BourneI was recently asked the question, ‘If you had a time machine, where in the historical past would you go?’ It’s a fair enquiry, and one many would ponder at great length. For me, there is a clear time and place. Late fifteenth century Florence. Florence is a rich place, a creative shot in the […]
Veronica Sage, light of foot, stealthy raider of late summer orchards. Quietly, she would hitch up her dress and slip off her deck shoes, and disappear into foliage, branches swaying, leaves rustling, and twigs snapping. Then, her head would appear, pupils closing to pin pricks in the setting sun, and there Veronica Sage would descend […]
Last August marked six years since Charlotte, my dear friend and muse, took her own life. At just after half past eleven, on the anniversary, I knocked back one shot of tequila and lime, her tipple of choice, and sparked a light to her memory once more into the darkest corners of my heart. It […]
On Sunday l shall be taking my usual trip to the resting place of my dear friend Charlotte. It’s been six short years since she took the decision to place a full stop after her life, and a damn long trudge for those she left behind. Many of you reading this will know that, since […]
I have such clarity of memory, as a teenager playing my vinyl records on an old Grundig mono record player, my punk and new wave sounds blasting from a speaker grimly hanging on for dear life, and my father asking me what that ‘loony music’ was I was listening to. Loony music. There was a […]
An art teacher once told me my art work lacked emotion.I was only young.And, on top of that, the teacher added, my creative endeavours were unlikely to amount to much.I’ll never forget those words. Once upon a time, they disarmed me, then they came to motivate me.In recent years I rarely think of them.Last week, […]
A common question I am asked is about technique. A few times in the past I have posted break downs on how pieces were drawn, explaining what materials were used. This drawing, from 2017, began life as a piece of black Strathmore paper. I knew there would be a degree of negative space in the […]
When one tells one they cannot, they won’t. When one tells one they can, they could. When one does, whether they think they can or cannot They no longer remain. Static. They move forward. And, one must move forward in order to live. Otherwise, what is the point.
Bourne 