Sleep

No way back

2012-02-13T14:07:00.000-08:00

Celestial reveries

The palpations of the heart render quietly

Abbreviated by sudden movement,

Punctuated by the jarring of loosened skins

Don't come round if you don't wanna feel nothin'

2012-02-01T11:32:00.000-08:00

We listened to shoegaze together up in my room whilst it was getting real late & really early too. I loved to sink deeper down in to those sounds. The birds outside reminded us of our disobedience to follow the day and made us feel young and alive. We were young alright, but most of us felt dead. I had my legs crossed and my back arched, twitching my impatient fingers, tapping off the charred dust on to a damp carpet with my eyes heavily averted to the floor.

In ode to the basement

2012-01-25T08:55:00.000-08:00

How are you?

2012-01-16T13:31:00.000-08:00

When I look in to their eyes, they are clouded like milky water. The white part mixes with the stormy black part and the iris becomes a spoiled colour. People have thought this be a true sign of being possessed, when the eyes look up to the heavens and then spill into the back of the skull. Inside the dark sockets the pigmented iris stares at that which occupies it.

Sorry for the things we've seen

2012-01-08T12:28:00.000-08:00

Within these years I have met many characters. Some I know a fair amount about, others perhaps a little too much and then there are those I know almost nothing. If I could summon up the strength to articulate their persona, manner and partial existence it would take me some time, so instead I chose to photograph their menial moments in front of my camera; distinct in its openness to be photographed. I express immense gratitude to the sitters in my images for allowing me to open up unseen horizons, if only for a temporary moment. On reflection this work occupies deeper meanings that tie in with the the varied personalities in my family that have fascinated me since I was young. Schizophrenia has always reminded me of two entities kissing, a ridiculously impractical action that is hidden within the dark wet crevices of two strangers. Conjoined and openly represented as a charged spectacle, careless of the viewers gaze it is both devouring and destructive.

“The whole cosmos can be described in a kiss. Eyes are shut and everything becomes perception. In the kiss another and uncharted for of communication takes place: all judgments and definitions of reality are suspended. Objectivity, rationality and order lose all meaning.” Poiiv – Per Huttner

People have always been the most exciting subject for me; because it is only natural we associate by comparison, declare emotion within empathy and remind ourselves of our own uncertain identity by looking it straight in the eyes. What particularly interests me about how we are perceived is the many facets and faces that from a young age we’ve accustomed ourselves with. How our troubling, enlightening and frightening existential journey up to now has made us who we are. In this transitional work I want the viewers ideas to swim freely, not be dictated to. Nor do I wish to offer any concrete answers, but rather, raise more questions upon the very fundamental origins of being.

‘Sorry for the things we’ve seen’ publication
£6.00

www.booksandothers.org

Lilly

2011-12-26T06:58:00.000-08:00

Lolita, languished fire of my loins. Your youthful presence is a wobbling facade. Striking & bold, large scented vulva, voluptuous personality and delicate insides. Everything soon drops & even you, with that neutral stance and those long snowflake limbs will fall to the floor with a soft blow.

Risograph

2011-12-12T13:53:00.000-08:00

The Risograph machine spits out paper and makes vulgar sounds. He is a right rebellious punk, with his disorderly ink blotches and paper jams, his humongous body sat right opposite our bed, heavy dense and just there. But underneath this troubling metal lies delicacy and a torturous temperament that is just begging to be noticed. Oh you whirring aggressive machine, you loveable chunk of rigidity.

Wonderment

2011-12-02T09:45:00.000-08:00

Mortar

2011-11-24T05:28:00.000-08:00

How I would disappear in the night, the faint sound of a track from the early nineties ringing and bouncing off those red bricks, the mortar crumbling and filling the occasion with sentiment.

When you're buried and gone

2011-11-13T05:57:00.001-08:00

When an unsuccessful actress commits suicide, her father makes it look like murder so that, for once, she shall get attention.

Far away lands

2011-11-10T13:27:00.000-08:00

2011-11-01T15:22:00.000-07:00

“Visible and mobile, my body is a thing among things; it's caught in the fabric of the world, and its cohesion is that of a thing. But, because it moves itself and sees, it holds things in a circle around itself.” - Maurice Merleau-Ponty

2011-10-16T10:18:00.000-07:00

empty parks

2011-10-05T10:12:00.000-07:00

Empty theme parks and silent tide feel bloated with wonder whilst watching the slowest of evenings undress.

Triggered by a song

2011-09-15T12:03:00.000-07:00

One time when I was high on acid I listened to this sweet surrending song that made my cheeks wet. Such unbelievably intense palpatations of the heart and the exhilerating sense of a momentous occasion condensed. It was breath taking. I couldn't help myself in front of these vacant faces to feel such exerted happiness; like I had written the song and performed it to myself fully understanding its intricacies for the first time.

2011-09-07T02:17:00.000-07:00

2011-08-30T09:07:00.000-07:00

Vibrating like sex toys

2011-08-22T12:53:00.000-07:00

They're all starting to shake violently

setting fireworks off mid day

2011-08-16T13:49:00.000-07:00

Spider lashes

2011-08-01T12:47:00.000-07:00

Out the corner of you eye you see the fluttering lashes, darting over the cracks tracing the silhouette of the cranium down the neck and off.. Just like that. Scared for it's life it dances badly over the floorboards looking for cover amongst their feet.

