This story beings in the ancient way: Once upon a time, there was a young woman who lived on the outskirts of town, near where civilization ends and the Wild begins. She went about her business every single day; she did her spinning and mending, haggled with farmers at the market, and spent the mornings in her herb garden. She went to the well to gossip with the other town girls and braided her long curls in the style popular among them; she smiled at the local boys and farm hands like she knew she was supposed to; she imagined that someday she would be married off to one of them and bear him children, and her young life would fade as quickly as the beauty it took with it. This was the life of all the town girls, and no one had ever complained about it, that she knew of; how painful could it be?
But somehow something felt wrong. The maiden would sometime pause from her embroidery, look out the window, and be caught up in the beauty of the chicory or the sweet pea flowers growing along the dirt road. Somehow, something felt just slightly off: there was something about lowering her eyes from the sunbright window to the dark rows of tiny stitches she was slaving over that just felt horrifically unnatural.
One day when she rose from her bed, she noticed something different in the air, a kind of magical anticipation that stung her eyes and ran fingers of static through her hair. The girl walked to the door of her cottage, still barefoot and nightgowned, and her eyes were drawn to the edge of the wood. There, standing among the yellow toadflax and daisy fleabane, was an elegant doe, her rump speckled with dew and glistening in the early morning sunshine. Their eyes met, and somehow without the young woman's command, her feet started to move towards the animal. Together they fled into the forest; running side by side, the thumping beats of their footfalls were the rhythm of freedom to which they marched.
The young woman fled to the forest, and this is where she remains to this very day. Sometimes the town-dwellers and farmers caught glimpses of her, long blond curls unruly and tangled around twigs and flowers. Her eyes are beyond wild; they are elated, overjoyed, full of life and purity and freedom. Abandoning herself to the forest, she elevated her mind beyond the horrid confines of society and truly become what she was destined to be: The Wild Woman of the Wood.
Psst, remember that project I've been coyly mentioning all summer? The unrelated eye candy, are from a photoshoot for it with Ophanim Gothique and Lolita Nouveau. The lovely models here are my wonderful friends Crystal and Cate. Please stay tuned this Friday, 8/13/10 when I'm going to officially announce this project!
photos care of Sean Walsh
photos care of Sean Walsh