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