The day we followed the train tracks

2011-07-23T09:27:00.000-07:00

How long should I look at you

2011-07-17T02:51:00.000-07:00

New zine for sale - Contributing works from myself and Alex Bailey. Comprises of a series in B&W in the first half and a Colour series in the second - £4.00.

Sorry for the things we've seen

2011-07-11T11:02:00.000-07:00

The cranes dangled tooth-thread birds that were hardly audible in the darkening sky, they fluttered like the eyes of those in deep sleep. I was in awe that my jaw loosened and the plaque on my gums shifted deeper in my mouth to hide. Then from no-where the wallowing riffs from a song I hadn’t heard for years played. It whirred into the air around me and reminded me why I was standing there.

superhuman happiness

2011-06-23T03:49:00.000-07:00

Make it up as you go along

2011-06-08T09:26:00.000-07:00

2011-06-06T03:54:00.000-07:00

< click >

2011-06-02T06:38:00.000-07:00

The flexing of their tight flesh on their foreheads made me realise they were thinking. There were very few clues as to what, but their skin was shiny and wet looking like it had recently been moisturized. Hair stuck to the forehead and side of the face; their breathing remained steady.

Walking at night

2011-06-02T06:14:00.000-07:00

The influx of appropriation

beyond repair

2011-05-30T12:27:00.000-07:00

Within seconds it came hurtling towards them. Bystanders gawped, squinted with a morbid curiosity, discreetly allowing the scene to fill the small gaps in their teeth. An obese desire rived within the depths of their shallow bodies. What was it to understand or even acknowledge what had happened in that moment and why. "This is beyond repair" screamed a grey head.

Kerry Katona

2011-05-11T04:07:00.000-07:00

Suddenly it shifts some, squabbles with itself and causes a scene. A squashed centi-something rotates with legs bouncing up and down thematically like the ivories of a piano. Indigestible debris causes a stubborn mess on the carpet made worse by the loitering hooves of others overlooking. Curdling loins and sneering bystanders speculate whether it mimes.

2011-05-10T04:15:00.000-07:00

Speckled eyes

2011-04-27T06:15:00.000-07:00

2011-04-18T05:43:00.000-07:00

Stories shared amongst the young

2011-04-12T10:50:00.000-07:00

I remember some brief tale that was shared to me, came from a young raspberry coloured tongue. It told me about a girl being alone at home when her parents went to the movies one night (they were American) She wasn't scared because of this pet dog of hers who kept her company throughout the evening. So when going to bed in the darkness, she put her hand down to the dog and it licked her hand, reassuring her she was not alone and had nothing to be scared of. She could hear dripping from the bathroom after some time but was too scared to go check in the darkness on her own. Putting her hand down to into the blackness beneath her bed again she was licked. She thought she should go stop the dripping tap that persisted, that she shouldn't be so silly and that her pet dog would protect her from all that lay in the dark. Getting up on to her legs and levitating dream-like to the bathroom she stopped and froze. With the creaking of a door, and the blinding light that switched on from her trembling fingers, she saw that her pet dogs neck had been slashed and it's head was hanging from the shower rail, the bath bloodied.

2011-04-05T07:56:00.000-07:00

The repetitive engravings of a hungry fork on a table.

blanket

2011-03-17T07:30:00.000-07:00

Being wrapped in God's warmest blanket

human insides

2011-03-15T07:57:00.000-07:00

When roaming, it were like my very wet and human insides had levitated up from where they lay deep inside. The dank internal crevice where I had known a number of slugs, newts and the occasional woodlouse to slumber suddenly steamed up some, whistling loudly. It evaporated and exaggerated; left leaving all that had looked so ugly seem otherworldly and beautiful.

Into thin air

2011-03-06T09:10:00.000-08:00

“When you’re playing the role of somebody coming apart, it has organisation and order; when you’re observing yourself coming apart, playing the role of your own demise, that’s something else, something awash with terror and fear.”

New home-made publication coming soon.

spilt milk

2011-02-15T05:25:00.000-08:00

heavy

2011-02-08T12:58:00.000-08:00

You only allowed me to take your picture so that you could prove to some doctor that the lines on your face were worth erasing for free. It must be the only time i can remember us being in such a circumstance, our heavy lids connecting in such a way; slightly dull but explicit with quiet momentum.

dry blood

2011-01-27T11:30:00.000-08:00

Cutting up old clothes to reinvent them. Messy alterations, advances and bloodied blemishes; it will always follow in the same transitional way, thread bare, limp-loss and languid.

Its my party & i'll cry..

2011-01-21T09:18:00.000-08:00

Balloon shaped tears that fall to the floor,

The dancing lids of an epileptic

2011-01-06T06:22:00.000-08:00

A moths bashfull wing caught in the seductive light of an underground bunker, flashing glimpses of sound render from a forgotton scratched record, the blunt needle pentrating what triumphant sound it can.

outsider

2010-12-27T09:48:00.000-08:00

"All that remained to hope was that on the day of my execution there should be a huge crowd of spectators and that they should greet me with howls of execration."

