One minute it was over, then suddenly under, then seemingly normal and all in the space of a 2 minute window. Smoky just didn’t know what to do. For a start he couldn’t think straight and even if he could he wouldn’t know what to do either. The only nugget of information that popped in to his dim head was ‘Stop, Drop and Roll!’ and with nothing else to check him he did just that.
He banged his head against the white padded wall and had a sudden moment of clarity before another rapid loss of function. Ol’ Smoky never was the same after he came across that bale of African Gunji 65 back in the day. Some say that if you look real close you can still see the smoke swirling around behind his eyes…
Created using the magic of smoke, pencils and paint pen after I’d seen a Youtube video showing a guy doing something similar. I quite like the way he turned out in the end.
Here at id-iom there are a few things we love. Sunny days. Painting. And dispensing wisdom. Today we have the opportunity to combine all three and ‘If you’re in a fair fight…’ is the result. The original inspiration for this design came from the Polish fighter squadrons of WW2 who escaped to Britain to fight alongside the RAF after Poland had been invaded. Somehow that nugget of inspiration morphed into this piece. The muse works in mysterious ways. Anyway, as long as you’re digging the sage advice this dashing pilot is dishing out then all should be well. Just remember, failing to plan is planning to fail.
He’s on A2 paper and is made using the magic of spraypaint, stencils and imagination. If you’d like to give him a new home then drop us a line.
Perhaps unsurprisingly you get some pretty odd results when you type ‘fuck the republic’ into Google. I was struggling with this here write up previously and that google search has just derailed my train of thought entirely. It’s a picture of some guy with some text above. That’s all you’re getting from me today.
As usual I couldn’t really decide which colour background I liked so decided to do a couple of versions. She’s on A2 paper and is made using the magic of spraypaint, stencils and imagination. If you’d like to give her a new home then get in touch although based on today’s lacklustre write up I can completely understand if you didn’t.
The year is 2035. The place is London. Brexit has come and gone. Rogue stormtroopers now roam the streets. They’re armed and looking for food – just like the rest of us. They said there would be ‘adequate food supplies’ in the case of a ‘no deal’ brexit. They lied. The future is coming…
As Douglas Adams so rightly put it ‘It’s not the fall that kills you. It’s the sudden stop at the end’. Is this guy ever going to find that out? I could hardly resist a cheeky little unauthorised addition to the otherwise uninspiring flooring whilst up in Peterborough on the weekend. Have paint, will travel…
This is my favourite entry of the day. A slightly wonky looking Manx cat. ‘Nuff said.
We were at home on the Isle of Man recently for Islexpo and Year of our Island and were asked if we could come up with something interactive that could be taken round a few locations this summer. Our answer was an 8ft x 8ft magnetic blackboard (that has been handily crafted so it can be broken down for easier transportation – cheers Dean!) with a stencil of the Isle of Man so people could add a magnet for their favourite place or some chalk pens to add their thoughts or whatever they like about the island.
The first revelation is that you can get magnetic paint! And it works just fine. Nothing like live experimentation. The second is that we got away with including Blinky from The Simpsons out in the sea towards Sellafield. Win.
We here at id-iom seem to like Ramesses II or Ozymandias as the Greeks called him as this is our second picture based on one of the greatest pharaohs of the Egyptian Empire. This time I feel I should use the now famous words of Percy Shelley to describe the king of kings:
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
As a side note he lived till around the age of 90/91, most men don’t live that long nowadays and this was 1213 BC. Maybe there is hope for me then…