A-Z of Amazing Women

A-z 2 010

A-Z of Amazing Women is the new range of prints from Alison Little. The main print takes us through a range of iconic women alphabetically, these are combined with a range of prints of individual women with short statements. She Talks us through why she selected the women for the new range:

Anne Frank                                 The young girl whose diary gave us a real insight into the                                                      Holocaust.

Mary Berry                                  A national treasure, the cooking show host who                                                                      frequents our TV screens.

Cruella Devil                              The 101 Dalmatians leading lady that really kicked ass.

Diana, Princess                         She stole the heart of the nation, her legacy will live                                                               on for eternity.

Emmeline Pankhurst                Led the Suffrage Movement into women gaining the vote.

Florence Nightingale               The nurse who became a Victorian icon and through                                                             making her rounds became known as ‘The lady with the                                                       Lamp’

Ariana Grande                         The singing superstar who helped survivors after a suicide                                                     bomber detonated an explosion at the Manchester                                                               Arena during her performance.

Barbara Hepworth                   The sculptor who led the way for women to work with                                                             heavy materials such as bronze.

Laura Ingalls                              The pigtail parading young lady who inspired young girls                                                       during her appearances in ‘Little House on the Prairie’

Joan of Arc                               The 15th Century female warrior who led the French to                                                           victory, when finally capture she was executed.

Kelly Holmes                              Double Olympic Gold winning runner who was awarded                                                       a Dame hood.

Sarah Lucas                              Leading feminist artist who represented Britain in the                                                               Venice Biennial in 2015.

My Mum                                   The ladies which raise, support and cherish us throughout                                                      our lives.

The Nolan’s                               The seventies all Irish sisters who sung there way into the                                                        limelight in the seventies.

Oprah Winfrey                         The all loving talk show host who became America’s first                                                        multi-billionaire Black person.

Pocahontas                             The native American who stared in the folk tale by saving                                                      the life of an English man held captive when her own                                                            father tried to execute him.

The Queen                               Simply, the Monarch.

Eleanor Rathbone                   The Liverpool member of the Suffrage movement who                                                          helped get women the vote.

Sylvia Plath                               The Pulitzer Prize-winning poet acclaimed for her                                                                    collections.

Tracey Emin                              Turner prize-winning artist famed for ‘My Bed’, the                                                                     installation which caused controversy.

Eunice Huthart                         The contestant that beat the Gladiators then went to                                                            Hollywood to become a stunt double.

Vera Lynn                                 ‘The Forces Sweetheart’ who entertained the troops during                                                    World War Two.

Amy Winehouse                       Legendary for hit such as ‘Back to Black’ and ‘Rehab’ her                                                       music will live on forever.

Beatrix Potter                            The writer and illustrator who brought us books such as                                                           Peter Rabbit.

Malala Yousafzai                     The once school girl who survived being shot by the                                                              Taliban for going to school.

Renee Zellweger                     The Texas-born artist who became Bridget Jones.

All prints are A4 in size and available from Arts Hub.

Arts Hub

 

 

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Grown Up Rug Rat

Rug rat image

These are the latest song lyrics being worked on from Alison Little

Grown Up Rug Rat

Saxon curls flow from my head

Skin glows with innocent Beauty

I sleep safely near the parental bead

From birth, I have never been naughty

 

At twenty I have toddler style body actions

Arms stretched up ahead of me

Biting my lip, an infants reaction

Skipping with excitement, full of glee

 

My Daddy wears a Senior Officers Hat

My Body is perfect, I have never been Fat

Oh I never liked Post Man Pat

I am a grown up Rug Rat

 

At twenty I have toddler style body actions

Arms stretched up ahead of me

Biting my lip, an infants reaction

Skipping with excitement, full of glee

 

Trying my best to make friends at Uni

The other girls seem so grown up

They have boyfriends, they can dance sexy

Alcohol is their fuel, orange juice I sup

 

