Writer’s Statement.

I’m Seraphim Bryant and I write for young adults who like thrillers and a bit of fantasy. Also, I write and illustrate picture books in young children’s fiction which are frequently about social issues and citizenship.

My style is very open, it’s quite conversational. This is because I like people so much and I love talking to them about their life, theories, and what their passions are.

That that’s how my writing often sounds; I write like a person who is telling you a story about what they’ve witnessed. The tone of my work can be quite serious, but I always have a dash of humour. Humour and love are essential in my writing because It’s my belief that life itself is full of humour and held together by love; it’s how people survive though hard times and massive challenges. I want my characters to go through parts of a real life too.

I was brought up on traditionalist writers like Beatrix Potter, Enid Blyton, CS Lewis, JRR Tolkien and stories from the Bible. I was very lucky to be read to as a child by my dad. These writers gave me a great sense of imagination, of new worlds, and the importance of people’s values and beliefs. Unfortunately, I was very sick child in my early years so I didn’t have a lot of schooling and this made be very slow to learn to talk, to read and ultimately communicate with the written word. For a long time, I struggled, and avoided reading.

Thankfully, in high school an amazing English teacher, Mr Young took the time to know me. He would constantly give the books that he knew I wouldn’t put down. This meant I felt compelled to read and I was launched into high fantasy, Gothic fiction and thrillers. From famous writers like Stephen King and Piers Anthony, to new writers at the time such as Carlos Ruiz Zafon, Christopher Paolini, Phil Pullman and Sally Green. My head was now full of stories, stories and escapism that I wanted to hear for myself. Ideas of the kinds of magic that I thought would interest me. Until I felt duty-bound to write too. This lead me into a degree in Creative writing and Illustration, bonding my two passions into production.

This is why I write, read, and I love, young adult fiction and I’m sure I will be buried with a children’s novel in hand.

Why do you write?

Why do you write what you write?

Why does it matter that you write?

Why do you put the time and effort into writing?

What are you trying to convey to readers through your writing?

What do you want your writing legacy to be?

How did you become a writer?

Alessandra Marie: Artist

Originally from Seattle, Washington, Alessandra attended the Pratt Institute where she graduated in 2012 but remaining in New York where she currently lives and works. It’s been a pleasure to see her style evolve and to see her art embraced into the eyes of countless viewers and I’ve always wanted to sit down and talk to her about all of it. She has gained a lot of recognition though interview, blogs and social media which I guess is a sign of the times.

All her works are with coffee stain, ink and pencil then Alessandra adds gold leaf details. This creates these wonderful dreamy pieces with an almost art nouveau feel I think.

My favourite interview answer when asked about her work :

Alessandra: Well – I don’t work with color! It’ll start to come in eventually (in certain areas), but my mind doesn’t work like a painters’ does. I see and compose work in terms of pattern, as opposed to light.. At first I perceived it as a serious disadvantage, but now I’ve found that it enables me to overcome some obstacles in interesting ways. It goes back to that Picasso quote, “If you have five elements available, use only four. If you have four elements, use three.” You can’t keep the intention of the piece pure if you’re too focused on balancing a bunch of irrelevant parts.

And yeah, Klimt was where the initial idea for gold came from! Growing up, my grandparents had some lovely Japanese lacquer boxes with gold that were great too.. I’ve always thought they were beautiful, and the execution on them inspired the work as well.

Having a go myself was going to be a challenge. I didn’t have gold leaf so I just used metallic pens to match the iridescence. I have to say learning to control and predict what the coffee stains would do took several test attempts.

My attempts:

Final piece…

Say what you mean.

A poem about Domestic violence.

Looking at Mark Hearld

Mark Hearld studied illustration at Glasgow School of Art and then completed an MA in Natural History Illustration at the Royal College of Art, London. His work is based on his observations of the natural world, influenced by mid twentieth century Neo-Romanticism and the gaiety of 1930s Modernism.

Outside Your Window is a book of poems and writing for children by Nicola Davies and illustrated by Mark Hearld. It is full of Mark’s lovely linocuts, lithographs and collage. Combining these medium gives a movement and life to the images and compliment the type of poems Nicola writes really well.

I hope to use this way of working to help me develop my own style and character in the images.