Merry christmas

2010-12-25T11:37:00.000-08:00

Photos were taken when working in a Birmingham Christmas grotto for six weeks as an elf

Succulence

2010-12-18T08:51:00.000-08:00

Picking up and remembering small details, little specimens of meaty memory revived. Sleep and sink in to that relocated space, shifting unnecessarily in front of beings who plague the minds of many with soft-spoken anxieties, pleasantly painful. The beating heart of a ressurected boar, the succulent juices of their meat half raw and freshly squeezed into a tall sweating glass.

To run far away

2010-12-17T01:38:00.000-08:00

Shall we just get up and go now? I don't like running late for unimportant dates and i got one right now.

x

2010-12-09T13:57:00.000-08:00

"l'd never do enough to show you what you mean to me, but i will try.."

at what point

2010-11-30T13:46:00.000-08:00

At what point does the skin break.. To reduce to discolouration, to an indent, to blood, to being severed until completely disconnected? At what point do the sockets look more like the remains of a skeletal abyss, one that looks back with vacancy and certainty?

learn to fly

2010-11-25T14:25:00.000-08:00

A crunchy carpet of flies, cschh cschh,
a swivel on the heel.

heavy wings

2010-11-13T14:22:00.000-08:00

Those guzzling and slit throated sounds.

The lady had tried to get back up from falling on the ice but couldn't help but frantically tumble about some more. Struggled like a fish out of water. Like some pathetic and absurd drowning bird, who cooing and sliding some, over and over, falls to the edge with heavy wings.

cats rage

2010-11-04T10:50:00.000-07:00

"A cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering.."

"tell me about yourself.."

2010-11-03T12:35:00.000-07:00

Staring at me behind a distance of heavy dense material are those bare lips and then those damn words. "So, tell me about yourself.." How do I tell this lady about myself? I obviously know what she wants to hear, but maybe she'd want more - humour, impressiveness, laid-backness, togetherness. How can I even go into any vague recollection of myself on the spot like this?

I feel I should have told her that on the journey here waiting to cross at the red lights the neon lady holding a lollipop helped me cross the road. I understand her role is to assist the children by walking courageously into the busy street littered with cars, holding on to her sticky and sugary stop sign like some sort of warped Amazonian lady of the streets. Many thoughts fluttered in my head.. Do i acknowledge her being the grown up lady i am presumed to be? Maybe she is belittling my road safety? Am i to cross over without her or do i wait for her? The light is red now and i'm in a considerable rush. Perhaps i smile as broadly as the distance this interviewee is from me and thank the lollypop lady Sheila her for her time, skipping off as would a kid. How to differentiate the right the wrong and the absurd is just as it is to tell anyone in any minor detail about yourself.

Cave heads

2010-10-20T08:52:00.000-07:00

I think it is in our natural way to perceive all that is going on outside inwardly. Human experience is the only thing I can base such knowledge upon. When reading the lines of others - scrawls of lists, damp dreams, lost lyrics, disembowelled diaries, why is it i feel the need to associate so excessively? Believing that this stranger speaks about me fluently, secretly, unknowingly. The guy on the radio sings about love, loss, life and Luxembourg. I automatically feel myself drawn with symbolic relevance even with the knowledge that I have never been to this part of Europe. I insist i have referenced the other three themes at some point and so I sing along. In reality this stranger sings to everyone who takes the time to listen, even when the story is aimed toward one individual, that time in said far away destination. People sputter and crow into the night reading and writing the insides of their cave like heads, to what reader and to whom? We're all just looking to associate, singing to crowds with dark cavernous skulls, echoing some mishead words.

silver snail trails

2010-10-13T10:36:00.000-07:00

Hushed fairytales, filmic moments scrutinized
Itchy eyes and blemished sighs,
sultry swaggering, suggestive meandering
worms, eggshell and bluebell flys
a couple of misconducted rhymes
to forge and cover up the trails of time

I watched you watch

2010-10-05T15:22:00.000-07:00

I watched you and you watched him. That same him who watched them cross the road, who watched for passing cars whilst one watched his own feet. I was watching so intently at him that i almost forgot that i myself was being watched.

The saddest looking dog

2010-10-01T03:40:00.000-07:00

I found you behind a large sheet of glass where customers spit out reviled utterances from tight made-up mouths. And you, you were just looking at the world with eyes so dowdy, bulbous with imaginary tears.

in response to a song

2010-09-23T05:32:00.000-07:00

A moth found in the hardware store B&Q who was incapable of flying but instead used one wing to steer itself around in circles on the shop floor.

Swans - Blind

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OK1kDLj8MM&feature=fvst

Free

2010-09-17T08:08:00.000-07:00

I made a square with blue and pink chalk opposite the doughnut van in West Bromwich. I had twenty items brought from the 99 pence store. A vast range of affordable junk was lavishly displayed on my buckling table. I made myself a free shop and commissioned the people of West Bromwich to take a photo in my square of anything they wanted around them. They could fund it with sincere meaning, forced meaning or absolutely nothing. As predicted most wanted what was on my table and cared little for what they saw around them. In return they gained a free treat from me, absolutely free. "All i ask is that you take a photo in my square, please." I proceeded to go around their feet with chalk where they chose to take their selected picture, poised positioning in my precise pen, varied sizes and distances. My participants left chalky trails like the dance of mad men in the confines of their padded cells, like the exertion of small careless children.

