Encircling my sly little fox, a milky blue-green spot light and a field of bubble gum pink.
I just came back from the cinema where I saw the silent, black and white film The Artist. As a girl brought up on black and white pictures and Charlie Chaplin, I relished the thought of seeing a silver movie once again on the silver screen. I felt like that girl in The Purple Rose of Cairo, like I had been sucked back through time to an age where guys danced on screen and wore bandit masks. The movie itself was a lovely story and I was caught up in the laughs and low points, caring about each character. I can see why the Academy awarded it with Best Picture, and I can see why some people were puzzled by it. As for me though, I loved every wavering, glowing second of days gone by.
Stay Artsy & DFTBA