introducing: Red Moon Art Collective

RED MOON – The Meaning behind the name:

RED – Referring to the female reproductive system and the power a woman holds within it.

MOON – Women’s cycles are connected to the moon.

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A couple of months ago I was sat at home in the garden. It was hot outside and I was fresh out of the shower. The breeze was warm but cool on my damp hair. I had an impulse to create when red moon appeared in my mind.

I’ve been wanting to create something that ’empowers females artists’ in some way for a while now but I couldn’t really find something I found original or inspiring that took my fancy.  I was scrolling through all the amazing female illustrators and artists I l o v e  to follow on my instagram, when it occurred to me that they were in no way getting enough recognition for all the beautiful work they were creating. That’s when I thought of RED MOON – a space to feature talented female creatives. Inspired by the feminist activist artists ‘Guerrilla Girls‘, my aim of Red Moon is to empower female creatives in a field which is very often dominated by men.

Red Moon and the support it has been given so far has been amazing and I really hope for it to grow and expand in many beautiful ways. If you know any talented female artists or are one yourself you can:

DM me on Instagram: @redmoonartcollective

Email me at: redmoonartcollective@gmail.com

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photo series: Portuguese blue

Intricately devised tiles of soulful patterns line the dusty streets of Âncora. The hum of the Atlantic plays waves on the stereo. Surfers intently watch the ocean, secretly hoping the flocks of sun loving children will empty the sea. Like swarming bees, people flood the restaurants with their laughter and smiles as the sun starts to set over the Portuguese blue.

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illustration: home

Home is waking up to sunshine peaking through the blinds at 4am on a summers day. Home is knowing where every creak in the stairs is when sneaking down to get secret food. Home is the sound of the of the hum of the fan in my parent’s room on a busy weekday morning. Home is the dogs barking at anybody who knocks at the door. Home is my dads deep voice vibrating under my floorboards as he laughs and talks with mama in the evenings. Home is dinner at six, seven, or eight. Home is summer days spent on the patio drinking ice lemon water and napping under the umbrella. Home is having to find dandelions for the tortoise or even having to find the tortoise himself. Home is winter days spent watching films in the lounge in a sea of blankets and drinking endless cups of tea. Home is the delightful array of smells cooking in the kitchen in the evenings and often at breakfast.

Home is where frustration boils and anger spits. Home is where I cry and hurt and worry. Home is where happiness and love is at its fullest. Home is where I laugh till I cry and love so much I could explode with glitter and sunshine. Where life and people pass by everyday, home stays put. Home is where I’ve grown and home is who is there for me.

23/6/17

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