My favourite picture below was taken accidently when the camera fell from one particpants well laquered hands. She chose the fake eyelashes from my free table.

allocated meaning

2010-09-07T11:45:00.000-07:00

Please allocate any (in)appropriate meaning to the below images.

the giraffe

2010-08-29T11:57:00.000-07:00

I wonder when giraffes do finally buckle; do their necks become flaccid? So captivating, watching such length wavering, taking on the fine vibrations of a concerto. Staggering and elapsing top-heavy, bent and reviled. Concaving like the arch of a bow, drunk on it's own rapport. The lowered neck suggests a blow to the head. Sluggishly falling, slow with hesitancy. Suffocating hands from humid skies above push and push until the final act of indecency. A force ineligible jumps upon repeatedly, using this as a diving board of exquisite opportunity.

belief

2010-08-20T10:12:00.000-07:00

Person no 1: Do you believe in God?
Person no 2: The question is does God believe in me?

Men adrift

2010-08-17T05:23:00.000-07:00

“Men adrift, especially in northern latitudes, sometimes imagine they can see things which are not there, such as smoke, sails, ships or land. This is a form of mirage, the same phenomenon that occurs in the desert, and if you experience it, it does not mean that you are out of your mind or even light headed.”

– Office of Naval Intelligence, from Survival on Land and Sea, 1943

musical box

2010-08-09T04:43:00.000-07:00

A deaf man listens to the radio in hope. He stares deep and hard at the musical box.. The speakers, it's ariel, the large dial. He then almost suddenly starts to feel the blood move wrecklessly in and about his body.

let them eat cake

2010-07-29T02:16:00.000-07:00

Creased sycophants anoint the corners of rooms; shifty eyes suggest an otherworldly presence, the unsettling sound of reverence at the banquet of spiritual emptiness. Oh, despairing despondency, you have painted the world as a passive and indifferent. It’s difficult for me to not be bitter at their penetrating stares, these expectant hounds that howl deep into the night complaining of ravishing hunger pains. What more? With fluttered lashes and convincing tongue work: "Qu'ils mangent de la brioche"

Stacked chairs in the head of dr mukti

2010-07-28T05:27:00.000-07:00

How complex a feeling.. this brooding awareness. Stacking chairs to get up to the top of the fridge where the first aid kit is layered with this indistinct layer of filth, sticky like toffee, greased up like a leathered dog chew, a foamy mist of spittle. The phone keeps ringing whilst I type. I am not going to answer it, the conversation will not surpass and my head oozes with overwhelming scented candles and incense. A heaviness that is unbearably thick and sweet causing desirous speculations for scalpels and some of that warped will-power i've heard about in so many. Children are rattling like the bones of the deprived in the spaces of the street, high-pitched squeals and babyish banter, unbroken voices annihilate passersbys forcing uncertain gummy grins. Such orderly clutter surrounds me. This is where it begins, the sensuous longing for that detrimental determination i've heard about in so many. The phone still continues to exasperate, filling the sickeningly sweet air with it's riotous dial tone, rambling in it's own rapture. Continuing to mock over and over from it's formidable distance.

twnty two

2010-07-22T05:06:00.000-07:00

Writing words and then rubbing them back out to re-write something wholesomely indifferent and inoffensive (such as the act of erasing and reconsidering aforementioned writing) until writing acts only as a pointless reminder of what has been written. It becomes a clueless anecdote to how i felt at 14.31 pm and was presented to a non-exsistent audience for four minutes.

Thrust

2010-07-19T10:49:00.000-07:00

Some examples of thrusting as found in the dictionary:

He felt the great machine thrust forwards with unbelieveable power.
Finding a gap, she thrust through the brambles.
The man thrust at me with his sword.
A church spire thrusts upwards

Serving suggestions

2010-07-18T10:37:00.000-07:00

The fine print, the small disclaimer ordered me to add extra ingredients to the dish. It suggested it to me openly, laid-back and with a effortless swagger so I took great pride in following such an order. Maximizing potential taste.. getting my true money's worth.. making grand something modest. I found this to be a vicious habit. This one time I added olives to a dish as suggested - when I don't even like olives! I felt my need to search and read the fine print on packaging was becoming a problem. It was becoming a ritual that without i felt i would starve. It reminded me of when I was seven, maybe eight when before bed i would put my hands together and unite them in prayer. An accustomed procedure that helped lull me into sleep with a sense of reflective selflessness. This I did every night up until I was about eleven when it was then I eventually realised i would carry on living if i didn't.

a former person

2010-07-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

He had shaved his head poorly and was found in Brighton embellished with cuts and dark bruises. He had had a knock up with the police when he ran away aged seventeen. He was found after a week and was then sectioned. Speaking of the devil and visions, something sinister sounding and ludicrous. He loved the back garden, the exquisite privacy of the hedge and which he maintained daily, lovingly preoccupied with something maintainable. His roughened father a subject who induced on drink would have a frightening physical rage. As the only son with three sisters, he was the youngest and seemingly the most vulnerable. Pressurized by the significance of gender and expectancy. When he had ran away in a deluded state his father took to cutting the hedge he adored and as a result had a heart attack, dying whilst laying in the lost sanctuary, palpitations irregular and forgotten to the stagnant summer air. Thirty years on he was discovered roaming the railway lines late at night, murmuring sweet nothings, hunched as he walked with his patchy balding hair.