I have attempted to illustrate the Sonnet 130 by William shakespeare, my favorite line being “black wire grows on her head.” getting the hang of working from light to dark tone was a challenge. You don’t think about it normally the fact we are used to starting with a white piece of paper then add color and dark to it. In lino printing we have to work backwards. yes and the words backwards too. You can laugh at me now because i totally forgot and nearly ruined a good hours work. oops

Oak Tree and Stars; her image

Week 6 Creative Writing with WEA

The Argument

“Looking for something” he says

“Please not again” she silently prays

My confidence he sways, masterful in the role he plays

“What a mess” he grumbles in annoyance, as I don’t have the gift of clairvoyance my reaction is delayed and to him this my guilt displays

“Why are you snooping? What is it that you seek” he shuffles his paper, his eye on me

“It is not me” I plea “may be the children in their swooping or they curiously peek” I don’t know what else to think.

We stand upon the brink of yet another debate our course now innate as I have taken his bait.

“Laundry piled high some effort you might apply, stuff in the sink what am I to think? You know a lesser man than me would be driven to drink.

Common sense you need, what a pathetic weed and out all times of day with my work pay. What have you to say?!”

Nothing of course, I’m too full of remorse.

My aim should be to serve it’s no more than I deserve.

“It’s all your fault” his continued insult “why can’t you be like a real wife” directed like a knife

I’m the prisoner at the bar wearing love as a scar, might I be exonerated or to this authority I’m fated to fix in his box and wash his socks

I wonder how it will all end, how much more my will can bend

Promises broken with so many hateful words spoken

Some sign I need for my hope to feed and grow a little stronger, my love to last a little longer

Thanks would do just a few, a gentle glance, a second chance, a touch of romance

No riches required, no help hired simple gratitude less the attitude.

My capital now freeze, his temper appeased.

Woman and children now in his possessions yet his own family in abscission

They look out into the world seeing his lies that had been twirled becoming uncurled

Supremacy is his indeed but love deficiency caused such need that they cry to be freed.

Hating

Blackness

Darkness

Rottenness

Sickness

Distress

Dizziness

Hatefulness

Sinfulness

In a mess

Hopelessness

Forgiveness

God bless

Week 5 Creative Writing with WEA

Q; Write a scene in which two people engage in a heated quarrel, include both dialogue and descriptive body language, try to portray feelings as well as telling the reader about the characters.

He was in the house again. Sophie could hear the heavy steps of her father in the hallway, she could hear the soft scuttling of her mother in the kitchen. Tonight was going to be different. He had promised them, no more, no more arguing or fighting.

“Kristie did you need something?” David could see the papers, his papers, on his desk, they had been moved.

“No, I’m fine the children are all in bed. How were Frank and Grace? Did you fix their computer?” Kristie asked as light hearted and natural as she could, although in the back of her mind she wondered. Had she moved the papers? Had she been cleaning near there today and knocked them? Or had the children run past the desk when playing, maybe they had moved them accidently?

“What? Do you really want an answer to your stupid questions? Would I be here now if I hadn’t fixed the god dame computer? Frank and Grace are the same as yesterday when you saw them in the supermarket. They thought that I would like to hear all about the wonderful afternoon they spent talking to you in Wal-Mart” He dropped into his office chair and put his black leather bag beside it. He looked at the coffee rings on his desk, typical he thought. she’s out shopping all day and hasn’t even wiped the desk over. He dared to look over at the sink, yep washing up still waiting on the side from dinner. He had been able to fix a hard drive and explain office 2000 to an old man yet again since dinner, but what had she done? Not even the dishes.

“Would you like a coffee? Have you got much more to do?” Kristie thought it best to just change the subject. She realized too late she done that double question thing he hated so much. Her heart began to beat a pace faster she clenched her teeth. Had he noticed? Of course he’s noticed but will say anything?

David rolled his eyes to the back of his head. Why did she do that? She didn’t used to that dumb, babbling question after question. Kristie used to be funny and smart, most of all she used to be helpful. He took a deep breath in and spun his chair around to face her. Oh god she was doing the face, the face told him she was either going to walk away or start crying for no reason.

“How about you answer my question first” he began

“Sorry, which question?” Kristie couldn’t recall not answering a question, she was always careful to listen. She knew how important it was to David that you must listen. His eyes were beginning to burn into her, best look at the floor. I mustn’t give him cause to be angry with me. I mustn’t wake the children.

“Why were you snooping in my papers?” he was sure now, Kristie was defiantly up to something. She couldn’t even look him in the eye that said everything he needed to know!

Sophie hugged her legs behind her bedroom door, she listened in the darkness. Yes, he was in the house again.