My Daddy is a High up Copper

After Uni I will work for the Police full time

They won’t expect me to try and stop a robber

Or do anything about Rape crime

 

I have been part-time Police for years

I monitor swear words, their usage in reality

The Force does everything to protect me from my fears

My tears wiped away when I cry they copied me

 

My Daddy wears a Senior Officers Hat

My Body is perfect, I have never been Fat

Oh I never liked Post Man Pat

I am a grown up Rug Rat

 

At twenty I have toddler style body actions

Arms stretched up ahead of me

Biting my lip, an infants reaction

Skipping with excitement, full of glee

 

Daddy and I agree, I will remain a virgin

I shall never get my own flat

At twenty I stand, adulthood never immerging

I am a grown up Rug Rat

Starlet

Starlet image copy

Starlet is a fictional work from Alison Little, none of the charters or events are based on real life.

Starlet

She brushes her hair after her mid-morning bath, her routine so much more leisurely than her childhood days of rushing between casting and filming. She had become a star at the age of three, the Americans and due to the nature of Hollywood, the rest of the World took her into their hearts. A little lady who took the people away from the misery of the Depression in the thirties for a few hours in front of the big screen. The girl that had had everything any child could dream of: leading roles in the latest blockbusters, starring with headline grabbing names. Routines of hair and make-up, no-one ever questioning the sexualisation of the pre-teen, the beautifying process to ensure she was truly gorgeous on the big screen. Her own range of commercial products and, every girl’s dream, her own doll moulded to her features and dressed in her clothes; Black and sassy, hair dark and glossy with bright red lips. Her childhood years were spent marking the milestones of her mothers next high profile marriage. As a Hollywood star herself her Mother had ensured that she pushed her daughter in the same direction after all, fame and fortune was all every girl needed, all anyone should ever desire. She secured the best parts for her daughter and demanded she made the most of them. There was not too young an age to learn that appearance, to be envied by women and to be desired by Men was life’s primal goal.

She really did have it all, but at the age of twenty-two, she decided to give it all up, apart from a few cameo roles acting, singing and dancing were no more. Her Mother dictating her life’s direction was no longer, she made her own decisions.

A soft bristled brush, she quickly neatens her hair, a shorter more practical cut now, still naturally dark but sleeker towards her jaw. Thinking back to her childhood she remembers how she had used to give her hair one hundred strokes to ensure it stays shiny as it lies down her back, again at her Mothers insistence. An exercise in vanity while the other girls played with the dolls modelled on herself. Walking into her wardrobe to select her clothing, opting for a neatly waisted skirt and fitted top. She will look smart and decisive in this attire. She looks herself up and down in the dressing table mirror. Very competent as a well dressed she would ensure she appeared to be a happily married mother of two children she thinks to herself. Her mind turns to her recent disappointment, her husbands latest affair had come out in the gutter trash of the daily press. She had not realised that he had been having an affair, not a new one anyway, there had been so many she had lost track after their second child was born. This time it was more of an embarrassment, he a celebrity artist they had met early on in his career, he had returned from fighting in Europe in the War. He had built up fame ass an abstract painter, his celebrity status excelling when they had begun dating. So as she stepped out the lime light he had stepped in, as he became more famous the headlines began to refer to him by his name, not simply husband of Starlet, Hollywood’s legendary child star. This time it was more of a humiliation, even bigger headline news, the women he had been having the affair with was his life model. Although abstract painters didn’t use life models the press had jumped on the notion as a great story. He had been amidst an alcohol fuel period for several months. She had been avoiding him and ensured the children didn’t see him during these bourbon flavoured patches. He would spend much of his time at his studio, his paintings very dark during these periods. Many of his evenings were spent at endless parties accompanied by various women, other than herself. It was at one of these parties he had been photographed in an embrace with the so called life model come high-class hooker she thought to herself. It had knocked her terribly, she would put a brave face on things for the children and wait until he begged her to take him back. She didn’t know what she would do, say yes or no, it was still too fresh a wound to determine if it could be healed.

