Don't just leave it...

Is it a characteristic of a creative soul to find inspiration in the new, but to wane once the novelty has worn off? It is with me, and thus the Don’t Just Do It project has lain untouched for months… so I have decided to try and revamp a little, starting with some header artwork- not quite a brand, but a handy visual to trot out where necessary…

Just need to find a wordpress skin to accomodate it now…

Project development..

Working on the 6ism project for the Gallery… This means lots of writing and producing content, without much time… Have thoroughly enjoyed playing around with this for the spalsh page, and a flag aswell…



The Republic...

Have got stuck right into some beautiful cuts of the Bodoni font, I think they’re by those geniuses of typographism, P22 but I may be wrong…

Here’s a clip of the splash…




The site is becoming a collaboration of writers and thinkers more than artists, but that is kind of the point… keep an eye on the wiki for updates :)

Visual Accompaniment - Mrs Smith I presume

At last, I finally get around to uploading some very poor quality pics of the latest piece... It's called Diedre Smith, and its oil on canvas. A nod to Lucien, a drop of the velvets and a dollop of carry-on - well that's it feels like to me anyway...




This piece is currently exhibited as part of the Fakir exhibition at island6...

notes: new post

...behind my house- reconstruction, renovation, the EXPO steams on... man in cabin, fag in mouth, swinging the hyraulic arm and scoop with dexterity of a pianist. Rubble, dirt, that awful clay that suppoerts this entire town... a dump truck- battered, tired, blue and cream- its driver also sucking down a doubl happiness or two. Driver flicks ash. A woman returns home through the alleyway onto this scene, hoping to advance to her home in the tower block whose forecourt so desperately needed renovating. Her path guided by a lone sheet of 8'x4' to guide her into the hydraulics manic swinging path... her wits and apparently good luck alone will guide her to the other sheet of 8x4 that awaits anyone lucky enough to survive the gauntlet of pot holes, trenches, hardcore and rubble that was her environs this morning. She ducks, stumbles, but unflinching reaches her target, and guided safely to terra firma of the fire doors at the towerblock entrance. Didnt even blink.

Progress

New show opened last night. Exhibiting two major pieces, neither of which I have pics of yet. Was supposed to be DJing but the sound cards kept crashing my mac or not working at all, so had to get the electrician to wire up by hand. Ended up playing Upsetters albums from iTunes...

I also just finished my first entry for a new blog being put together for the British Pavillion at the Shanghai Expo. Thanks to an insider who is running the marketing for the UK presence at the expo, I am the a shining example of how an English artist copes in an Asian artistic environment. Its quite a big deal, and should generate some exposure... wonder if they'll link to this blog...now what did I write about foreign policy back in 2007..?

Christmas

For the first time in months, all of the Herseys are taking time out to relax. Indulging in foods, drinks, games and pointless activities associated with this festival called christmas, associated for a variety of reasons from commerce to religion via custom and habit. Its the pointlessness that has appealed most, as for the first time in ages we are indulging in that which is of little benefit either physically or mentally, but which feels quite good.

Interesting however, how quickly the dark recesses of one's mind throw up nagging doubts and guilty panic's about the workload awaiting us on our return, the tasks left undone, the jobs and preparations as yet untouched... its only boxing day and they are kicking in already. Even Matilda was lamenting the end of our fun even before the sun had set on Christmas Day...

Fortunately, the panic is tinged with a sliver of anticipation and eagerness to get creating, or achieving, once again.

New work

New show is titled 'Fakir', and aims to showcase the talents and phenomena of illusionists, magicians and fraudsters. I am returning to familiar ground with some back-to-brushes simplicity. Smaller too. This is Whistlin Rufus.

gasping

Like a fish flipping and gaping, having slipped maniacally from an infant grasp on to the grainy earth of a river bank, I feel time slipping through my fingers as air slips through the desperate creatures gills. No matter how hard it sucks at the flimsy air it cannot glean oxygen to breathe. No matter how hard I try I cannot find time to fulfil myself. Weeks slip through my gaping mouth and nothing comes of it. We speed towards our final weeks in China and beyong them I can see nothing. I can't see how I could do this anywhere else, yet what I do achieve here is so infinitesimal. I'm still thrashing around. I am not dead yet.

leaves

unusually there are leaves on the street. in any ordinary shanghai day, there would be no leaves... there would be an army of street cleaners to rectify any such inflagrancy of party cleanliness guidelines... laughable, truman showesque- but reality in China- things don't look out of place here... because the party says they shouldn't look out of place. So to my surprise I see autumnal leaves. It was, after all, 10pm... and friday. I expect the weekend shift will clock on at 5 tomorrow and rectify this injustice- not before the weekday crew are fired

juices flowing

well not to sound vulgar, but things seem to be clicking into place at the easel. Will I have show fodder by the 21st? fuck that, who cares Im enjoying myself for the first time in 2 months

Placebo

The new show is entitled Placebo. It forms the second in a series of shows that begun over the summer with Synaesthesia.

I have been busy scouring my image collection for suitable reference material, and aim to continue my low-fi aesthetic approach to image making with raw canvas and monotone palette. Ill be including (hopefully) some new watercolours too.

It refreshes the soul to create, to think- as well as stressing the hell out of my frazzled self- in such a way as to remind one what one's purpose is. It also stimulates the poignancy of being located on the other side of the world (to what?) and resident in a more or less alien cultural pool, and encourages me- rather than to focus on this alienation- to express a feeling of suitablility, adaptation to any environment, not just an alien one. Its a bit like reminding yourself that by being in circus of cultural dispraxia, you are actually at home anywhere, and as such you settle down with pipe and slippers in the gutter and straw in the autumnal sun and think just how lucky you are to be so damn happy.

Dianaism

Efforts from behind the plastic lens...

Conception

Briefed by Jimmy now a succesful webdesigner languishing at Ogilvy, I have come up with this interpretation of 'Conception'- inspired by statues at a temple in PingYao- one is a guardian of hell, the other a fertility statue (man holding twin babies in a bucket)

Simpsonia

GOD BLESS jon simpson

the man with whom i first worked professionally, who gave me faith, belief in myself, and who to this day maintains the values of a pure creative untainted by cheap ego- a rare quality indeed...

john

funnysong lyrics of life

right now feels like shes saying back the fuck off, just until forever
never meant to say it was true
But then I said it to you
AH ah ah