Things have been getting a little weird since lockdown. The intense boredom and general anxiety mix together in some odd combinations. In order to combat this I thought a self-portrait may be in order. I was wrong.
Looking at the paper in front of me I saw myself staring back or at least some facsimile of me – but things just weren’t quite right. The head too elongated, the nose too small but the dead, lifeless eyes I seemed to have got just right.
Then I realised it wasn’t really me but that unflinching dolt High Risk Hugo. A stain on society if ever I saw one. A man who on his good days was more like Chuck Norris on flakka trying to chat up your girlfriend but on his bad days the social equivalent of someone slipping a dead slug in your mouth and holding it shut.
I’ll not be doing another selfie anytime soon. We don’t need to let that particular cat out of the bag…
We had a small competition a little while ago on Facebook where I posted the image below (with the caption at the bottom cropped off) and had people guess what the rabbit was up to.
The answers regarding what the bunny were up to were pretty much uniformly bad suggesting that he was a serial killer or perhaps some kind of drug addict. Personally I think it’s the look in his beady little eye that gives that impression. The poster suggests otherwise. Patrick (for that is his name) is actually putting in or otherwise adjusting his new hearing aids. Assumably it’s so he can hear the blood curdling screams of his victims or hear his dealer when he calls him up.
The truth is bad things just seem to follow Patrick wherever he goes. He was kicked out of his warren at the tender age of 2 when he was still a big ball of fluff but they already knew then what i’m telling you now. Nobody really knows what he was up to for the next few years. Some say he spent some time with an unorthodox Irish shaman trying to learn the mysteries of life, others that he was a ruthless pimp in Bolton and there’s one person who swears he was heavily involved with the creation of One Direction. Maybe all three are true? Anyway, the next time we have any concrete evidence of his whereabouts is from medical records suggesting he suffered some kind of traumatic ear loss. There are no details as to how or why.
Today’s piece was the prize for the closest guess as to what Patrick was doing and gives us some kind of update on what he’s doing now. Exactly what that is I’m not sure. It doesn’t look particularly good though. It’s called ‘Dead Bad Dibo Bunny’ and is currently in its new home in Germany. That’s all I know for sure…
Have you ever heard of ‘The Dead Dog Squad’? I would imagine that you’ve never heard of them but let me assure you they do actually exist, they are very much real and are also very very good at their job. If you don’t know what they do then I’m certainly not at liberty to tell you. But you can rest assured their job is vital to your continued existence although you’ll never know it. The man in the picture is a retired member of the team and that’s the only way i could get to paint him. I probably shouldn’t be telling you about it but i’m sure i’ll be fine. Maybe.
Title: The Dead Dog Squad
Materials: Acrylic, spray paint, paint pen and charcoal
This picture was painted on the run up to Christmas where we are inundated with strange & nonsensical perfume and supermarket ad’s, there’s Christmas songs playing non-stop and I also heard some carol singers (I actually quite like carol singers and they are one of the things i enjoy about Christmas). It’s meant to be Spring time now and this post is still accompanied by freezing conditions and high winds. What other time of year could it possibly be? To throw our Springtime hat into the ring we bring you ‘Dead Bad Shot’. It features a lot of red. Like roses. And blood.
This one is definitely from left field and is probably some kind of portal into my tar black soul. I’m probably baring my innermost fears and don’t even know about it. I’m sure a psychiatrist could probably have more fun with this than the old Rorschach test. Anyway I have to go as there are other dark and creepy thoughts just begging to be let out of my head and set down on paper. Toodle pip for now!
It is A2 in size and is made using the magic of acrylic paint and ink. Signed on reverse.
I definitely think i’m more of a vestiphobe than a gymnophobe. In case you didn’t know, gymnophobia is the irrational fear of nudity (they may worry excessively about seeing others naked or being seen naked, or both) whilst vestiphobia is the overwhelming and irrational fear of clothing. Sometimes it all just gets a little much for me and I feel I have to divest myself of my clothing and have a little dance round the front room. Despite the fact my girlfriend calls this sexual deviance/assault i’m sticking by the fact that i’m a sometime vestiphobe. So there you have it. That’s my defence and i’m sticking to it.
War! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing! Say it again! – so sang Edwin Starr in 1970 on the anti-Vietnam song ‘War’ (which, i was interested to learn was originally recorded by The Temptations but not released as they didn’t want to alienate their more conservative fans). Whilst i have a lot of respect for our armed forces and the work they do it is generally political forces which dictate what they do and when – and this can sometimes lead to questionable decisions being made regarding their deployment. That’s all i really want to say on the issue as i think this piece largely speaks for itself…
Title: F*@k this for a game of soldiers
Media: Screenprint, acrylic, acrylic and spraypaint