Myrema
Artist Penelope O’Gara
Vintage silk, lace, chiffon & jewellery; wool & wire
49cm H x 36cm W
Myrema once met the Count himself, prowling the alleys of a certain small town which I shall not name for fear of causing panic therein. Fortunately for our blue-haired beauty, he recognised her as one of his own kind before sinking those infamous fangs into her flesh - even she would have battled to survive his blood-draining attentions. She loves to share the story of the hours they spent hunting together, swooping from the dark sky to ambush any unfortunate soul abroad, revelling in their bloodlust & finding a voyeuristic thrill in observing each other's technique. How many poor souls died that night? Suffice it to say that their joint depradations left enough exsanguinated bodies behind for the nobleman's servants to resort to extraordinary methods of disposal, procuring a farm cart in which to transport the remains to a convenient sea cliff.
Artist Penelope O’Gara
Vintage silk, lace, chiffon & jewellery; wool & wire
49cm H x 36cm W
Myrema once met the Count himself, prowling the alleys of a certain small town which I shall not name for fear of causing panic therein. Fortunately for our blue-haired beauty, he recognised her as one of his own kind before sinking those infamous fangs into her flesh - even she would have battled to survive his blood-draining attentions. She loves to share the story of the hours they spent hunting together, swooping from the dark sky to ambush any unfortunate soul abroad, revelling in their bloodlust & finding a voyeuristic thrill in observing each other's technique. How many poor souls died that night? Suffice it to say that their joint depradations left enough exsanguinated bodies behind for the nobleman's servants to resort to extraordinary methods of disposal, procuring a farm cart in which to transport the remains to a convenient sea cliff.
Artist Penelope O’Gara
Vintage silk, lace, chiffon & jewellery; wool & wire
49cm H x 36cm W
Myrema once met the Count himself, prowling the alleys of a certain small town which I shall not name for fear of causing panic therein. Fortunately for our blue-haired beauty, he recognised her as one of his own kind before sinking those infamous fangs into her flesh - even she would have battled to survive his blood-draining attentions. She loves to share the story of the hours they spent hunting together, swooping from the dark sky to ambush any unfortunate soul abroad, revelling in their bloodlust & finding a voyeuristic thrill in observing each other's technique. How many poor souls died that night? Suffice it to say that their joint depradations left enough exsanguinated bodies behind for the nobleman's servants to resort to extraordinary methods of disposal, procuring a farm cart in which to transport the remains to a convenient sea cliff.
