A long time ago in a galaxy far away 23 talented reprobates were asked to use their creativeness to decorate some crates. Somehow we also made the list. The results are due to be auctioned for charity at the end of the month. You can click the link below to go to the Facebook page:
After a little thought our crate became an Emergency Graffiti Kit. In any given emergency, once you’ve got food and shelter sorted, then your mind would naturally turn to throwing up some sick dubs all over the now very instagrammable derelict walls.
With the Emergency Graffiti Kit we’ve got you covered. It even comes equipped with some lights so you can find it in the dark and then see what you’re painting. It also has the very practical use of being able to write on roofs to signal to the emergency services. And you can store all your precious things in the crate itself. All in all very practical methinks…
When Becky was little all she wanted to do was follow her father in the family business and become an award-winning pastry chef. He taught her all he knew but then puberty changed everything.
Amongst other changes her hands warmed up to such a degree that they could become smoking hot if she got at all excited. You can imagine what that meant for her pastry career. She could cremate a croissant before it could be wrapped. Now she can’t even work indoors for fears of health & safety claims against her for second-hand smoke.
What is the moral of this story I hear you ask. Well, that’s for me to know and you to find out. She’s A3 and made using the magic of the imagination, pencil, acrylic and smoke. Drop us a line if interested.
I was in the studio the other day just minding my own business and painting away quite contently when this chump walks in and starts talking out the side of his neck at me. Although somewhat taken aback by this vitriolic outburst I initially managed to remain calm and ask him what on earth he thought he was doing. It was only when he reached for the canvas I was painting that I swung into action.
From there it escalated quickly. Once the dust had settled and we’d picked ourselves up off the floor we managed to work out what had happened. It turned out that I’d mistakenly walked into his studio and started working on his canvas (I thought it looked a bit different to the last time I was working on it but I just thought that was the other half of id-iom) and so he’d got a little tetchy with me. In way of making it up to him I promised I’d do him a portrait. And this is what he’s getting. That’ll teach him to talk to me like that…
Title: If only it was just my ego
The years had passed slowly since the dark times at the Feast of McDonald’s. The war with the gulls was now over – with untold casualties on both sides – but the realm as a whole had survived and had now seen peace for a good while under his rule. Seismic changes were already in motion though as the King of the Corvidae had cawed for the very last time. The gears of war were turning once more. The corvidae needed to appoint a new king who could shoulder the mighty burden set before him.
For most the only real potential successor was Belasko. He had proved his mettle many times before both in battle and in diplomacy but he was getting on a little in age. The majority of his potential subjects didn’t really consider this a problem but he was deeply worried about his suitability for the role. He was a soldier, not a leader, as he kept telling himself and the many worried councillors that were scurrying around him but the more he brought this point up the more everyone got excited.
He knew in his heart that the Corvidae required another type of leader, one that was not drenched in blood and tied to the past like himself. At the same time he realised the tide of history may just carry him along regardless. This would require some machavellian dexterity he wasn’t sure he still possessed. He would certainly have to ruffle some feathers and didn’t have much time to lose but he had been in this game long enough to know that if he played his cards just right he might just be able to select the right bird for the job…
If you like this then you’ll be glad to know we’ve got previous in the world of crow related art. It is, in fact, a sequel to an earlier piece called King of the Corvidae.
Title: As the crow dies
Media: Ink, acrylic and paint pen
Make love not war. It’s a pretty straightforward slogan on this one and it would seem this couple is taking it all quite literally. But I think perhaps it’s worth repeating given the troubling times we find ourselves living in.
With full on wars, proxy wars and terrorism springing up all over the world a little more love would go a long way. Originally from 1960’s US counter-culture movement it’s a pretty simple anti-war sentiment that is still pretty relevant.
As an aside I’ve used my favourite new font for the text on this called Sans Forgetica. It was developed by a multidisciplinary team of designers and behavioural scientists at RMIT University. It’s purposely more difficult to read than standard fonts as the ‘desirable difficulty’ you experience when reading it prompts your brain to engage in deeper processing. Which is both pretty cool and very fitting considering the topic. Win all round.
Make Love Not War is on A2 and has been created using the magic of spraypaint, stencils and imagination. Drop us a line if interested…
Some people say soul music drips with emotion but with this lady it is in fact her actual soul that’s slowly dripping away. She’s currently happy with that as well for she doesn’t really seem to care about normal life much any more, if at all. All that interests her now are things like dubious liaisons with pretty men, driving fast cars at breakneck speeds, getting her daily recommended intake of water through vodka and taking enough drugs to take down a fully grown elephant and its calf. And somehow she does all this with a wink and a smile.
To some she’s killing herself and to others she’s living her life to the full. Either way I hope she’ll grow out of it soon because i’m pretty sure it doesn’t have a happy ending…
Title: Let it drip from my soul
Materials: Paint pen, acrylic, pencil and charcoal
The year is 1974 and Herbert Bates is coming up the driveway to the house he shares with his mother with this somewhat salacious looking young lady. He met her just this evening. He’d like her to stay. Herbert is 44 years of age. He’s concerned about how he’s going to break the news to mother. She never does take surprises very well…
Break the News to Mother is on A2 and has been created using the magic of spraypaint, stencils and imagination. Drop us a line if interested…