Moleskine Pages -Lethal Drugs

It shocked them to realise that the dead carry on living in random pockets where they can still find comfort and smell our familiar scents. Life is a lethal drug...we were all running on the spot just about hanging on.

life kills

Moleskine Pages- When The Time Comes

When her time came, she chose to lay down in the middle of the road and wait for the sand to run out. To pass the hours, she read her book and snacked on a selection of biscuits.

Moleskine Pages - She Died Living

With nowhere to go, her soul gave up trying to leave. So she died while still living, and lived beyond death, and waited her chance.....

Moleskine Pages- Amniotic Sac

I never wanted to leave the amniotic sac. I was content there. I had everything I needed. I knew nothing good lay outside; so I would hang on as long as I could, but the walls were getting thinner and my guardian angels were preparing to fight for my soul. In the end they lost . I died while something else was born.

Moleskine Pages- A Plague Of Angels

The flies were a nuisance but no more so than the prim little cherubim; the little voices of conscience sent to plague us. God's mini tax inspectors keeping track of what is given and taken. The spare room held so many casualties of my war. So many stinking corpses I love too much to bury. So many shining hearts that now stain my clean floors with their decomposing compositions. As their grip loosens, I hold on a little bit tighter.

Moleskine Pages- Waiting For Ghosts

We waited impatiently for them to come back. We tended those eggs as if they were made in China of inferior materials by underpaid, overworked slaves. When the eggs hatch our lives can begin again. We will wake up fresh and rested, happy and hopeful. we are waiting to be haunted...waiting for ghosts.

Moleskine Pages- I Read the News

Their mother; Their first home was scheduled for demolition. She was packed with explosives to drown out the noise of her cries. She was a church and they had lost their faith.

Moleskine Pages - Bullets

As the kisses stopped, their hearts hardened and shrunk into two lead bullets that could kill winged creatures. Crows and ravens escaped unharmed but angels didn't.

Moleskine Pages- Lividity

A glorious spread, democratically reciprocol. Yet she remained angry...livid, even in death.

Molekine Pages- Bone Soup

The band sang acapella providing their own rhythm and blues. Dancing was awkward, ungainly and a little melancholy. She overlooked the fact that he was dead but how could she forgive his desertion? His bones offered some comfort, even more when she boiled them up for soup.

Moleskine Pages- The Family Feast

She rescued her proto-siblings from the family secrets box and made them into the party centre piece. Most chose to ignore the theme, the rest were uncomfortably enthusiastic. It took over twenty skewers to still the moving feast and a lifetime for the gusts to forget.

They watch over us with an envy tinged fondness; A sad resigned frustration that they can't save us. They are ghosts and ghosts have no dominion here.

Moleskine Pages- In The Garden Of Eden

He knew he had to die to get to heaven, he was o.k. with that...but he still couldn't find his way there.

Moleskine pages - How Do We Get To Heaven?

" She bequeathed death to all the lives she conjured up out of her rich catalogue. Her sentenses were never commuted. How could he ever forgive? How could he ever forget?
She loves them all so much!"

New Moleskine July 2011

 The second instalment of my current sketchbook. I am still working out what the overall meaning is and what the connecton  between all the images might be. I am open to suggestion and external input. Often an observer can see more clearly that I can what is going on.

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Graduation show Brighton University 2009

Some images of my graduation show. I decided that because my work was already very dense and a little chaotic, not to fight my instincts and create a dense and chaotic display. I had a section of one room plus three display tables for my sketch book.

This is part of the wall display. Some of the work was grouped together in black frames as part of a series, collages that dealt with birth and death. Otherwise there is no order or theme which made the hanging purely instinctive.

Anything not framed was hung using bull-dog clips, not very original I know, but I really didn't want anything pretentious or fashionable as that kind of stuff brings me out in hives and induces in me the urge to yell out rude words.

This kind of work and the way it is hanged (hung?) is not everyone's cup of tea but I did get two whole books worth of comments. There were only two negative comments one saying the work was ugly and unpleasant the other criticising the hanging method. If I'd had more money I would have framed everything beautifully and grouped it very sparsly so that each peace would shine on it's own. But on the whole It looked like the inside of my head and I prefer the honesty. This was me , and that is all I can offer.

A few more wall images. Some of them look a little distorted but that is because the weight of the paper started to sag with only one central bull-dog clip. It looked a lot better in real life. I included a few simple sketches just to add variety.

Ultimately I think it was quite a successful show as I almost sold out of work. I received a lot of commissions that kept me busy for ages afterwards. I did get a few time wasters that made special requests, asked for variations on some of the images, asked me to put aside a few pieces till later, only to change their minds at the last minute or told me they could no longer afford it. That was very annoying! But most people were a joy to deal with.

This display was in the main room, I had a further two tables in the hall on the ground floor. I could have easily filled a few more rooms as I had so much work! That is not a boast, it is a result of my inability to turn off and stop working, it really is a form of OCD. But I don't mind at all!

The small cards were tiny collages that were very fun to make. I used rubber stamps on a lot of them. I still have a few of these I must dig them out sometime and maybe I'll post them individually.

 These were very large sketch books that force me to work differently. More of a page of little conversations. I have been known to sell pages directly out of my sketchbooks. But I stopped doing that when I realised it was decimating the books . Now, if anyone wants a particular image I get an archival print made that I sign and mount. It is much cheaper and it keeps my books intact. Or I can do a version as a stand alone piece, it will never be exactly the same because I don't work that way. I really enjoyed the show and appreciated the feedback I received from people , the good and the not so good.

A new Moleskine began Jan 16th 2011

As I reach the end of a sketch book the temptation to rush and finish it can be very hard to resist! But I have learnt to enjoy slowing down and savouring the last couple of pages and making sure they are just as interesting (to me) as the first page. I do set myself a target of 8 weeks per book give or take a few days. At times, like Christmas when I am quite busy I'll stretch that to 10 weeks, but I don't feel happy about it. My challenge to myself is a minimum of one two page spread per day, so no sleep till I have achieved at least that! I put little clues on eventful days so when I look back through the book I have clear memories of what I was doing on hat day.  Having said that, once a few months (or years) have passed I can look through a book and have no recollection of any of it!
Over time I have collected a large stash of finished books that sit in the corner of my studio daring me to do something with them. I did break one of my most fundamental rules by selling one of the books to the the Aldrich Collection. I feel pretty ambivalent about that as I am not particularly attached to my books in fact I am strangely detached from them. I do though see the need of keeping them together simply as a sequence, every book represents a chunk of my life.

There is one volume that is more precious to me than the others, and it was the book that saw me through the awful last weeks of my pregnancy in 2003, the birth and then the death of my beautiful, perfect 7.5 lbs baby boy Cyrus five days later. It was that book that kept me sane. Some of the images and words are still very raw and I find it very difficult to look at them. One day I may summon the courage to publish some of the pages but I don't see the point of involving innocent bystanders in my own personal tragedy. I don't know I am writing this, it isn't something I have ever talked about to anyone other than my doctor and family , but heyho it's out there now.
Once a book is finished it joins it's predecessors on the shelf and I can pick a new one from my new pile. The feel, smell, and hope that com with a new book are one of my life's little pleasures. I'm excited, enthusiastic and full of ideas. So my new book on January !6th and I'm already 4 pages in. The book still looks and feels new , so I am still treating it with a stupid reverence that will shortly wear off ( thankfully).