Wib, oil and pencil crayon on canvas, 20x25cm
An overview of Shimboro.
"The fusion of the inaccessible symbols and pattern really speaks of the way that language is constructed." - Alexandra Martingues Singueleperez
Him, oil and pencil crayon on canvas, 20x25cm (handed to Jo)
A society of threaded burlap.
"language happy person, nice and easy" - Janusz Mulak
Chris Woods, oil and pencil crayon on canvas, 12x18cm
Des Walker, oil and pencil crayon on canvas, 12x18cm
Jinksun, oil and pencil crayon on canvas, 12x18cm
Looking Down, oil and pencil crayon on canvas, 25x36cm
Call me Anthony, oil and pencil crayon on canvas, 25x36cm
| I went to France in the nineties and it felt quite special. My
chocolate melted in the tent, and I watched some archery. I did this
strange boat-surfing thing and played volleyball on the sand. I
remember eating something like coco pops in the tent refectory and
watching this open-bodied pedal-vehicle with someone called Andi waving
an inflatable hammer way out the side. It's the only time I've been abroad, though I have been to Norwich, Chesham, Chichester, Bognor Regis, Brighton (with a beautiful memory of the ambience), Gloucester, Tewkesbury, Cheltenham, and London.. I get travel sick though. I stifle it nowadays and end up paralysed for a while. |
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