We’ve all heard the phrase ‘That ship has sailed’ well for this lady it undoubtedly has. She is pining for those halcyon days when her life was so much easier and straightforward. When her life wasn’t the mad dash that she lives through today, when she didn’t have to juggle everything in her life at the exact same time. Nowadays there isn’t even time to take a break.
The trouble is just last week she lost her Nokia 8110 which she treasured with all her heart. It’s sleek lines, it’s futuristic ‘slider’ form factor. After so many careful years she ended up leaving on the night bus whilst drunk, which she firmly blames on that chatty and well groomed guy she was trying to impress on the way home. Now though she has nothing. The man has gone home and now she is stuck in one of the lower levels of hell with her sister’s old iphone 4 with cracks on the screen.
People keep calling, texting, sexting, emailing, snapchatting, twittering, facebooking and instagramming. The fitness tracker keeps telling her to do more, the music app keeps telling her to download more stuff. It’s relentless and is all getting a bit too much. She’d love that phone back. Maybe eBay can help…
Title: Daily Lament
Materials: Paint pen, acrylic, ink, charcoal and Tipp Ex
I know the title sounds like a 70’s prog rock band or some dodgy porno but it’s not. It came to me in a dream where the Ladyfinger Cloud Pump is actually the newest and most revolutionary invention created by renowned British designer James Dyson. We’d been the best of friends for years and he was excited about his invention but didn’t reveal to me exactly what the device actually does.
After the name leaked media speculation as to the nature of the device was rife. I was given the task of coming up with some misleading marketing material to further muddy the waters and upon waking decided to fulfil my dream commission anyway. According to my dream the device will be available later this year so watch this space…
I’m in two minds over this pic. I can’t decide whether she looks like she’s been on the disco biscuits all night and is gurning like a donkey sucking a rolo or whether she has been having a little too much fun with some kind of intimate solo pursuit. Either way ecstasy figures in her immediate future in one way or another. Probably best just to leave her to it.
For no better reason than we can this was reimagined from actual news headlines. I fill my head with this grubby nonsense so you don’t have to. Vive la revolution!
Title: Ecstasy and me
Materials: Paint pen, acrylic and charcoal
In the great British tradition of sarcasm this one is dedicated to all the people out there who are about as much use as a concrete trampoline. So there I was in the studio when I found myself at the top of a ladder and in need of a bit of assistance. It just so happened that a couple of people were visiting at the time to check out a couple of our new pieces and have a beer. Anyway due to my precarious position I didn’t bother to turn round when I asked for help as I just thought one of them would hear and come to my aid. No joy.
After a further 30 seconds of struggling I could still hear them behind me so I shouted for help this time but still to no avail. After finally downing tools and climbing down I swung round to give these layabouts a piece of my mind when I realised they had headphones on and chatting happily whilst playing Call of Duty. Nice one. Cheers for the assist there…
Title: Well Handy
Materials: Watercolour pencil, ink, paint pen and pastel
In the Isle of Man there is something of a superstition whereby Manx people can’t say the name of one of those little furry things that were blamed for the Black Death, pestilence in general and a whole host of other nefarious things. The reasons for this have dissipated into the mists of time but the superstition remains and due to this quirk in Manx folklore there are a number of socially acceptable local alternatives which include joey, longtail, ringie, iron fella and roddan.
Recently young people have also begun saying ‘r-a-t’ owing to the influence of English immigrants but older people on the Isle of Man don’t tend to listen to those Jonny come-overs too much and certainly not on such serious subjects as these little buggers. There is a comparable taboo against uttering the word ‘rabbit’ on the Isle of Portland. Here ends the lesson.
Title: Mickey or a ringie?
Media: Acrylic and paint pen
Surely you’ve had a dead end job that actively sucks the life out of you each and every day you attend? I’m pretty sure we’ve all been there. I certainly have. One where you lived for the weekend. Hopefully that was a lesson learned early on (and most probably the hard way) but now we’re a little wiser have moved onto more enjoyable positions. Anyway today’s pieces are a paean to the life of the wage slave. We can see he’s got his identical work ‘game face’ in each picture. This is because his face is permanently in this configuration during office hours as it’s hard to generate any interest when you do pretty much the same thing repeatedly. Here’s a run down of his week:
Monday – a stress in all ways; from getting up to getting home and all in between. Blue Monday to be sure. Where’s the weekend?
Tuesday – a grey day. Not much happened. But it is Tuesday so no catastrophes is considered a win. Where’s the weekend?
Wednesday – A day out of the office attending a training course. More enjoyable because of the novelty of not being in the office but don’t get carried away. It’s only Wednesday. Where’s the weekend?
Thursday – Some rays of sunshine – both literal and metaphorical – are just beginning to show through. You know the weekend isn’t too far away and it’s Thirsty Thursday so things could be worse. Today feels a little shorter than the earlier days of the week. Still, where’s the weekend?
Friday – Much brighter all round. But still at work. The weekend is so close you can smell it. Where’s the weekend?
Title: Where’s the weekend? (Grey Tuesday)
Media: Stencils, spraypaint and dymo
Now i know you’ve all heard of a king’s ransom but have you ever heard of a clown’s ransom? Probably not and that’s because no one’s ever paid one. Who would?
That said no is quite sure where the term came about. Was it when a clown got kidnapped and a ransom demand was given but instead of paying they just let the clown get it? Or as some others postulate a clown once kidnapped a poor soul but when the clown asked everyone for a ransom they thought it was a joke and carried on with their day. Neither story ends well so i’m not really sure what the moral is. I’ll let you work it out for yourself.
Title: A clown’s ransom
Materials: Paint pen, acrylic, and charcoal