Finger Folk

pissing about

good god is it that time already

quick sketches

I may be losing my gripself

Self Portrait

self portrait #3

what we did on our holidays

military madness

black hole

good god man

animal crackers

And What's This?

fuck knows

Simon and his Shoe Shoe Lovely Shoe Shoe Project

For this project we had to bring in our best shoes- Rip them apart, photograph, draw, scan, paint, rescan them, alter them in photoshop, and it was right good fun. Below you will find an extremely badly put together and not even chronological set of disgustingly garish results.

bringing colour into my world

various attempts at adding colour to the original black and white images, mostly paint and photoshop

heel no like it

i've got the shoe horn

a selection of very bad paintings and drawings which were great fun to do, but should really be for my eyes only, thank god nobody visits

latest project

copying, not as easy as it looks, evidently

the start of the old school project

I love this fella

 

 

Watercolour and 2b pencil

My First Watercolour

self portrait

Falling

Last night, I very nearly fell off the wagon. It would not have been as spectacular as I or most others would have expected, but the effects would have been catastrophic. From very early evening, all I could think about was getting drunk and smoking, no matter how hard I tried I could not remove these thoughts from my head. It took every sinew of strength I had to stop myself from grabbing that leftover from new year (and by now very well chilled) tin of lager from the fridge, rolling myself a smoke and shouting FUCK IT! Thank fuck I never, because this morning I don't have to live with the guilt and the inevitable black shadows which would have enveloped me, those big black dogs and the butterflies. Today I am free, still free from all I want to be. Taken at face value, my fall would have been a pathetic one, minor to the majority, from a molehill not a mountain, but the injuries sustained would have taken weeks to heal, and that's if I was extremely lucky.

The Darkest Hour

and so
they marched
in time, long hats, coats,

the palest
of faces in gloves,
the procession of shiny black coffins

winding its way
through the street, marching

to the beat, of my heart.

Flyblown

down
the rickety pipe

the last one
twists

into the pit,
that loathesome pit

ever so slow

it twists

and turns,

black.

The Red Death

In robes

stumbling
through crimson curtains

fraying cords
flaxen faces, watchful paintings

candlesticks

I fall into that writhing sea of bloody hands
and wake to witness

the rise
of that slow, macabre

morbid dance of death

the sun

http://scaryoldfilms.com/hammer.html

Proper Horror Story

mood board

uh huh oh eye

for eyes

I write poetry here if anyone's interested

http://allpoetry.com/Floorboards

Butterfly

on those

deep purple nights
when the wind howls outside

biting

and flying
around with the limbs

of dead trees 
in it's teeth and it's talons

I form my cocoon
fix a gaze on the eyes

or the light 

which surrounds her glass body

Brand New Start

What I just said

Art Attack

I've been a right miserable old bastard this weekend. Partly because I am a miserable old bastard and partly because this type project has been casting a black shadow over everything i've attempted to do. No inspiration here for me i'm afraid, but it's not because I hate type, far from it, I appreciate it, and understand it's importance, it's just that, well, it doesn't get my juices flowing in any way, shape or form. I've researched my chosen fonts/types til my eyes have really stung, i've attempted thumbnails and I have even been seen working on/with/against my arch nemesis, Adobe Illustrator. But it's not happening. I am sorry to say that I don't feel I will be falling in love with fonts anytime soon, certainly not in the same way I would with a painting or a drawing. I decided to take a break and I begun to look at the bigger picture, which for me is learning to draw, and after a few pages in my sketch book, I managed to forget all about type for a while, and my mood has miraculously lifted...as i've said before, I need to keep my eye on the prize, not get hung up on what I can't do, if I fail, I fail, I fail so fuck it.

Fonts are just not my type.

typography

Harry Clarke inspired

my new hero, mervyn peake