an ode to a pikey.

My beloved Jasmina-anchovina.

My daytime eye-candy.

Face of an angel.

Mouth of a fish wife.

snippets from a lengthy evaluation

'The previous two years on FINE ART FOR DESIGN have provided me with the most drastic learning curve of my educational life. My work, and the person I was, two years ago, feel a world away from the work I am making today and the person I have become as a result of this learning process. I think it’s close to inconceivable that prior to this course, there was no emphasis on me being at the root of my own practice, with my interests and strengths steering it in its journey of development. It was the realisation of this, and being taught to question my own thoughts and opinions, that have made this experience no t only enjoyable (which still feels like a novelty), but liberating too at the sheer thought of what I could achieve with my work.'

'In the second year, TIME MANAGEMENT was an issue, somewhat. Although I frequently meet deadlines, it can take me some time to get fully engaged in a project, spending too much time researching and PROCRASTINATING, to a degree. I aim to minimise this in the third year. I would like to really ‘push’ myself to create exciting new work, using working methods I have established throughout the past two years, but maintaining a playfulness to rid the work of any bland predictability. I think that continuing where I ended in second year, illustrating on found garments and shoes, is an appropriate choice for starting my third year practice as it was not only ENJOYABLE, but PLAYFUL and it allows the character of the object to provide me subject matter to make illustrations about.'

summer project: episode 6 – BANANA.

summer project: episode 5 – MOUSETRAPS.

summer project: episode 4 – PENCILS.

An unassuming white sheet of A4 instructed me to make work with, or about, 5 pencils. Of course, I obeyed.

After procrastinating in a truly adult fashion, by watching criminal amounts of Jersey Shore (don’t judge), I resolved to give myself a single day to complete this particular project (needless to say it was a dull, drizzly afternoon, with no Jersey Shore available to quench my refined televisual tastes). Immediately, my enthusiastic mood was thwarted upon the realisation that I didn’t own any PROPER pencils. By PROPER pencils, it should be noted that I’m referring to the standard yellow and black striped pencils which are an integral chunk of my memory as a primary school pupil.

As young reckless infants, we are encouraged to love and treasure them, treat them with respect and care until.... Suddenly our handwriting is suitably joined up, with the right angle of pretentious slant and we are awarded an ink pen as a trophy for our compliance to the handwriting police.

Anyway! A decision to paint my inferior pencils to look like my beloved childhood pencils set the wheel in motion. I wrote a guide on what I thought was required to become a successful illustrator and subsequently allocated each individually painted pencil an essential role as a functioning instrument in an illustrator’s tool kit.

N.B. I don’t recommend, however successful you are as an illustrator, that you extract tea bags from your brews with a moderately sharp pencil; it may result in lots of floaty tea-leaf-y bits escaping into your brew. Catastrophe!

summer project: episode 3 – TORCH.

Firstly, I must clarify that I am, in no way, a torch enthusiast; however, there’s an unanticipated feeling of importance and authority that comes along with walking around all afternoon, brandishing a torch. Crawling around my house, feeling like a private investigator, with the torch effectively becoming an extension of my arm, I finally settled under my desk and began to muck about making hand shadow puppets. During some late night researching, I found an old book with a guide to making ‘perfect free-hand shadow puppets’ which, apparently, required little time and minimal effort, with no difficulty. Apparently. This un-accurately described and generally over-ambitious book, (which was aimed at children, may I point out!) left me feeling stupid, inadequate and incredibly disappointed that I was still barely able to make the classic ‘bunny rabbit’ shadow puppet, never mind a hand shadow puppet of a small Arab boy riding a camel. Regardless of my failure, this debacle spurred me to create my own ‘Beginners Guide to Hand-Shadow Puppetry’ which is equally, if not more, unachievable; although its much nicer to look at, I’d like to think.

This is the envelope which contains the illustrations. I purposely put the illustrations in a manila envelope as I think that it conveys the sense of importance and sort of secrecy that I felt whilst snooping around with my torch; a little like a spy receiving his latest mission. I think the envelope gives the illustrations a sense of purpose; a sense that it’s a task, or even a challenge, to be completed.

summer project: episode 2 – BALL.

Summer caused me to develop a mild case of split personality disorder. I was a tabard-wearing, meat ninja during the day; weighing single slices of boiled ham for old ladies who, everyday, complained about the rising price of meat (which, actually, remained constant), whilst at night, I became an illustrator.. Somewhat like a seemingly unsuspecting business man’s transformation into a night-time vigilante (minus the bravery and latex costume).

This double life required extensive time planning, and with only a week left before returning to college, a ‘Ball’ project to complete and a holiday to America awaiting me, I boarded my flight tactically in possession of a Khadi sketchbook and a BALL-point pen ( see what I did there?). The next week was spent using my sketchbook as a depository for my personal musings regarding my surroundings (as well as over-ambitiously heaping my plate at buffets and eating my body’s weight in Cheetos).

summer project: episode 1 – STRING.

Thinking about ways in which I could make work either with, or about, string, consumed my life for, at least, a solid 48 hours during summer. It occupied my mind whilst I sold sliced meat to bitter elderly customers, made pork, dripping and crab salad sandwiches for business men with disturbing sandwich preferences, and whilst I served pies to inebriated rugby fans. Mentally, I had devised, what felt like, 101 uses for a ball of string. Naturally, this became the title for a book work, which contains 13 cherry-picked uses, each presented on a double page combining image and text.

A book of my dad’s, ‘Mystery Stories’ by Enid Blyton, became the shell for my illustrated book. Illustrations in ink, paint and collage, exploit, as well as, bastardise the beauty of the original book, which was read to me as a child.

As well as the retro aesthetics of the book, I chose the book because it possessed a ‘used’ tactile quality, that makes reading the book an ‘experience’, and I feel that this worn, tactile quality (even down to the smell of the book) gives my illustrations a sense of validation – Interaction is required from the reader to hold the work and turn pages, extinguishing any distance between the viewer and the illustrations.

first day stubble

Having run a painfully mediocre blog in the past, embarking upon this new blog makes me feel somewhat like a parent; a parent who, having failed their first child (now a young ruffian), is nauseatingly determined to raise their second child to a much higher standard - to be no less than a modern day Jesus... or the next Prime Minister. This time round, I intend to be the epitome of helicopter parenting, in blogging terms, of course.

And so, to aptly set the tone of this blog, here I am with a beard.