various shades of pink

2010-07-07T08:32:00.000-07:00

Skinny dipping

2010-07-03T08:41:00.000-07:00

A wave enveloped the camera as i tried to catch daytime nudity. It was a tremendously hot day; i could feel the skin under my garments iron out into a deserted space owning cactus' and mirages. There was a woman far down the beach with her lover and these were the only other two people to be enjoying such a space. She was topless and owned two large breasts that i saw from a great distance. I thought when going down the steep rocky hill to the beach i was going to fall, on walking back up the cliffy terrain i felt the familiar feeling that everything was crumbling underneath my feet and i could collapse to the beach far below with a thud at any given moment. I didn't fall though so there was no thud, nor the sinister sound of the tide and its waves enveloping me. Instead, there was the steady comforting sound of distance as i watched the waves high up, relieved and semi-dirty.

untitled

2010-06-14T04:47:00.000-07:00

manimal

2010-06-10T12:26:00.000-07:00

People keep morphing into various animals. Rhinoceroses when angry.. monkeys when playful.. little lost doggies howling outside of department stores for their owners when awful sad and lonely. I drew an ostrich lady on a piece of paper with an ikea pencil because i knew that ostrich’s have the biggest eggs in the world. He drew a spider man because he told me he was scared of spiders. Truth be told, my picture looked more like a dinosaur called the Pterodactyls, but said a lot less vaguely so that the definite pronunciation is open ended and as a result interpreted easier. Another lady might draw part kangaroo with human arms and another guy might doodle a serpent body and a smiling face and a kid might draw their mamma or pappa. Having searched for 'ostrich spider' on the Internet I came across this:

"Do you know how most mosques in Turkey are protected from spiders and webs? They protect them with Ostrich eggs. Mosques, including the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, Selimiye Mosque in Edirne and Old Mosque in Adana have ostrich eggs hanging outside them.. Ostrich eggs give off a scent that keeps spiders away, but remains unnoticed by humans. Even more interesting, that method is quite effective, and one egg is good for hundreds of years."

Spiders won't enter our mouths because there are ostrich eggs under our pillows waiting to be hatched. After many warm evenings we start to see the small fractures as the surface start to crack. A little beak will reveal itself and start to (rather shaky at first) sing the spiderman theme tune to us; a silly comforting sound.

looking out to sea

2010-06-07T02:05:00.000-07:00

Discussing stuff on sand where so many little pieces are collected, contemplating part sea - part land, talking some about this and that. Dim and settled ambience suffocates the light that reflects off of the water that then in turn reflects off of our glazed eyes, blinking - somewhat sinking, realising it will all soon to be lost with the onset of the uncertain night.

silent hill

2010-05-26T07:56:00.000-07:00

I didn't see a single person. Such bliss i hissed to the uncertain weather, you make me feel so powerful on such nights that my barely visible figure could be consumed whole by your entirety. No vans did roar, no drunken louts did echo from down below and no tv sets blared that high pitched matter. Just those birds in the sky making the sounds that they do.

the thermals

2010-05-20T08:43:00.000-07:00

It’s strange, I just had an odd and rather vague flashback. Listening to a song, the lyrics wailing “wait for me, wait for me, well I still have feet. Wait for me, wait for me”

I’m aged seven, hurriedly looking for shoes. Shoes seem to unexpectedly hide when I need them the most (when leaving the house) even I know aged seven how ludicrous it would be to leave shoeless and venture down the road. Your feet will end up sore; you’re restricted from going too far. So, I would spend a lot of time searching. On occasions my dad was driving to the outdoor, I would get into the car with no shoes. As a result dirty white socks but a tremendous car ride looking at the amber lights whilst listening to the sketchy radio. Another occasion the weekly shop, anxious to fill my life with the big place where all the food hangs out, attempting to push the trolley at some reasonable speed and poorly directing it around corners so that it ends up crashing into people. I didn’t know where my damn shoes were! Most families have a shoe rack or take their shoes off when entering their house. Our family doesn’t. So the story goes, my dad went off with me running up and down the stairs “wait for me, wait for me” I think he’d had enough because the front drive was clear as early morning. What a horrible feeling I thought. The words echo to this day and I somehow can’t help but almost always say it when I hear my dad about to leave.

The Thermals: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcN_RWQWieE

blossom

2010-05-16T13:58:00.000-07:00

The blossom has come from off of the trees and so there is a blanket of pink that increases in size every time i walk by. I hear the hum of the bees that swarm above angrily trying to collect the falling hue and negotiate with the unsympathetic breeze. Rioting in the invisible waves of air, sobbing at the decrepit inevitability of it all. Two young people laze underneath in the shade, unassuming of the action that heaves above. The girl gets stung by one of the aggressive bees. The insect was out of control and had lost it's own motivations to carry on. The falling blossom was far too much that he himself had to give in to the pressures of death, embedded deep in his victim, hanging helplessly. The girl shouts a profanity, running from the tree with its oceanic petals, her figure just made out like the finest and forgotten of imprints.

to evaporate

2010-05-11T04:16:00.000-07:00

Don’t think of dark colours. Think of the colour of air, the lightness of light. Feel your blood evaporate.

smokers

2010-05-11T04:12:00.000-07:00

A non-descript girl as unrecognisable and stable as dream showed me this magic lantern, she threw it to the floor in a planned accident and smoke began to rise. Behind sheets of selfish smoke lay mirages of lost lovers. It was an abundant downpour of enkindled sorrow. Not my lovers but everyone’s of everyone’s. Presenting themselves to me in brief glimpses. The whole world was appearing in front of me at an exaggerated pace. All these lost people all to have shared intimacy and pleasure, pain and birth, creation and inhibition, desperation and need, trust and deceit, lust, love and loss.

