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Paint/Ink on Card
“So tell me you love me, Only for tonight, Only for one night, Even though you don’t love me. Just tell me you love me, I’ll give you what I need, I’ll give you all of me, Even though you don’t love...
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Ink on Linen
Working again with linen. When I said i’d try and use it sparingly. Meh, fuck what I said, we’re all different people every fifteen minutes, you know I write all this without a plan right? I wrapped a...
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Ink/Paint on Board #2
Sequestered away in my little space as I was, I saw the orange ink. And fucking went for it. That’s not true at all, it was a total accident. The tone was meant to be a ‘burnished gold’, or at least...
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Mixed Media on Card #2
It’s been a few days, yes, but it’s nice to think that even with a painfully tiring few weeks I haven’t stopped working on my own shit. This is my justification for poor time-keeping by the way. Still,...
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Ink/Paint on Card
“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in last night.” “I was trying to be quiet. Do you listen out for me coming in?” “Well no, but i’m a light sleeper, and it’s hard to mistake footsteps at night.” “Yes it is,...
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Acrylic on Cloth
Orange again, I know. Deliberately orange this time at least, I reckon that’s progress. Switched to acrylic for this one too, which explains the orange; I find it best to jump into an obscene run with...
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Graphite on Paper
“It’s not the material, or the subject matter a lot of the time. It’s the artist’s take on it.” I’ve thought about this line for so long, but it always sits right with me when I hear it. The material...
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Ink on Watercolour Paper
“Something burns away in my head every single day. All I feel I do is enable it.” “So why keep doing it?” “… ’cause there’s too much burning to want to stop and find out how much of me it’ll leave...
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Graphite on Paper #2
We stood by the window, pieces suspended to wait for the postman. Shoulders close, hair on end from the knuckle distance to skin on skin, I tried to stifle a smile noticing her paint graze across one...
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Mixed Media on Vinyl #2
Only taking pictures. You never needed them for that. Slate fills the room, a noise you can’t hear or taste or see. It burns to the touch but it touches. In the hair standing on your arm, the heat in...
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