Coming Out of Lockdown

Oil on canvas 15/6/2020 – 60cm x 50cm / 24″ x 20″

Croeso – Welcome

What’s it all about then?

No one’s got a clue really, but we try to do our best.

This website exists to display a bit of one person’s attempts to do their best. When I say ‘best’ I’m not sure if that’s true in the sense that everything here is perfectly crafted, because it’s not. Some of it is roughly hewn or not hewn at all, simply pointed at, but then again, maybe that’s the best I can do.

I dunno.

I reckon that less than 1 in 100 visitors to this website are actual human beings so if you’re one of them and not a bot, and have managed to read this far down the page, I hope you can find something of interest here.

Just scroll and click and search. Turn over some metaphorical stones – there’s quite a lot to uncover even if I do say so myself.

blah blah – you know the score – here’s a poem from 1999 about knowing the score

ninetyfivefive
 
 you know the score
 in a movie 
 or a tv show
 the flaws
 small flaws
 idiosyncratic flaws
 twelve flaws
 or just one 
 we’re allowed to be flawed 
 it’s ok as long as in the end 
 we’re fucking good at our job
 in my real life i’m an artex ceiling of cracks and fissures
 with some small redemption
 
 it’s kind of arse-backwards ain’t it?

More Reflections in a Bin

Here’s a short video clip set on/in a bin

Taken the same time as the photo in a previous post, i.e. March 16th, at the beginning of lockdown

Corona Response Team (Painting)

Started this at the beginning of lockdown – been fiddling with it since – finally finished it yesterday (April 24 2020)

Abstract acrylic painting - orange circle on blue and green
Corona Response Team – Acrylic on Card/Paper 50x42mm, 20″x17″ approx Inc Frame

Painted on a charity shop frame and mount

Branches and Sun reflected in a bin full of rainwater

cropped

Original Photo

New Face – Pedro

New-Face Pedro, Acrylic on canvas sheet 2019, 40cm x 30cm exc frame

The Creature – a short video about an upcoming play

This is a short video I made to help promote the upcoming play from Company of Sirens at Chapter Arts in Cardiff

Candigirl – acrylic portrait

here’s Candigirl

Candigirl – A3 size, acrylics on paper

and here’s Candigirl in a frame

Candigirl in frame

It’s a collage

It’s a collage, that’s what it is, it’s a coll-fucking-age

writer or painter?

if I don’t paint I can’t write, in fact if I don’t paint I lose the plot . . . it takes a while, months, sometimes longer, but here it comes again . . . sorry, got to go and paint . . . if anything decent comes out of my forthcoming painting session I’ll post it here, you’ll be the first to know . . . back in a bit . . .  . . . it’s later . . . well, that didn’t go very far, there was a fair bit of tidying up and sorting out paints and brushes and canvases, not to mention collecting all the other stuff that had accumulated in the shed and putting it out of the way . . . then it was too hot to paint in there so very little got done (painting-wise) . . . then there was cooking and generally mooching about and just being unfocused . . . and now . . . here’s the result . . .

so, writer or painter then?

neither I suppose, not today anyway

Random Words of Today Podcast

Random Words of Today

*****

and while we’re at it, this is another little random podcast from the other day

it’s called RE: Tories Left Right etc.

*****

and yet another recoded just an hour or so ago

this one is Art Light Love Universe

*****

Art Exhibition – Llanover Hall and Behind the Tele

Here’s a photo of my painting Autumn Show, on the wall in Llanover Hall, Cardiff for their 50th anniversary exhibition .

Available to purchase at the special price of £450 until July 26th 2019

Autumn Show – 2016 – acrylic on canvas – 1200mm x 1000mm

and here’s a very different painting on the same size canvas – who is it hiding behind the tele?

Namaste – 2018 – acrylic on canvas – 1200mm x 1000mm

Morning

Just found this in an old word doc from February 2000

Morning

Continue reading “Morning”

Me and some of my mates

Me and some of my mates


	

Okey Dokey

Don’t ask . . . . . .

Here’s some sort-of abstract works instead

Flashes Stars Hearts – Paint Art

bit of doodling mindlessly using Microsoft Paint

At the end of the day

detangle me

The Imaginary Man

Excerpt from Work in Progress Novel “The Flying Boy”

Also a version in the Novel “To Me”

You used to think you were especially gifted at school – this is because in your immediate circle of family and friends you were tagged as the brightest and cleverest. It was never true, but you suppose you were usually just about quick enough to figure out almost anything, and if you couldn’t figure it out, you’d put it in a box marked ‘later’ – it wasn’t that you couldn’t solve it, it just wasn’t the right time.