A selection of titles from contemporary art exhibitions

2010-05-08T08:49:00.000-07:00

On the threshold of a dream, quiet politics, the fear society, on the rocks, please explain it to me, i've just become a radical, what i don't know about space, life on mars, change, twelve sunsets, twenty nine dawns, all in once, courbet your enthusiasm, room acoustics revisited, boundaries are boneless, scrambled and poached, inconvenient truths, fighting spirit, after nature, the enigma machine, breakdowns, mixed signals, the world is yours, the action of nowhere, snow white, invisible adversaries, like colour in pictures, the kaleidoscopic eye, the long goodbye, fairy tale, in flower, wrecked, transmission interrupted, liquid modernity, footnotes on the state of exception, lets stay together, under hypnosis, that persons workbook, mind physics, collision of memory, summer in the city, park portraits, loop dreams, etudes, now and then, variable/invariable, vice versa, dispersion, politically correct, dynamic maximum tension, younger than jesus, revolution paper, nuke trannie, a rose has no teeth, ten years of robotic mayhem, womanizer, team, the associates, figurative language, field work, to and from the printed page, standard, used paint, red yellow and blue, search within results, if it don't work, new work, untitled, pictures of paper, the title of this show is a list that includes the dates in which each exhibited works were first made the dates in which some were remade by the artists and the dates in which they were last shown

Above: appropriated nonsense that encompasses an interconnected rhythm using the elitist titles of contemporary exhibitions. Supports my claim of everything owning some sort of relevant link to the next thing and that concept can become void under the scrutiny of expectancy.

Notes on Madness

2010-05-08T06:33:00.000-07:00

In the confines of open space
A sinister sound creeps from a far away door
Where insides combust, excrete in the open air
Tangerine faces, inched claws and those lacquered lips
Draw exquisite pictures into my skin
Newborn babies and snow

Delicate porn stars mimic the sound of tweeting birds,
Embellished with flight, regurgitating

Entwined twirling fabrics underwater
Slow motion, considered
We all sit and watch,
As it epically traces the curves of the
Unassuming water

Tried to speak
Temporal and lippy
Fast paced telepathy
Spectral palettes of oral sincerity
An unfortunate amount of that burdened delicacy

Super glued vases, bowls of broken fruit
Arteries that pump blood away,
Sweet little tweeting birds

A little story told by me

2010-05-04T11:12:00.000-07:00

We made up a story about a lost hand. We were supposed to go looking for it hidden wherever it may be someplace/somewhere. Not under ones sleeve but lost on this deserted beach, maybe out to sea. Such sand is slowly being drawn away from itself like some sort of sad sand timer. It will be a beach no more. This long deserted place with dunes and wild grass and californian styled signs will be forgotten. We want to join forces and shout SOS. Save our sands. Save it! Walking some and acknowledging such sand in broken shoes.

Taking photographs on a 35mm camera with my lonely one hand the sand starts to look more like frosty snow. Cold antarctic mountainous ranges and white over exposed frames almost make the image completely empty and void of anything ever existing in the first place. The images were evaporating and soon to be lost like the hands, so i decided to break the camera in a quiet rage.

But those hands had run away. We put up posters with a reward of rum and raisin ice cream and beer. Word got about until finally they were found. It was discovered they had travelled some way holding plaque cards whilst protesting "sos' in some rather distressed fashion: "save our sands, save our hands"

A song written about having a head on a lead

2010-04-29T06:41:00.000-07:00

To avoid work and pains of an unworking printer write pointless shit songs on the ukelele. Song is written about having a detachable head when hungover or in pain.

i'm dragging my head on the ground,
head like a hole, throat makes no sound
i'm dragging my head behind,
everywhere that i go, i think people kinda know

im dragging it down with this nonsense sound,
i can hear the nextdoor neighbours frown
and oh and i just keep singing
sitting in my room

dragging my head down
i think people must know
dragging my head down
helens blinking too slow

dragging my head to the sound
wondering when it will be found
you can do what you want
when sitting in my room

dragging my head down
dragging my head down down
dum di down di down dum di down, etc

knock door run on deaths door

2010-04-25T13:57:00.000-07:00

If you keep you head above the water it only means you’re breathing. Whereas the struggle - the drowning part for instance, the worst fuck off part is kicking in slowly. Your feet dangle and kick a shocking rhythm, the aggressive type made for hardcore encores. You can feel yourself slipping on the edge of life’s dainty tie rope, longing it to be done with it and get around your squealing throat as you use stretched limbs to hold on to the faraway birds in the sky. The one used many times to get you in and out of situations, the one that sang to the unsuspecting, that got sick on altered floors. The one you wished you would have used less in situations, sometimes more. You’re thinking I wish it wasn’t going to end this way.. You know in the middle of a big ocean, real fucking big with all the continents happily getting on with their shifting lives. No one had the faintest idea, not even myself for once. I could laugh, but I’m trying to keep afloat. Don’t go for night swims, don’t trust strangers and don’t expect God to save you when you didn’t even try to save yourself. One thing though I couldn’t help but think, with my legs wobbly and my toes spread wide feeling the water rush into my mouth was that it didn't half look pretty out there.

