Naming, shaming and reclaiming...

This drawing was torturous. It's nothing like I'd hoped it would be. You win some, you lose some. In it's favour, it's made me think about perhaps needing to give things proper names. When I entered my drawings into a gallery exhibition recently, they needed names and it did my head in thinking of them. Art shouldn't need words, that's the whole point! And yet here I am writing about it, don't ever accuse me of being consistent. So, in spite of myself and after reading some Greek mythology as research for my next drawing, I call this "Thanatos," god of natural, gentle and non-violent death. Which is what this drawing was meant to express; being slowly reclaimed by the earth, still beautiful, just in a different way. I like it better already...

Thanatos 2017, black and violet ballpoint pen on paper

My silhouette is stationary...

I was looking forward to a weekend of vegetation. The plan was to get home on Friday and turn into furniture until Monday morning. But I woke up yesterday fizzing with energy, I couldn't keep still and the intense, delicate drawing that's consumed my January so far was definitely not the place to channel it. I needed to chuck ink about with no consideration for the end product (or the upholstery). I've used this technique before and I'm not going to say it works marvellously or that I love it, but it satisfies a need every now and again. I paint the shadows with masking fluid; ink in the whites then remove the masking. So here's my favourite from the cutting room floor, an experimental spaceboy. I've added a bit of black and white pen here and there this morning because I just cant leave things alone. I'm throwing him out there, because you don't know what you've got till someone tells you...

So it started there...

I've recently had these two drawings in a local open exhibition. It's the first time I've ever put anything on display in public (or at home for that matter, although I know there a few "private collections" in existence) but I thought it was about time I stopped being such a massive weirdo about it. I'm painfully shy when it comes to my art and I get in such a state when I'm about to show a drawing to someone, especially if they've asked for it. Which is why I never mentioned that I was showing anything until now...the exhibition ended an hour ago...sorry! One day I might do something normal. 

Like empty shells...

It often only occurs to me after a drawing is finished where the idea might have come from. I've probably said it before many times but it's subconscious, I find it very difficult to come up with something when I think "I'd like to include x/y/z in a drawing," but let my mind roam around and things appear. This, I now see, has some science fiction elements (no shit, it's a shell the size of a tower block!); Ray Bradbury's earpiece shells from Farenheit 451, Arthur C Clarke's imposing monoliths...none of this is intentional but it creeps in and curls up by my feet and I hear it breathing softly in the background, or is that just the snoring pug? 

I promised myself I would finish this before the year was out and for once I set a goal and stuck to it, long may that continue. It was a polishing up of an old idea and I can lay it to rest now, though I don't think it'll truly be the end; I like the uncanny feeling of unnatural scale. I'm looking forward to the stillness of January and the chance to rifle through my notes and scribbles for the next old/new thing. 

Happy New Year. 

Either it is, or it isn't...

Inspired by one of the most unusual things I've ever been presented with as a gift. In real life, both these beauties were sadly deceased, so this is the backstory. I'm not going to provide too much narrative; grief speaks for itself. A friend who saw this drawing today described moths as tiny humans with cloaks on creeping about at night. So if creepy, night-dwelling, dead stuff is your bag, this ones on me. Happy Halloween. 

What's deceased and what's alive...

Everything you see here has come straight from my mind. The inaccuracies, the bad perspective, the anguish...yes, I claim them all! I think we've all felt like this; the thing we want more than anything, forever outside of our reach. I hope I've captured something of that feeling and also the physical sense of animate vs inanimate; here but not really; vital parts missing...I park my dark in these crosshatched shadows and laugh a lot in real life as a result. It keeps me on the straight and narrow (most of the time). Finding somewhere to keep your melancholy doesn't mean you have to hide it or hide from it. Throw it out there...it works. 

Hope you're happy too...

One from the archives...Since I'm drawing either very slowly or not at all at the moment I thought I'd share this little ballpoint drawing from a few years back. It was for a (now disbanded) local band that my brother drummed for called J.A.R.S (hence the jar) to promote an EP they made called (you guessed it) My Friend Hope. They were quite specific about what they wanted but luckily at the time I had a bit of a thing for drawing glass jars and bottles. I toyed with the idea of putting something in the jar, I can't remember now what sort of things passed through my thought clouds but in the end it seemed that the title suggested emptiness waiting to be filled so it was left as it was. The typography is a bit dodgy and the perspective isn't right but the lads were quite happy with it...it's all subjective isn't it?