You can’t remember how many of those ‘later’ issues you revisited and solved, or how many sunk to the dark bottom of that box and are still there now, silting up the foundations of your being. You’ve never found life easy but it thrills you to be alive. It scares you silly too.

And so, you see, you have as much right as any one of those greats to tell your story in your way. You won’t promise an easy read, and you may not like many of the characters that feature, or many of the characteristics displayed by our man in the middle – the main protagonist – you!

The only thing you will guarantee is that this will only be about the truth. It will be completely true. You guarantee that.

It was a dampish, coldish, Saturday in October when it all began – this looking back, and the looking forward, and the imagination. The imaginary man.

Yes, The Imaginary Man – that’s you, that’s who you are. You are the original imaginary man. If someone said to you: who are you? You’d probably shrug. But if instead they asked you a series of questions such as: ‘how old are you?’, ‘what is your name?’, ‘are you male or female?’, that sort of thing, then you would already know the answers, and from those answers it could easily be deduced that you identify as a man, born in the middle of the twentieth century, now living in the twenty-first and so on.

So, you do have an identity – a strong identity, the only identity you have ever known and probably will ever know. So, get this – you are fucking important. You are as important as the fucking Queen. You are as important as the Pope, the fucking Pope. You’re not sure about people like the Buddha, or Jesus, or Muhammad, or Guru Nanak, or Krishna, or any other ancient or current inspiration for a religion – or some spiritual leader with a direct connection to the idea of God – like a conduit to the eternal love. No, You’re not sure about them; they may not even be or have been human beings in the same way as the rest of us, they may be or have been like angels or messiahs or prophets or something that operate on a different plane than human existence.

But you’re just as fucking important as any of your other ponces or plebs, and of course to yourself, you are the most important. Though you don’t need anyone else to put you down; you’re an expert at putting your-fucking-self down.

The only reason you’re writing this by the way is to draw a line between that old sucker you and to kickstart the new wiser tougher you.

So where do you begin?

Interjection

(Interjection on Wednesday November 18th 2015 – as I’m typing this into a Word document ready to be copied into the book that this will end up in. The interjection is this – is it possible that an intelligent person could practise a skill – say, like writing, for decades, and write countless words until they have accumulated at least 6 medium cardboard boxes full of their scribbles plus gigabytes of hard drive space, is it possible for that person to be a crap writer – I mean if you practised all the those years and still didn’t get even the tiniest bit of appreciation and recognition for your work – is that the time to just say “Fuck it – I’m a crap writer – give it up, find something you’re good at.” And what if I won’t accept that, because I have to write – I have to write – there is no choice for me – appreciated or not – so then my voice, however much it doesn’t fit with what is regarded as a good voice is, as good as, as important as, as interesting as, as honest as any other voice of any other human being, whether expressed in words or visual art or, god forbid – dance. End of interjection.)

NOTE: From the novel “To Me”

4 New Paintings for 2019

Completed on the cusp of 2018 and 2019. (‘Scuse the faint shadows on the photos)

All are 16″ x 12″ Acrylic on canvas – all are framed – prices below

Mozaic-A
Mozaic-B
Earth and Sky
Oranges and Lemons

All 4 paintings are framed and ready for sale

Mozaic A & B = £160
Oranges & Lemons = £150
Earth & Sky = £120

* Prices are for collection by arrangement
If you want them delivered then please ask

Click here to use my CONTACT FORM either way

Marking an event

Last Saturday, December 8th 2018, along with Dafydd Wyn Roberts, I held an event at the Apothecary in Cardiff. They have a lovely little caff at the back of their shop.

Dafydd played 4 songs accompanying himself on an acoustic guitar, and I read three excerpts from my novels.

It went like this – Song-Reading-Song-Reading-Song-Reading-Song or something like that.

Before, during, and at the end of the song-reading cycle we chatted to each other and to the audience.

It was a great night and everyone who was there loved it. Dafydd’s act was excellent, good songs well sung and played. We may do it again – watch this space (well not this space, but some other space)

here’s the poster for the event again