Portrayed in a portrait

2010-04-25T06:58:00.000-07:00

I have been told the soul comes out from inside the carcasses of the living dead //

when the shutter is released -.. it'''s an insatiable instance - - - a momentous occasion

a split second of a second (..) where all beings exhale smoke from out of their nostrils

|| every single cell combusts and rises ^ lit by the brightness above |^|
for that sharp uncensored moment all is lost =

I have no comprehension of what a soul looks like;") nor a true portrait -("

and that is what is to me so,.,., wondrous (!)

lost handwriting

2010-04-22T11:55:00.000-07:00

I found this little bit of writing i wrote from when i was fifteen entitled 'The Autumn blues' (as with anything from the past it makes me cringe but also makes me smile, such young melancholy) It is a fond reminder of a few moments when looking out of a window at the synchronised blades of grass, waiting for some sort of message to be spelt out by the clouds. Watching bemused at the washing on the line, flimsy and pathetic but still powerful. Conscious of being alone and content, more than happy to stare into this absent space gazing into the eyes of summer’s slow death. There was an intense type of evening brewing and I could actually feel it. I remember being cross legged on an office chair, listening to the music of Bright Eyes, my head turned to the right. So i shall continue to write because of such an instance(s), even when it makes no sense to the reader. You have to be selfish sometimes. Even when the paper is lost to the elements, the notion of writing has something more than just physicality and poor handwriting. I like to consider it more than just a document.

The Autumn blues
Sounds like petit lavender, if you could hear the voice
Tingling in the wind:

"Why do you blow me about?
All this wind soon enough will mount
And my lilac mauve will create an ocean so vast
That it will only last for a second, and be blown into the past."

Weeping and seeping and leaping with the beeps of the telephone
Cowering, crying and respiring on answer phone; it's all so despicably monotone.

Can you here me honey?
Not so funny when it's not too sunny
The bee's die – then the leaves are heaved high
Just to be thrown back to concrete with an outburst of a sigh.
Trampled along with the sour saturnine cement
This is where one thinks nature is not meant.

Fade to brown, orange, then red.
"Repetition is the name of the game", she knavishly said.

Baz Luhrmann - everybody's free (to wear sunscreen)

2010-04-19T11:05:00.000-07:00

Having spent the day indoors attending to bland repetitive work the distant weather outside made me reflect on a lovely little tune that still manages to make me feel positively sentimental and summery. I think i shall choose to play it in the mornings to put everything into nice quaint place then dance into the streets with the invisibly upbeat whilst speaking nonsense to those lovely enough to listen.

Baz Luhrmann. Everybody's free: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTJ7AzBIJoI

Flour power

2010-04-16T13:27:00.000-07:00

Floured air suggests cooking, right?

Messy floors and whitened hair,

some number of untitled cares

what better way than kids making a mess

without the thought of tomorrows stress

la la la la la laaa la la la la laaaaaa la la la.

On such a note, i have only just today cleaned the house. A flooded garden outside.. The gathered dead inside. Vacuum and dust and arrange and do something else and then tweak this and that, (and and and and and and and and) It hasn't made me feel any cleaner, rather slightly more an elderly accuracy, one of those sufficient people who believe godliness is cleanliness, who give perfect looking cupcakes to the community whilst throwing all the others in bin, eating lavish meals on a well prepared table for one. A formalised envelope with strict sharp points with the inside feeling repetitive and anda ananananad anananad anna andy an and dissapointed. I suggest that you all go out and fling paint effortlessly everywhere. Have a food fight. Sink into the deep mud that others leap over. Feel riddled with filth, then wash yourself and watch the plughole whiz around and around, down to where the spiders lurk and the teenage mutant tortoises. Get messy and saviour what it is to feel young.

platform

2010-04-11T05:52:00.000-07:00

1.    This girl has trainers that are two sizes too small for her and is regretting the impulse buy made a week ago. She is pretending to text another person. She feels awkward being in a social space and waiting, so she re-reads messages from over a year ago.
2.    This guy wears baggy jogging bottoms with a self-righteous vigour whilst talking to number 5 with utmost contradictory enthusiasm vs. a forced laid-back attitude. He goes into graphic detail about last nights lay.
3.    This machine dispenses cans of coca cola for 30 pence more than the cornershop.
4.    This man has electric grey hair and is about to say goodbye to his wife who is going further up North to see friends.
5.    This guy laughs a kind of bass-riddled chuckle and shows a lot of teeth.
6.    This machine competes with the cola machine
7.    In her green carrier bag is a cheap nurses outfit and a number of kinky toys having just stayed over at a clients’.
8.    This gigantic cement plant pot takes in both of the platforms every day and watches me as i take the photograph.

confused.com

2010-04-11T05:25:00.000-07:00

Sunshine

2010-04-08T02:40:00.000-07:00

What a grand day, the sun is out. At the end of its life, the Sun will start to fuse helium into heavier elements and begin to swell up, ultimately growing so large that it will swallow the Earth. We'll be walking on sunshine.

