As an iconic image used to the point of obsolescence by everyone from Warhol to Ron English, I realise that it’s not bringing anything new to the table.
Felt like a corpse today- one of those plastinated exhibits by Gunther Von whatsisface-posed in permanent stance, brush aloft, eyes like razor slashes, skin like alabaster. The irony isn’t lost on me of all people.
With the self portrait currently consuming me, I thought this sketch was too irresistible a prospect not to do. Of course there’s a part of me that balked at laying the cruel ravages of age bare on the slab for all to see, but the perverse side won out.
Week two of 2012 and I’m battling my annual cold, between a commission which I cannot share and a self portrait (which I want not to just yet). I’ve also been trying to bring Rise to completion-Trying being the operative…a perfect case of disconnect between whats on the canvas and in the minds eye. Will […]
Despite best efforts, Rise cannot rise to the occasion until it dries. I think it’s the new organic turps I’ve been using, it’s like a drying retardant, which would be fine except the snails pace makes it feel like it’s still 2011.
Each Solstice, I try to make a concession-or antidote- to the sentiments of the season, and create limited edition cards for my friends. This year being no exception, here is a drawing entitled ‘There’s no angels’ that shall be gracing mantles across the country.