Then she looks in the mirror again, the vision comes directly from the heart: she remembers herself as a young girl and she sees a girl of stone. Transfixed and still in motion, no breath, no heartbeat, fixed solid as a rock like form. Her beauty is her shell, her outward appearance, her internal organs are dead to life and emotions. To the outside world she sings, dances, acts and socialises, on the inside, she is frozen still. The dark haired Starlet had become a mature mother who no longer sang and danced, but she was still the same, she must project an image of confidence and success to the World, she may be facing a marriage breakdown but she would continue to allude confidence.

Slowly she moves towards the window, she takes a cigarette from her pack of twenty and she lights it with the marble weighted table lighter. She feels the weight of the marble in her hand, she looks through the expanse of the window of their lakeside Mansion. She thinks about tearing her arm backwards, aiming forwards then projecting the shot put through the outstretched glass pain. A vision of a missile exploding, shrapnel in pursuit of every direction as it projects into the horizon of the lakes edges.

Calming herself, she inhales slowly enjoying the nicotine rush, they were only just beginning to talk about the health risks of smoking now, she had no intention of giving up, her lifelong habit would remain her many vices. She gazes out of the window, her eyes scan the lake: the mountains standing tall in the distance, the expanse of the lake stretching out for miles into the horizon. The pine trees surround the lake looking tall and healthy, strong and worldly, the American way. On the left shore she can see the small cluster of cherry tree’s, she thinks back to the cocktail that had been created in her name. The mixture of ginger ale vodka and tequila topped off with the finest cherries, a highly toxic variety which seemed appropriate for the US dark haired icon.

She looks towards the glass she had been drinking from until late last night, the gin bottle with still quite a bit in it was free to consume. The ice had melted and the lemon had dried up, the tonic was warm but still neatly assembled on the tray which was brought up to her last night. She considered calling down to Ebinger the Mexican housekeeper who came in on weekdays. It was eleven in the morning and she didn’t want her to know she going to start drinking so early in the day. He had sent her over the edge, into the abyss to alcohol added depression, the worrying over everything and seeing no positivity in the future. She made do with warm tonic to accompany the gin then fuelled her mind with another cigarette.

The water laps the rocks which align the edges of the tides path, her eyes focus on the jetty. The small lock up at the end proudly parading the star spangled banner at full mast. An array of brightly coloured kayaks lines one side of the landing,

She thinks back to a movie she had made not long after the second world war. She was all of sixteen and playing a naval Seels sweet heart, she stays loyal to him as he sails seas and coverts with women on the South Pacific. She had not been keen as they had wanted her virtually nude in many of the sex scenes, but her Mother, as usual, had decided it was what was in her best interests. She thinks back to the days of making the movie, a chance to escape her domestic nightmares, her mothers latest husband, she was now on number five had decided he preferred the junior dark haired Starlet to the mature beauty of her mother. He had started walking in when he knew she would be changing when she started blocking the door way with furniture he began ensuring he walked out of the bathroom naked when he knew she was the only one in the house. She made sure she was never alone in the house with him, staying late and making new arrangements to avoid his company. One of the older actors on the set had realised that something was wrong, he had spoken to the director, an old friend of her mothers he had come to the same conclusion. He tried to raise the matter with her mother but she would not believe a word of it, rejecting the logic put forward. Starlet continued to suffer enduring him at meals and more frequently over the festive season. As she looked for escape her domestic nightmare her drinking had begun, eventually leading to the meeting of her current husband.

Looking towards the other moorings her eyes focus on a small motor boat, the stern facing towards the expanse horizon. To take the boat and plough at full speed towards civilisation furthest outpost, how easy it would be to end everything, for the weight of her boulder shaped organs to drag her to the bottom of the lake. Her slow and solid lungs to fill with the water from the basin of nature’s whirlpool. The starter motor of the heart pumps sludge slowly through her internal organs to fail to kick in. The once long dark hair intertwined with the weeds at the bottom of the cycle of life, she would be no more……….