Background music to end scene. The eventual frame over exposed and burnt out, excessive light seaping into peoples homes as they watch television sets telling them it's the end: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGGWrJp4JHA

Coarse throats

2010-04-07T15:11:00.000-07:00

I couldn’t control myself. In that moment all I could do was defend what I was about. Anger took over my body and made me rise to my feet. My throat feels coarse now. She said “You are not happy, look at you! You’re being used, you're a number. They’ll eat you up and spit you out. No one fucking cares about you! You’ve been hurt so many times and I know you have, i see it all of the time. Why can’t you stay still, what the hell are you looking for? With the way you are.." she snarls at me loudly, spitting out these words with possesed conviction almost like she believes them. I feel that we’re in court and my case has come to an end. I have no voice it seems to drown out hers, a helpless wretched mess. I guess she’d like me to cry or something, because that way I remember her telling me it showed that I had feelings. I don’t cry. I scream at her that she’s the one who’s unhappy and to never presume anything about me, ever, again. She shouldn’t point that long pointy finger at me. Trying to unveil something she will never find. We shouted over each other for some time until someone made us stop.

To a girl on Jeremy kyle

2010-04-05T10:09:00.000-07:00

Shine crocodile, cry like a heavy sigh and hide down the violently lit corridors tonight. I watch you nearing your gold ear to the sound of Jerry and her. She is disciplined to the art of reproduction and is younger, a right fresh bearer. The quietened rutting that expires heaves and raises high with the sound of happy hardcore. Dazzling buttons become unbuttoned and zips don't rise back up, cloth becomes moth bitten and water leaks into shoes that haven't even danced in the rain. She leaves a trail of coppers and shakes glass out of her hair, she mothers babies and aint got one single care. Mean little seed with bruised eye shadow. Dies young in the dead of night, her mouth ajar bearing those feline teeth. Such a good jaw, a collectors piece

Saturday night television

2010-04-03T13:49:00.000-07:00

One thing i don't miss is Saturday night television. It fills me with a weary repulsion, a souring comfort and disappointment. I almost expect it to dazzle or be just as it was when I was eight.

"Oh look at me, i'm suffocating my life with tedious brain rot" (i am usually fond of brain rot, but this kind is tiring) I should run into the night and caress the plants, look at the dead tree trunks in the graveyard and if i could whistle properly.. do so down the darkest of alleys. Waiting for the howl of drunkards to fill the cold air amongst the dirt and grasshoppers .. The grasshoppers leaped into the imagining because i was thinking of a different place, one a lot less busy. When you're alone you hear everything. Mamma would tell me when i would have a bad dream, just close those eyes of yours and see things you want to see. She mentioned the sea a lot which was pretty calming and nice. Just as is the sound of ones mother on a distressed night.

dark rooms, onion eyes and sunshine

2010-04-01T13:24:00.000-07:00

Have you ever looked to the brightest of skies with tears in your eyes? A blurry manifestation of the incomprehensible. People raise their arms thinking that they have found nirvana, singing to the almighty with their wide throats and their bellowing chests. My mother had a breakdown and remembers vividly, with tears in her eyes whilst looking to the sky that God had come to save her.

white ink on white paper

2010-03-29T10:21:00.000-07:00

White ink on white paper is considered a pointless act by some. In my defence, i delcare that it is just as pointless as writing ones name in the sand

turn the clocks back

2010-03-28T09:49:00.000-07:00

The clocks have been turned back today offering an extra hour of light. It is time to open cemented curtains and let the long day in. Run in fields and lay in meadows, speak nonsense to the attentive sparrows. Embrace one and only one, the tortured one, who offers you worth with an uncensored mind, definite hands and tall thoughts - my complicated contradiction. Such a sadness in the passage of time, one can't help but find it spectacular, unsettlingly beautiful - as with everything i fear it will all just be sorrowfully forgotten and moved on, as time tends to.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_6M4zDTIW4

Reading between lines

2010-03-28T06:27:00.000-07:00

The connotations of words can be interpreted differently,
The word blue for instance can be a colour,
Considered calm but also cold
Cool, collected, fresh, masculine
However it can be thought upon as feminine, like bluebells
The ocean and the sky are blue which inescapably encompass all
A person refers to oneself as blue when feeling down
Whilst perhaps listening to the musical blues
People chant “up the blues” for the football team Birmingham City
Veins are blue underneath skin as are bruises on top of the skin
Blue rhymes with few, queue and you
When rearranged the words blue can create lube
Or buel and elbu which aren’t even words
Water is seen as blue although it is clear and can become murky
As with any other singular word with vague uncertainty

black and white tv sets

2010-03-19T11:32:00.000-07:00

When people can't get to sleep it is said that the tv acts as company. Late night viewing of multiple channels with no purposeful audience.. Well, apart from some particular niche who sleeplessly watch others sleep, like live big brother footage on a channel with too many digits. It was unusual to see people i knew on our home television moving and staring back at me, famous and glowing (all the while sliding in and out of frame because i asked them to) I didn't explain why at the time, but in such later instance i had to stop and take pictures to prove that they were there looking right back at me on this screened box, located in my front room.