A little souvenir of a terrible year

I know, it’s a cheerless title from a dismal song , but its been churning around in my muddy head for the past few days like a mantra.

Here we are at the denouement then, 2017 as a summary in paint, and I have to ask, was it a year well spent I wonder?

Don’t answer that.

Looking at it now, it could be an existential map of this annus horribillis, a veritable schizoid hell-spawn of conflict, angst, disembowellings, and death. It was certainly instilled with the spirit of these times we live in. I mean, one of the last pieces I did was a fetal man, digging his way out of the dark using a horn, growing from where his third eye would be. Talk about no shit Sherlock.

On the bleeding face of it, not my most prolific year perhaps, although it doesn’t account for the months of preparatory study and the two huge paintings I’m currently working on for the next show.
I’d almost pronounce 2017 -‘the calm before the storm’, if I hadn’t already been sodden by the reign.
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