Tags
art, artist, humor, internet, literature, social media, technology, twitter, william shakespeare, writer

King of Twitter, time-travel permitting. Entertainers, begone; comedians—get thee home!
03 Thursday Nov 2016
Posted in Notes
Tags
art, artist, humor, internet, literature, social media, technology, twitter, william shakespeare, writer

King of Twitter, time-travel permitting. Entertainers, begone; comedians—get thee home!
01 Tuesday Nov 2016
Posted in Beauty
Tags
aesthetics, art, Beauty, colors, hamlet, history, literature, love, mood, mood board, ophelia, poem, poetry, romanticism, shakespeare, tragedy

Sir John Everett Millais, Ophelia, 1851-2, oil on canvas
A mood board inspired by Shakespeare’s tragic heroine Ophelia (Hamlet). Her madness-led demise by drowning was deemed one of the Bard’s most breathtaking death announcements and, with the aid of this ethereal depiction on canvas by Victorian painter Sir John Everett Millais, her death lives to this day, immortalised by Romantics then and now.


There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them:
There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.

25 Tuesday Oct 2016
Posted in Petit Passages
I should like to die on a splendid day at the height of summer, under a radiant blue sky on a bed of flowers. If it were not for my morbid longing for the picturesque, I should not mind expiring as wildlife do, Continue reading
24 Monday Oct 2016
Posted in Notes
21 Friday Oct 2016
Tags
adulthood, cinema, film, hollywood, james dean, life, prose, rebel without a cause, retrospective, teenager, vintage, writer, writing

The disillusioned teenager in me never died. James Dean called and I answered; that is to say, his brutally realistic portrayal of troubled teen Jim Stark reminded me of myself all those years ago—I think 15 is the average age at which one sheds their childhood coil—when, along with my peers, it became more apparent than ever to us that pain and suffering are inevitable, as is death.
The angst was real and it was raw. For the hypersensitive ones who felt and thought about everything deeply and personally, creative expression Continue reading
11 Tuesday Oct 2016
Posted in Notes
04 Tuesday Oct 2016
Posted in Notes
30 Friday Sep 2016
Posted in Beauty

I find Chopin’s music incredibly soothing, gentle, and elegant. And in all that which is the aforementioned, there is Grace and Beauty. Grace and Beauty are capitalised here in allusion to the old poetic tradition, where vital intangible things like Death and Spirt are given the capital treatment.
And speaking of Death, I happen to live for la petit mort, Continue reading
24 Saturday Sep 2016
Posted in Uncategorized
Tags
art, artist, f scott fitzgerald, illustration, literature, love, poetry, prose, writer, writing

Decided to celebrate my favourite writer’s big day with a hand-drawn portrait. Celebrate with me by reading my love letter to him, or my musings on how John Keats’ Romantic poetry impacted his prose style. And don’t forget to have some gin & tonic!
Coloured pencil on pastel paper. More art can be found on my Instagram @artbybettyboo.
21 Wednesday Sep 2016
Posted in Letters
Tags
concert, feelings, feminism, friendship, letter, life, longreads, music, prose, women, writer, writing

How would you like to be left at a concert by your very best friend? Aside from feeling utterly gutted, I was sick with guilt and worry. What was I doing dragging her to something she wouldn’t enjoy, and how was I to live with myself if something were to happen to her on her way home, alone at night? To further complicate things, that live performance ended up being the most emotionally intense musical experience of my life. It was, paradoxically, the best and worst night ever. This is a raw and honest open letter to my best friend about that night. Continue reading