Update

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To the post office!


The first batch of zines has gone out in the post.

I’ve also created a bundle containing the physical booklet and digital edition pdf. You can purchase the bundle for $17.

Today's drawing.

Meanwhile, my daily 15-minute drawings continue. I’m tentatively thinking about how they may work as paintings or be a starting point for some new work. We’ll have to wait and see…

Coming Soon…

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Hard copies of Saturday Delivery sitting pretty.


As mentioned a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been putting together some writing and drawings into a booklet/zine. The booklet is called Saturday Delivery and is almost ready to purchase. It’s 20 pages, black and white on 100gsm paper, A5 size. Is it a zine? Is it a booklet? I don’t know. It contains nine stories and drawings. There is a limited first edition of 30 printed copies and an unlimited digital version.

Keep an eye on your Inbox (sign up to my mailing list) and Instagram for details…

And here’s a taster…

A spread from the zine Saturday Delivery.

Eating Beans, Chips, and a Sausage Roll

I’m sitting at a small table in a steamy, greasy spoon. Condensation drips down the window, on my plate, beans, chips and a sausage roll. Iain sits in front of me. I’m here for lunch. I’m here to give my body something different to digest. I am noticing steamed-up windows – the drips allow a blurry glimpse of the world beyond the window. I am hungry. It’s cold outside, and a hearty lunch is needed. Art school is, hmmm, going ok but also a pain. I am struggling with the work. I’m used to being top dog and have forgotten how to really apply myself. Perhaps I’m not interested enough. I can feel the food and fat giving my body a workout. It’s a hearty meal. Iain really likes Jo. She’s going to move in with him out at the coast. Or will do when he finds a place. I’m not ready for such a relationship. I’m 22, and it’s too much for me. I’m struggling enough with art school. Add a relationship - it could work. I’m pleased Iain likes my work. I don’t know what I’m doing, and this is where I need to be—at art school. I’m avoiding, or at least taking a break from, the studio. I am finishing my lunch. I drink a coke. Coke goes with this stodgy meal; it helps lighten it. I’m leaving the cafe with Iain and heading back to the studio. I have a large charcoal drawing to finish. I’m working on drawings to do with the word “nothing”.

Ideas and action – a drawing experiment

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Where ideas come into focus


That hour of drawing is, for now, 15 minutes of drawing, photographing the result with my phone, editing the image, writing some blurb, and posting to Instagram.

Below are the results of four days of drawing. I’ll assess and decide what to do next after three more days. So far, I’m enjoying the making, enjoying the responses I’ve had from people and am intrigued by my drawings.

Brushpen drawings.

Brushpen drawings.

Brushpen drawings.

Brushpen drawings.

I'm Batman

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Following a prompt from Lynda Barry’s Instagram, “this weeks daily diary assignment: draw yourself as batman in four scenes from your day”.

I’m Batman!

War poster

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I am in my bedroom. It’s Sunday night, and I’m trying to fix my poster on the wall. I have a chair and plenty of Blu-Tack. Dabs of Blu-Tack. A big disc on each corner and then more along the top edge. The poster is vast and covers the whole wall. It’s awkward, and I’m struggling to hold it and fix it to the wall. I’m determined to do it on my own. Like the boy in the poster, I’m stubbornly independent and innocent. Yet I am doing this on my own. Mum asks if I need help; I say I don’t, I’m ok, I can do it on my own. “Well, just be careful”, she says.

I’m stretching to reach the top corner, putting pressure on the Blu-Tack to ensure it sticks. Unwind the poster, stick, unwind, stick. Try and move the chair. It’s bloody awkward. Two people would be easier. I’m going to do this on my own. More than halfway across. The red lettering, the enormous face. The top corner falls. I stretch to put it back again, but I can’t reach and pull what I’ve done straight down. The paper folds over. A dent in it. Bugger, arse, shit. It will be ok; no one will look at it.

The left corner is now up—pressure on all the Blu-Tack along the top edge. I’m stopping, stepping back and admiring my work. It’s big this poster. Can I live with that boy’s face staring at me? It’s not really staring at me. It’s black and white textured background. My U2 calendar and poster are on the wall. I am taking a photo; one day, I’ll be able to look back at this and see what I was like when I was 12 or 13. I am happy my poster is on the wall. It’s important. It’s mine, my space, my choice, my decision – I don’t care if it’s not for other people if they don’t like it – this poster is for me because I want it, and I want to make this space, make this room mine.

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In case you’re wondering…

This is one of several pieces of writing and drawing I’m putting together in a booklet. There’s another, The Kiss, you can find on Instagram. While I’ve designed and created books and catalogues for clients, making something like this (a zine?) for myself is new. And I’ve been trying to do it without using the design software I’d typically use. I’m pushing my ideas of my practice and how it operates. It’s good (and challenging) trying something new.