An idea, the start of a plan, a way to help.
Had a thought.
I seem to be spending more and more time talking to the homeless people in my area (Hackney). Christmas is coming and you know what, being homeless fucking sucks and being homeless at Christmas really fucking sucks. I was thinking it’d be really cool to organise something like an art sale that either went towards a homeless charity or more directly did a thing for the homeless, such as a big Christmas dinner somewhere . I don’t know how I would articulate such a thing but I think about homeless people a lot and I always feel like there are only maybe 3 things that have to go wrong with any of us to end up on the streets. And it’s horrible to be ignored no matter what problems you have.
That is the thought. Let’s do something with it?
I’ve forgotten how to use it, and I need to get some better photos, but I just started a new etsy shop where I’m selling some originals, prints, and that skeleton cat sculpture! All for low, low prices. Take a look, there might be more soon!
I finished skeleton cat sculpture. He’s so scary.
I’m making a model of my giant skeleton cat for the show! It’s not exactly giant, but is still over two cans of coke tall.
Like cats? Like amazing illustrators? Like my work sometimes?
I’m lucky enough to be included in the exciting show, arranged by my for real favourite illustrator Laura Hughes. It’s gonna be great, and you should come!
"He didn’t always feel it, rarely thought about it in fact, but he had a tree growing out of his skull. On occasion it itched, and no hat could cover it, but he lived his life and loved as he could. His wife pruned him occasionally with a frown. You must see someone about this, I woke this morning to birdsong from the pillow next to me. They begat Cerese, a daughter of elegance, save for the sprout that topped her head. She complained of teasing, the style of the time did not look kindly upon a woman wearing her hair high. Never proud of her paternal trait, Cerese pleaded to her mother. And one night, with rigorous sawing with a kitchen knife, axes were forbidden, the deed was done. He never really recovered from that. His skin grew wan and his leaves turned brown. When he died, they buried him standing up."
I wrote a story whilst tired and aching. I don’t know what it means. I made a new blog called fumble words - fumblewords.tumblr.com where I will probably almost definitely post more of these no really I won’t stop after three I never do that.
I’ve been drawing METAL BANDS! (and a grunge one). Work is scant on the illustration front, so I’m having fun doing some stupid, more grown up stuff.