm ©