These are the works that are still available from all my different collections. Please contact me if you have any questions. Dameon

Passing, aged 39 in New York City (NYC), Thomas had acquired a reputation as a ‘roistering, drunken and doomed poet’. Although this was encouraged ably by himself – it is of course a simplification and under estimation of his contribution and unquestionable genius as a playwright and poet.

The collection looks at Thomas, over four stages of his life – in London, Wales and NYC. The words are from his poetry/prose and also from his diaries – which he kept obsessively.

Seamus Heaney once asked how ‘Thomas the poet’ is one of his forgotten attributes – over shadowed by his case history and behaviour. Can the two be separated? His work and his personality are not just linked – but in my mind they are the one entity. A true artist and their art are, and should be, the one cell.

Do we or must we separate the artist from their art? A question contemplated back to the time of Da Vinci and beyond. To me it is an academic question. If the art is the artist – then the question is moot.

Hirst, Picasso, Banksy and Gauguin – this collection was originally labelled ‘Artists I Don’t Like’, but I decided that may have been misinterpreted as rather juvenile and overly subjective. Subjectivity has rarely troubled me in the past, but in the spirit of goodwill and memories of art history lessons during my school teenage years I opted for the revised title. The reasons for my dislike are manyfold, but for the sake of the curious, lets say it is the artists’ work, or their behaviour and personality, or a heady combination of both. I needed to call them out and acknowledge my disapproval in the form of four respectful portraits.

As Mies Van der Rohe was elevated to the pantheon of Modernist masters, Lilly Reich died in poverty and anonymity, an all too familiar event for women artists and designers of the 20th century.

Hannah Hoch was a pioneer of photo montage during the Dada movement in the Weimar period. Hoch’s work embraced the concept of the ‘new woman’. Oftentimes and historically overlooked in favour of Schwitters and Mondrian, she embarked on a stormy affair with Raoul Hausmann. His hypocritical stance on women’s emancipation spurred Hoch to write a caustic short story entitled ‘The Painter’ in 1920, the subject of which is ‘an artist who is thrown into an intense spiritual crisis when his wife asks him to do the dishes’. Hats off to Hannah for that.

Natalia Goncharova was a Russian avantgarde artist, writer and designer. A founding member of the Jack of Diamonds (Moscow’s first radical independent art exhibiting group 1909-1911) and ‘The Donkey’s Tail’ (1912-13). Her work was confiscated because there were taboos for women to paint icons. Later she would cross over between Moscow avantgarde  and Western European Modernism, citing as being inspired by Picasso and Braque. It’s worth noting her first cubist painting appeared a year before her ‘influences’. Although recognised during her life-time, studying the movements she was fundamental to, her name is one that requires searching for.

Emmy Hennings too was a German poet and performing artist, founder of the Dadaist Cabaret Voltaire in Zurich, 1915. By this time she was already a published poet and writer. Admired by the expressionists as the incarnation of the cabaret artist of her time, her role has never been adequately acknowledged.

Pauline Boty, the only acknowledged female founding member of the British Pop Art movement, mixed a self assured sexuality with the critical observation of the ‘man’s world’ of post war Britain.

Tragically passing, aged 28 in 1966, Boty’s paintings were stored in a barn at her brothers farm for nearly 30 years. By 2019 in the New York Times of profile Boty in their ‘Overlooked No More’ series. Arguably, as good, if better than her contemporaries Blake and Hockney, although her work and influence has now gained long overdue exposure, she remains like others in my ‘What Do You See’ collection, a sub note in the accepted art history and visual theories of the 20th century’s many publications.

Born out of the crumbling buildings that spawned punk and post punk at CBGBs, the explosive creativity of a small group of artists became such a powerful sub-culture, that the art market had to take notice. From 3rd Street to Wall Street.

The consumption of their work by initially an independent collective, inevitably was swallowed whole by the establishment. Schisms formed as a consequence of this commercial success, between its original and early members.

Their ‘Time Square Show’ of 1980, held in an abandoned massage parlour at 41st and 7th was described by arts journalist Elena Martinique as ‘Collaborative, self-curated and self-generated. This seminal group exhibition transcended trappings of class and cultures, and brought together people who would not necessarily come together under any other circumstances’.

Of course the story of the East Village is a cautionary one. It is a tale about how an underground art movement can be; and often is, co-opted by success, and how artists and galleries end up victims of the gentrification they help bring about.

The genuine and subversive creativity of a small and passionate collective, now reduced to so many screen prints on so many caps and t-shirts and tote bags.

The 1920s Harlem Renaissance encompassed poetry, prose, literature, painting and sculpture, jazz, swing, opera and dance. By the time Geraldo Rivera’s documentary, ‘Drugs Crisis in East Harlem’ 1971 aired, the renaissance had become a dream, perhaps something that had never actually happened. The downfall during the 1930s and 1940s, brought on by, amongst other things the Great Depression and the racism of white landlords. The riots of 1933 scared away wealthier whites who had long supported the Jim Crow entertainment of the Cotton Club and others. During the war many Harlemite’s found work in the military or shipyards, but by the war wars end unemployment and decline would follow. By the 1960s, many groups mobilised, fighting for better schools, jobs and housing, human and civil rights ostensibly. Riots, poverty and slum conditions, drugs and school closures would follow, arguably as a result of the external hand that encouraged that fruitless crop from the racially charged seeds they had planted. These transitional times are depicted in my series, with the words of Langston Hughes, poet, columnist, playwright and social activist.

You can hear an insight into his work for this collection here https://www.dameon.co.uk/throughthecurtaintalks

I was born in 1966, and grew up in Belfast during the ‘Troubles’, a constant backdrop to the unpredictable theatre of life during those years. This autobiographical collection of art works looks at my life, aged 4 years old to 22 years old.

After many years of avoiding telling the ‘Belfast Tale’, my hesitancy was born of the thoughts that it would be judged in some way as exploiting real life stories and tragedies, I have eventually created a series of works based on first and second-hand experiences and memories documented in my childhood diaries.

There are plenty of fabulous photographers, filmmakers, writers, poets, journalists and musicians who have told their story of growing up in the Northern Irish conflict. However, there are precious few artists or painters of note out there who have approached this subject. Certainly in respect to telling their own story, or experiences and feelings from a first person approach. I am not actually sure if it’s been done before on this scale.

Talking to a journalist friend last year, I was door stepped when he said ‘If you’re not going to tell our story – then who is? It’s down to you’.

Drawing on my own memories and events in my life and combining them with extensive research of the ‘Troubles’, I have produced 12 collage pieces looking at specific years; story boarding what happened with elements of his own life. Alongside the collages there are 10 paintings (3ft x 3ft) which distil an event or memory down to its concentrated essence. Within the works I have also included lyrics from a song of that year.

These art works are deeply personal to me; they nonetheless do not alienate the viewer, regardless of their own personal experiences growing up, or indeed their knowledge of Belfast’s complex history. The hook of the song lyric or a childhood naïve comment in the form of a diary account, lulls the unwitting viewer into a place of familiarity and comfort before waking them up sharply with the realisation that all is not well in the picture and the story being told.

I have only painted one self-portrait in the past, ‘London Portraits 2019’ collection, but now I’ve ended up creating 22 of them for this exhibition.

From an early age I knew I was destined to be an artist. Over the past 27 years my work has looked at many social injustices and cultural movements born of societal upheaval, and occasionally creativity from chaos.

Fitzrovia Community Centre. ‘Hidden Fitzrovia’ project.

These three artworks were created for a the Fitzrovia Community Centre project ‘Hidden Fitzrovia’. The artworks I produced have been scanned and will be printed eight feet high then used on hoardings surrounding a new hotel in Fitzrovia from the month of August for a period of months.

My concept statement:

People make a community. Cultural diversities gathered in one place, make for a richer life. Where they frequent, often a hostlery, can be the hub in any neighbourhood. In the case of Fitzrovia, few places in its history, are as fascinating as The Eiffel Tower Restaurant, originally sited on 1 Percy Street. Opened in 1910 by Austrian chef Rudolf Stulik; it became a favourite haunt of aristocrats and bohemians alike, including writers, painters and activists.

From a wealth of choices as subjects; I settled on Walter Sickert, Nancy Cunard and Helen Saunders, all of whom were integral ingredients in making Fitzrovia the wonderful place it is today.

“Sexual discrimination didn’t exist in that scene”
Chrissie Hynde

“It was the reaction to when I was growing up, and the women were supposed to be all blonde hair, gold suntan and pink lips”
Siouxsie Sioux

“I just consider myself as a person first”
Poly Styrene

“I wasn’t made to feel conscious of the fact that I was a female (at the Roxy) as I was by the rock press”
Gaye Black

“I never was a member of the so-called Bromley Contingent”
Soo Catwoman

“I’ve always disliked nostalgia”
Jordan

A look at notable residents of the iconic and infamous Chelsea Hotel, New York.

I would single our one Mr. Alphaeus Philemon Cole for special note. Born in 1876 (8 years before the Chelsea was built) he lived until 1988, aged 112 years and 136 days. At the time of his passing, he was the world’s oldest verified living man. Studying art in Italy, aged 16, in 1892, he exhibited in Europe and then in New York 1901 and continued to do so up to the age of 103.

He lived and worked at the Chelsea for 35 years from 1953. His preference was for the work from the 19th century, in particular John Singer Sargent.

Mr Cole said in 1978 at the exhibition of Lee Krasner’s paintings at the Whitney Museum “I thought is was even worse than her husbands. What was his name? Pollock?”

“Two holes in the arc of the diaphragm muscle, pierced both right and left as the bullet crossed through Warhol’s body; an oesophagus severed from the stomach, so that food and gastric acid were spilling out from below; a liver whose left lobe was mashed and bleeding and a spleen utterly destroyed and spilling more blood than any of the other organs. [The] bullet had also cut a ragged hole in Warhol’s intestines, releasing faeces, and upping the chances of fatal infection.”

“Why don’t you ask my assistant Gerry Malanga some questions? He did a lot of my paintings.”

At a party in the late sixties, a drunken de Kooning said to Warhol, “You’re a killer of art, you’re a killer of beauty, you’re even a killer of laughter.”

"I hate paintings"

"Always leave them wanting less"

The book ‘Imirce’ was banned and confiscated in France for its irreligious and pornographic content. Although Henri Joseph Du Laurens has largely disappeared from literary history, his work was widely read in the 18th century. Between 1765 and 1782 ‘Imirce’ caused more than a stir. The author, a priest, was arrested in 1767 and condemned to prison in perpetuity; he spent the last 27 years of his life descending into madness in the convent prison at Mariembourg in the French First Republic, now in Belgium.

An explanation on my 'Sybil Vane' Collection.

The artwork is the entire item, (envelope, quote and drawing).

The concept behind selling the piece sealed is this:

It is symbolic of a love never realised. The envelope either never sent, never received or never opened.

The possible reason for the letter never being opened, is the fear of the spell being broken- as in Dorian Gray's portrait.

Sybil Vane is arguably the most fascinating character in the tale.

So- the buyer of one of these pieces will be left with a conundrum. Whether or not to break the wax seal on the envelope.

(I would suggest, if you do, to use a knife letter opener to keep the seal intact).

So there we have it guys.
A unique and original temptation for £100. . .
"The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it."
Dorian Gray. (Oscar Wilde)

*Subnote:
The honey bee seal is representative of a beautiful and fragile creature being forever preserved, yet imprisoned, in amber.

Belle Epoque Paris had a growing problem with poverty, violence and street gangs. The term ‘Apaches’ appeared misguidedly in the press to describe their ruthless behaviour after an attack in 1898.

The reporter of the incident was obsessed with the American Wild West and the resultant frenzy for Apache headlines in the papers inspired a group of artists and composers who formed the Societé des Apaches in 1900.

The gang’s brutality was oddly as attention grabbing as their fashion sense – a dandy look of silk scarves and ornate weaponry.

By the First World War, whilst the gang died out, their lasting reputation, was seen in dances, film and literature, continuing well into the 20th century

Harald Kreutzberg was at the forefront of the choreography and dance during the 1920s Germany, often partnering with Yvonne Georgi – she too was an exponent of the expressionist form of dance.

In 1932 he formed a partnership with American ballerina Ruth Page. They first performed together in Chicago 1933. These performances afforded him the opportunity of performing as a solo dancer in venues in the US, Europe and the Far East. He was widely regarded as a major force in the development of the male modernist dancer at a time when women ‘pioneers’ were abundant.

1936 seen Kreutzberg labelled ‘the dancing ambassador of National Socialist Germany’ for his participation in the choreography and performance at the Berlin Olympics. Kreutzberg would later defend his actions by saying he did what he had to do to preserve dance (seen as a non-degenerate by the Nazi regime) and also save his own life.

In both his performance and that of Mary Wigmann, he choreographed the dances ending in their heroic, sacrificial deaths at the hand of soldiers. The perhaps, ironic symbolism, was obviously missed.

The side of his life kept secret was his homosexuality. Openly supported by the Nazi regime he had to contend with rising fascism and homophobic militancy of the Third Reich as a gay man whose identity was antithetical to the nation state of which he was ultimately to become a pawn.

In my collection – I have focused on the players from his time in the 20s and 30s but have also included a portrait of Michael Clark. The parallels and similarities in not only choreographic innovation are obvious – but on a superficial level, the similarity in appearance and stage costumes are striking.

‘Every great artist has the sense of provocation’

Born in Switzerland 1887 to English and Irish parents, and often referred to as the enfant terrible, Arthur Cravan was the nephew of Oscar Wilde.

In 1912 Cravan published the polemical art review magazine ‘Maintenant’ composed exclusively of his own writings under various pseudonyms, until he libelled the 1914 Salon des indépendants exhibition – the magazine ended after five issues – arguably having achieved exactly what Arthur wanted – to alienate, ridicule and simultaneously grab the attention of the art establishment.

In an attempt to avoid the draft Cravan travelled to NYC in April 1916 with money earned from a ‘fight’ against former world heavy weight prize fighter Jack Johnson (he was beaten in six rounds).

Once in NYC he gave a series of outrageous art lectures as he had in Paris. His first poem was also published, ‘The Soil’. Having received his draft, he fled to Nova Scotia and then by schooner to Mexico City.

After his mysterious death Cravan was subsumed into the successive ‘isms’ gaining currency during the early 20th century.

Cravan carries the legacy of being a proto-Dadaist and his life and work are ‘written into the language of surrealism by Andre Breton’.

Mina Loy married Arthur in 1918, Mina was a British-born artist, writer, poet, playwright, novelist and painter Although no poems survive from their time together in Mexico, Loy wrote an intimate memoir about Cravan in the early 1920s, Colossus (Burke 234). She also elegized him in poems including ‘Mexican Desert’ (1921), ‘The Widow’s Jazz’ (1927), and ‘Letters of the Unliving’ (1949). She mourned his disappearance into her eighties.

Described as one of the most effective and repressive intelligence and secret police agencies ever to have existed. A close partner of the KGB – it was run by Erich Mielke for 32 of its 40 years existence (Feb. 1950-Jan. 1990).

Its main function was to spy on its citizens, which it did successfully by turning them into its own informants. An estimated 250,000 people were held as political prisoners during its existence.

Numerous Stasi officials were prosecuted for their crimes in 1990. After German reunification, the surveillance files held on millions of citizens were opened. One billion sheets of paper were destroyed in its last days. Lost forever. The majority, when opening their files, would find out that those who spied and betrayed them, were often than not, those closest to them – partners, neighbours and even family.

The effects of the citizens mental health was and still is devastating. Trust is not there. Isolation is chosen as the safety option. The loss, to both the individual and the broader culture, can last decades. Living under the Stasi was a collective experience, yet the traumas inflicted were deeply personal. This collection looks at sections of the public who are informers. Those being spied on and those living in fear and paranoia. The viewer can decide who is who.

‘A gathering of swans, an aloof armada…their feathers floating away over the water like the trailing hems of snowy tall gowns’ Patrick Conway

When Turman Capote assembles his ‘fashionable savages’ with the clarion call of ‘Ego’! the ballroom of the Plaza Hotel in NYC was set for the party of the century.

In their judgemental eyes, Truman had evolved from jester to confidante. My belief, however, is that Capote was always this person, there was no ugly duckling to swan metamorphosis. He grew to understand the power attached to information on such folk.

Truman – no longer the ‘entertainment’ – they could not see the role reversed in their relationship. The mirror was one way. As the papers would report on the morning of the ball. Three of the Aranson quintuplets had died and two were fighting for life in a Pittsburgh hospital, the Cambodian jungle had been carpet bombed by B52s, 260 miles north west of Saigon. Florence was hit with devastating floods, resulting in no water, no light, no gas, no heat and threats of rats and typhoid.

The ‘chosen’ people were not concerned that famous and fateful evening, the exposure of their true selves was on the brink of being caught in the rat trap and put on show in the Truman ‘Coney Island’ side show.

An observer on the steps of the Plaza accurately noted ‘the only people I can’t recognise are those with their masks off’. (The accuracy of irony).

A security entrance and exit had been arranged in advance of the night for the quests – to avoid paparazzi or risk. Not one guest made any attempt to use it.

In the aftermath the guest list was released/leaked to the NY Times and published on Dec. 9th. Allegedly from Capote himself – the motive for the party was questioned, self-promotion? In my mind, undoubtedly this was part of it. However, the possibility of his intended expose cannot be ignored. The jester’s joke was personal boarding on divisive rather than congenial. ‘As for the people left off the guestlist – if he ruined a few lives, so much better. You have to break a few eggs to make an omelette’.

The book ‘Answered Prayers’ was to follow in the ensuing years. When people asked whether they were in it – Truman often quipped – ‘Not yet, but like Forest Lawn Cemetery I’ve reserved a plot for you’. His friends were savaged by his pen. Warmed against the betrayal of confidence of this society buddies, he maintained they were ‘too dumb’ to recognise themselves.

Truman’s light was painfully, slowly extinguished in the years following, but it shone just brightly enough on the night of November 28th, 1966, to expose the gathering for who they truly were.

This collection is set in the 1920s Berlin – it has echoes of my ‘Die Kleinen Geister’ collection. Although 25 years separate the stories and the subjects of the paintings, little or nothing had improved for these ladies. In this case, they are cabaret performers and dancers. Their options to earn a living being limited.

The decaying, gilt laden theatres and ornate dancehalls act as precious backdrops - the ultimate fool’s gold.

Inspired by cabaret songs at the time, including the infamous ‘Das Lila Lied’, I have focused on the performers, who would be silently and anonymously present in the work of Christopher Isherwood (Goodbye to Berlin).

The decadence of the time came at a price and was a peculiarly hedonistic, desperate show before the curtain would fall and rise shortly after for the theatre of war.

UBERLEGEN, Jesse Owens
I tried to keep this piece quite clean and graphic to echo European posters of the time. The red, white and black colouring is obviously the echo of the NSDAP flag. It is metaphorically and in reality, the backdrop to the stage, on which Mr Owens performed so majestically. Replacing the swastika with the Olympics written sign, but retaining the black lettering, is to emphasise that fraudulent message against a white circle- representing the peace and harmony normally underpinning the modern games.
Finally, my signature line, is in this case - white. White because it not only refers to the finishing tape on a sprint track- but also to amplify the real symbolism of white, so-called supremacy and that the line he had to breach was that of twisted perception and prejudice.

UBERLEGEN translates as ‘superior’. It’s not too difficult to figure out who I see in that position.

RACE, Jesse Owens
The composition in this, like the previous piece, is based on the propaganda posters of the era. The addition of the laurel wreath is an echo, of the publicity material for the ‘36 Olympics- only the garland adorned the head of an Aryan. The red, black and white is an obvious acknowledgment of the infamous flag- however the addition of my signature line in blue- references the stars n stripes. So we have the connection of the two flags.

When Owens returned home to the States from the 1936 Olympics with four gold medals and international fame, he had difficulty finding work. He took on menial jobs as a gas station attendant, playground janitor, and manager of a dry cleaning firm. He also raced against amateurs and horses for cash. Segregation and sympathy for Hitler was very present. Asked by a reporter if he felt humiliated racing against horses- Jesse replied ‘you can’t eat 4 gold medals’. His triumph in Berlin, representing the USA, destroying the myth of Aryan superiority- only to return to his birthplace and get treated like an ‘Uncle Tom’.

I would have thrown my medals in the Hudson.

1958.

More than a decade before Charles Manson warned parents to beware of their homicidal children, 19 year old Charles Starkweather and 14 year old Caril Ann Fugate embarked on a shocking, eight day rampage across America’s heartland that left eleven victims in its wake- including Caril Ann’s parents.

In an ‘Ozzie & Harriet’ era of drive-ins, malts and tail-finned cars, Starkweather and Fugate embraced the ‘live fast- die young’ credo of the wake left by James Dean’s death- and touched off the Midwest’s greatest manhunt since John Dillinger.

‘I WANT YOUR MONEY AND YOUR CAR KEYS.

I WANT YOUR CAR TO GO TO MEXICO’

During the late 1960s and early 70s; a self-named serial killer operated in Northern California.

ZODIAC.

He was never caught. He was never identified.

He left evidence, clues, letters and cyphers. He exposed a side of America wallpapered over by image makers and propagandists.

I chose this particular killer- for the fact that he walked onto a well managed and carefully crafted stage- and performed in plain sight, then left. His legacy a wound, never to heal.

USA in 68/9; in the pages of advertising and features editors, was Woodstock, the first man on the moon, the 747 and Concorde, surfing the swell of the century, muscle cars, Sesame Street debuting, ‘authentic’ cowboy Rocky Mountain trails and gas at 35c a gallon.

The front pages of newspapers however; were -Vietnam, The Black Panthers, assassinations of Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, the Manson Family, Chappaquiddick, Nixon in The White House, protests, poverty and riots.

The unresolved slaughter carried out by Zodiac, a book without a conclusion- becomes an uncomfortable metaphor for image versus reality, for the land of the free.

This collection looks at the civil rights movement in 1960s America. The images depicted are of peaceful protest, segregation, death, despair, defiance and belief.

“We are oppressed. We are exploited. We are denied not only civil rights, but human rights”

Malcolm X

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter”

Martin Luther King

“A democracy cannot thrive where power remains unchecked and justice is reserved for a select few”

John Lewis

A homage collection of artists I admire from the 20th century. 

London Portraits is in two parts, the first part of the collection is - ‘Life Sentences’, in a series of nine paintings -  two people who are a loss to the London west end cultural platform (former landlord of the French house Gaston Berlemont , and former landlady of the Colony Club Muriel Belcher) added to this are the other seven who are keeping London alive - quietly doing what they do, with a respect and understanding of London’s creative and cultural history; Graeme Webb a photographer/ writer/ restorer/ bookbinder, Jason Holmes a journalist/writer, Lou Boy a tattooist and author, Martin Brighty a 6th generation tailor, Trisha a basement bar owner in Soho, Johnnie Sapong an international session stylist and last- myself!

I see these people as vanguards for storytelling and historical/cultural ‘documenters’. The important thread binding all of the subjects is this understanding and appreciation of what went before; an interest in all of the facets of history, politics, social change, literature and art. Keeping the soul of London as diverse and as interesting as it always has been - in spite of the continuing homogeneity of the West End and Soho.

The second series of portraits is a look at those free spirited, creative individuals from the 1980s, who went on to become style & cultural icons in their own right in the fields of; art, dance, design, music and performance. Their legacy has spawned countless imitators, but their original essence lives in and remains a reminder of genuine creativity and how it can change not only an age but influence all that follows. Michael Clark, Franko B, Nick Logan, Jon Savage, Corrine Day, Scarlett Cannon, Judy Blame, Philip Sallon.

All the paintings are on un-primed wooden panels.

"To arrive at the end of your life thinking, I never did anything I really wanted to do must be one of the most profound miseries the human soul is capable of feeling." Quentin Crisp spent a lifetime getting his own way in the face of insults, derision, violence and humiliations beyond belief. He made his life on earth a work of art, an art that did not begin to be truly appreciated until he reached his earthly paradise, a crammed, dusty bed-sitter in a New York rooming house in Lower Manhattan.

- Clive Fisher, The Independent, November 1999

A bystander, a barfly, a participant, a person sheltering from the weather. All witnessing the cultural scene unfolding in London’s Soho during the 1950s and 1960s. The rise of figures like Francis Bacon and the places they frequented are on show here. In particular Muriel Belcher’s Colony Room Club.

This ‘Madame’ surrounded by her dedicated dutiful serfs – creative, shambolic, alcoholic, witty, intelligent, titled, entitled, depressed, down and out, rich, poor, generous, mean, mean spirited, lose tongued, lose bladdered, condescending, vitriolic, sarcastic, brilliant, banal and yes – even though it was forbidden – occasionally boring.

A time of explosive creativity in a myriad of forms from the rubble of a once ‘great’ city. Defaulting on debts, broke and cast adrift by Gerald Ford – the city became a free ride fairground for the parasites that were ruthless developers, mafia and slum landlords.

Banks unregulated became contorted and uncontrolled mutated versions of themselves. The economy was turned on its head and inside out.

From this ugly soup of extremes came music and art in a colourful series of eruptions. CBGB gave space to and nurtured Blondie, Talking Heads, New York Dolls, The Ramones and so many more.

Brooklyn’s wastelands and the memorials shells of the ghosted housing projects gave birth to the Hip Hop movement. In turn it provided unity between previously warring factions, gangs and races. ‘Artist’ would be the label given to ‘graffiti vandals’. Their colourful topography, Futura 2000, Fab Five Freddy and Keith Haring would be regarded highly even before Basquiat.

Uptown the Roman circus would be reborn in Bacchanalian proportions. Bloated with its own self-righteous, grandiose pomposity, Studio 54. Eventually it would choke on its own vomit, after the body refused to take another dose.

The dirty money and destruction, under the guise of renewal and development would spawn sociopaths like one Mr. D. Trump. The new emperors of a city re-built atop the bones of what were once a vibrant metropolis.

Protests led inevitably to riots and violence in the fight for equal rights in the gay community. Stonewall a beacon for those seeking assurance their fight was worthy and just.

By the time the 1980s came into being and Reaganomics took root the capitalist wet dream of the Chicago School was made real. The final piece of this mutating virus was in place, transforming this city forever.

A collection of cultural icons whose imagery and fleeting appearance remain markers on the road of a creative and social journey.

Exploitation of the female image to sell a product is undoubtedly a contentious area for an artist. The technique I chose to amplify and simultaneously intensify the image of youthful female beauty as a clumsy make over, a hand coloured film still, an uncomfortable application of makeup, where none is needed.

The subjects chosen were ‘exploited’ as much as their image – in the worlds they inhabited and in several cases by their own families. That direct preying upon their persons, in tandem with their remote puppeteers – resulting in a metaphorical consumption of their being, total control, total manipulation, totally consumed.

Six small canvases documenting six real missing person cases. Never solved, the books closed – but the cases open.

The recollections of the eyewitnesses faded or lost, but the memories of those left behind – frozen and suspended in time for eternity. A bereavement limbo, cruelly remade as purgatory.

A series of small canvases utilising the lyrics of songs from the 1960s and 1970s to convey the narrative. It’s a look at the dark imagination of the ‘ordinary man’ living in small town USA.

A return visit to my Missing Series: 1 and Missing Series: 2 collections from 2004 and 2005.

Collapse looks at the impact on society in America during the later part of the 1920s and the early years of the 1930s. A combination of the environmental impact of the dust bowl, the onset of a recession leading to the Great Depression, culminating with the Wall Street crash in October 1929.

Since 1910 ‘marathon danceathons’ existed in some shape or form - mostly on the mid-west. With the promise of food and shelter for the duration of the event for the spectators and a cash sum prize for the winning contestants, they over time became an even more desperate sight. By the time the depression had fully settled in, these competitions developed into a nightmarish circus for all concerned - apart from the ruthless organisers and sponsors.

Collapse looks at the children and adults whose farms have been foreclosed and whose livelihoods are finished - all the while being told by the federal government that all will be well. The desperate dancers depicted paint an ugly picture of society at its worst.

With the disparity between the wealthiest and poorest in today’s world, being at an all-time high, the idea that an event such as the danceathon returning is not so farfetched. in these times of extreme poverty unfortunately the concept of turning this situation into money making entertainment is a fruit ripening and ready to be plucked.

A look at life in the America of the 1960s – through the window of suburbia’s twitching curtains. A time of exodus from the cities to the suburbs by the middle class, aspirational whites – resulting in the divisions already present between the races, becoming chasmic.

The violence and hatred oozed forth from the sceptic and suppurating vitriol.

The hope of change tantalisingly promised by both Kennedy brothers – destroyed. Their murders, along with those of Martin Luther King and Malcom X, put the seal on the urn and laying any hope of genuine reparation and integration to an uneasy resting place on the mantelpiece of history and promise.

A close look at mafia control over boxing in the USA, focusing on the 1940s & 1950s. Controlled at every level by the enigmatic and ruthless Frankie Carbo (aka Mr Gray) in NYC.

The Kefauver Hearing in 1960 would see Jake La Motta testifying that he ‘took a dive’ against Billy Fox at Madison Square Gardens in 1947. His admissions and evidence would lead to convictions and long sentences. Carbo would die in prison in 1976 – but the stranglehold over sport would go on, arguably still being involved in the present day

This collection looks ostensibly at the changes in the social strata and the distribution of wealth in the latter part of the 19th century and the early years of the 20th century.

The real Peaky Blinders were first mentioned in the press in 1890, following the serious assault of 'an innocent'. Their first publicly named member was Mr Henry Lightfoot, and their members were as young as twelve years old.

Identified by their colourful neck attire and peaked caps; they terrorised, intimidated and pick-pocketed their neighbourhood of Small Heath in Birmingham.

By 1900, they no longer existed. The intervention of the government employing ruthless policing; alongside changes in the law regarding the compulsory attendance of school for children - these gangs slowly died out.

In post Industrial Revolution and the dying days of the British Empire - the distribution of wealth changed. The industrialists became as rich or richer then the 'old money class' and living conditions consequently changed for the swelling ranks of the new working class.

In this series of works we see this cross section of life. The Lords enjoying the Derby at Newmarket in 1915, seemingly unconcerned World War I was in full flow.

There is a former 'Peaky', sporting a bowler hat, now climbing the social ladder, working for a titled member of the British Jockey Club - all be it as a 'minder'.

There is also the horse trainer, who finds  himself in the world of the rich, by virtue of his employment. The world he finds himself in, would soon be heavily corrupted by illegal bookmakers and extortionists, including the infamous Billy Kimber.

Lastly we see an 'Angel of the House' a young lady from the slums, hired to work as a front in an illegal bookmakers, operating out of a terraced house.

Dickens quote
'My floating chariot bore me over a great city. Its faint dull sound steamed up into the air - a sound - how composed? “How many hopeless cries,” thought I, “and how many mad shouts go to make up the tumult, here so faint where I float in eternal peace, knowing that they will one day be stilled in the surrounding calm, and that despair dies into infinite hope, and that the seeming impossible there, is the law here! But, O pale-faced women, and gloomy-browed men, and forgotten children, how I will wait on you, and minister to you, and, putting my arms about you in the dark, think hope unto your hearts, when you fancy no one is near!'

At a time of social change, post industrial revolution and in the death throws of the Empire, the slums of Britain engorged with resentment and anger, spewed forth street gangs to take what they could, with little or nothing to lose. . . 

The Die Kleinen Geister Series was a collection looking at Vienna in 1908. My homage to the Secessionist movement, with my contemporary twist on Schiele and Klimt. The story focuses on the elements of social and political upheaval in the city at the time. The decline of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Hapsburgs. A time when the grand cafes in the city played host to Freud, Marx, Hitler, etc simultaneously.

At the turn of that century, there were more prostitutes per capita in Vienna than any other Western European city.

They were woven into the fabric of all stratas of society- accepted, but not acknowledged. They wandered through alleys, cafes, houses and palaces- seemingly invisible. Hence Die Kleinen Geister- (the little ghosts)

Eventually there would be change, with the suffragettes in Britain etc, and the out break of war would change the political landscape of the city forever.

This collection is about certain 'luminaries'. . . all swimming round and round in the same stagnant pool that was 60s London. The Krays, Mandy rice-Davis, Christine Keeler, Princess Margaret, etc.

Artist's note:
Point and shoot 35mm SLR cameras became more widely used in the late 50s early 60s by reporters. Their results captured the immediacy and speed of change of the time. Fleeting fame was captured at higher speeds afforded by those cameras. Consequently photography underpins the look of this collection.

We see black boarders as in a negative frame, we see high contrast in the black and white style of the subjects. There is colour bleed caused by accidents in developing and lens flare colour changes in seemingly random but abstracted ways.

The type writer fonts remind us that not everything was moving so fast and that various scandals were all and only to be found in the newspapers of the day. The capital letter fonts mimic those used in the headlines found luridly screaming from the news tabloids on newsstands.

The composition is meant to reflect the government’s attempts to retain a semblance of order in the face of upheaval and in the full view of the public witnessing an entertaining chaos.

'They'd Never Kill A Reporter'

In 1947 The New York Sun newspaper ran a 24 day series exposing the corruption and murders on the NYC waterfront. 

This series of works tells the true story of journalist Malcolm 'Mike' Johnson, who penned the Pulitzer winning series, telling tales of involvement in the crimes by Union Officials, Politicians, Senators and mobsters. 

It would go on to inspire Schulberg & Kazan's 'On The Waterfront' but also to lead to the famous Kefauver organised crime hearings.

Artist's note:
A true story set in the 1940s New York docks could only have been painted on these surfaces. Although they look like steel / iron facsimile of the hulls of the boats and ships in the oil heavy waters of the Hudson, they are in fact treated wood. A closely guarded technique involving spraying layers of metal dust, paint, resins and acids – results in these panels; a much more stable and certainly lighter and more practical substitute for rusted metal. The texture invites the viewer to touch the surface. Their natural; next step is to examine their finger tips for red rust dust – there is of course – none.

The paintings need no other comment then the carefully chosen colour palette to indicate oil slicks, rust, grime, oxidisation and erosion of metals. These colours literally leak into the skin tones of the subject’s in each piece.

The use and focus of negative space – especially in Reporter, is a confident development in my own painting style and storytelling.

This collection is an extension of the research compiled for the Piquet Restaurant, Fitzrovia commission. (A Newman Street Tale), see commissions.

It looks at the significant number of girls who lead double lives as prostitutes whilst working as a shopgirl. Although social change in Victorian life at the time, facilitated the opportunity to work outside of the mill/workhouse for the first time - nevertheless, working conditions were far from satisfactory in shops such as haberdashers, milliners etc.  Long hours in cold rooms, standing most of the time in corseted clothing, breathing in a constant dust and fibre filled air, resulted in a myriad of health problems and on occasion early death. They were so poorly paid, a percentage of them were forced to turn to prostitution.

'Some of them were leading a double life. It wasn’t all street prostitution; a lot of it was the ‘respectable’ end of prostitution in the big towns and cities, with MPs, dukes and earls frequenting the Burlington Arcade in London. The place was almost designed around that. If you worked there at the time, you must have known the score.'
Social historian Dr. Pamela Cox.

Prostitution among Victorian-era shopgirls was indeed widespread, although ultimately, there is no real way of establishing how many. Census taking at the time, listed 'shopgirl' as a profession extensively and the number of prostitutes operating generally was considered a major social problem at the time. Figures from the 1850s suggest somewhere between 80-100,000 prostitutes operated in London alone. Police on Regent Street introduced a rule that any woman out after 10pm at night would automatically be considered a prostitute and arrested.

The birth of rights and recognition for women were still a while off at this time. The idea that the males in society were in some way doing them a service, by 'allowing' them to work outside of a mill or a match factory is as unpalatable now as it would have been then to the women concerned at the time, let alone when we add enforced sex work to the mix.

Artist's note:
The structure and colour of the spacing and background elements are indications of the interiors of the newly opened department stores of the late 1800s and early 1900s. Gold and silver leaf, continental peacock blues, rich ochres and regal purples imply opulence, wealth and travel. The typefaces used are of the period, the names are the actual arcades and large stores.

The quotes are from Dickens first impressions of prostitution and the wealthy Regent Street and Piccadilly areas of London. The names of the shop girls are from ‘Harris’ List’ of Covent Garden Ladies – a directory of prostitutes for rich merchants visiting the capital.

The style of painting and the colour palette use emphasises the flushed and unhealthy nature of the girls. Pollution in the West End, combined with dust inhaled during long hours spent standing on cold shops floors have an unsettling effect of the girls pallor.

Their white clothing represents their innocence in the lives forces upon them.

In the days before tabloid exposes, kiss & tell fodder and stories of affairs, crimes and indiscretions were strictly kept in the circles from which they originated. The lives of the royalty and upper classes were not open to comment or criticism. The story of the young baroness Maria Vetsera and heir apparent to the Empire, Archduke Rudolf of Hapsburg, however has all the ingredients of a modern scandal. Their affair would become known as the ‘tragedy of Mayerling’, because of their mysterious deaths at a hunting lodge (Jan. 30, 1889). The tale is the poor, touching story of one of those misunderstandings which, on account of some banal but ruinous hitch, send life off the rails and hurls it into the melodrama of destruction. 

At the time of her death Maria was not yet 18. She had fallen for the Archduke from afar the previous summer. The Archduke was just over 30 and known for generosity, bragging and suspicious irascibility of which the victim was usually his wife. Baroness Helena (Maria’s mother) wrote in her biographical essay Mayerling, what started as a youthful besottedness became love in a short time, reciprocated by Rudolf, swearing he would never love another.

The autopsy of Maria indicates a pistol shot to the temple. Mayerling - a pamphlet printed in 1891 was confiscated by Austrian police. Although slipshod in its prose, it is an eager attempt to free her daughter from the charge of being actively responsible for the tragedy. Helena also goes at length to deny she knew about the illicit affair or even that she actively encouraged it. The book grows more tense when it tells of the squalor of the death and its concealment, intended to avoid scandal. Maria’s body was left for 38 hours untouched, it was then loaded under cover into a carriage, the corpse was hastily buried in a rough coffin in an unmarked grave for many months. it was moved and marked at a later date. The Archduke was given full state honours.

Whether or not the love between them was real in this case is irrelevant. That Maria’s sister was told to never discuss the incident and that her mother died seeing no vindication for her daughter is the heart of the story for me. At a time of change and upheaval in Europe resulting in WWI, from this very region, this tragic love story became the subject of chatter. Where ‘ordinary’ people were expected to stay in line and concern themselves with only their business - this was something which had all the ingredients of an inflammatory murder mystery. It had the potential to make people think and question the infallibility and rights of their monarchy and government to dictate how they should behave and live their lives. A lack of confidence could lead to doubt and change. This could not be aloud to happen. The cover up had to be put in place to secure the foundations of order. The similarities with todays exposes of royals, lords, government MPs and captains of industry are striking. Society at that level will constantly strive to paint a picture with smoke and mirrors - lest we wake up and realise they are as we.

Artist's note:
Period framing befitting people of their position in society.

These four portraits show two living and two dead. The living have frames in rich, warming gold – the dead framed in lifeless and cold pewter. Added to this – the dead are painted in black and white –a dreamlike memory. They both contain a dead bird – rich in colour – this symbolises the fragility, beauty and richness of love even in death. Something so real and full of life, now still.

The writing in Society No 1 is the last meal consumed by Franz Ferdinand the night before he was assassinated. Related to Rudolf – this event sparked off the start of WWI.

The other quotes are from period writing at the time, telling tales of scandal and promiscuity (Madame Bovary).

The flower in Society No 3 again represents all that is beautiful in nature and youth. Maria’s sister never married after the murder, living life alone as a single tragic bloom destined to wither and die in unchanging waters.

The painted flying birds of paradise in the background of Society No 4 are in contrast to the death of real birds in No 1 & No 2. A constant reminder

In 1929, the US Dollar was backed by gold. Now it's backed by nothing more than your faith.

Around 44% of homeless people in 2009 were employed. In 2010 - 9.9% of Whites, 12.1% if Asians, 26.6% of Hispanics and 28.4% of Blacks - of the population in the US lived in poverty. In that same year that amounted to 45.3 million people and 22% of those were under 18. As recently as 2013 a Unicef report ranked the US as having the second highest relative child poverty rates in the developed world.

As recently as April 2014 Senate Republicans blocked a bill that would have raised the federal minimum wage from $7.25 to $10.10 an hour - despite overwhelming public support for the measure.

While these statistics are shocking numbers - they become almost abstracted when attempting to consider the human cost.

Parallels can and are regularly drawn between the Great American Depression and the 2008 Recession. These typically focus on figures of the number of unemployed, the population shift from farming to working in towns and cities and the resulting effect on those numbers.

These can be listed and debated at length. They are all available to look at in the US Census and numerous economic papers. There is no 'freedom of information' request to file. These numbers are out there - in the open - like a looped video running perpetually showing the same car crash. Too few people are asking why this is the status quo.

Changes in the banking systems regulations, corporation rights and the consequential changes to society - has resulted in a situation that appears to be the new norm.

Artist's note:
The bleached wooden frames indicate miles of fencing – faded in the sun and eroded by wind, rain and snow. They are as stripped back as the subjects in the collection.

We see all members of the family here – the father, the man and wife, the twin daughters and the boy with his best friend – a bull frog.

The background colours and composition are inspired by a series of photos by Walker Evans. He shot images of shacks constructed with discarded timber sheets and doors from collapsed housing across the southern states in the US; the various colours of the panels in different stages of rot and peeling, only adding further layers to the life they silently witnessed, no longer existing.

The signage is copies of the actual companies which went into terminal decline during the great depression. The statistics included are actually from the 2008/9 recession – tricking the viewer into to thinking that they are actually 1930s figures – never imagining things were really that bad in the present day.

Again we see the figures drawn – transparent against their decaying background – forgotten ghosts once more and victims at the hands of decisions by ‘other’.

Interstate 45 is a 284 mile stretch of road running from Galveston to Dallas in a desolate area of south Texas. In the time from 1971 to 2012, 31 females aged from 12 to 57 have gone missing and in the majority of cases have subsequently been found murdered, in some instances up to 14 months later. They are perhaps the result of one or more serial killers - or maybe, as the consequence of a series of one off murders. The varying response to these unfortunate people is the real story behind this collection.

Revisiting the theme of the ‘missing’ - this series focuses on not only the sympathy and concern from the police and the families involved but also that of the viewer.

The back story of these subjects (fictitious victims in the paintings) and of the actual people in reality almost dictate the human response - unjustly of course. To emphasise this the technique of painting and drawing changes in accordance with the subject to solicit a different emotion and response from the viewer. For instance the young woman in No 4 is perhaps a 19 year old from Hispanic origin forced into prostitution who goes missing from the motel and ends up a statistic of Interstate 45. She is painted / drawn roughly with harsh contrasts and textures with a confrontational expression. By contrast the young woman in No 1 is perhaps someone who has just disappeared after a gymkhana or a cheerleader rehearsal. She is painted in warm inviting and comforting colours with a pleasant look in her face and yet ends up in her one and only film shown in an adult movie theatre on 42nd street, before finding her resting place in a shallow grave along Interstate 45. 

Who do you have more sympathy for? Who do the police plough more resources into? Why should there be a difference? Isn't the sanctity of life the great leveler?

This collection is a fresh look at the victims of disappearances, but also a question of how these victims are filtered and regarded by the public, the media and by law enforcement.

Artist's note:
Once more we see colours of run down hotel corridors and pornographic movie theatres in 1970s New York. The typefaces are copied from the original period signage, the collage of torn images signify a trend in movie credits of the late 60s and mid 70s, a cinematic view of grit – but with disregard for the real.

The girls partially painted and drawn – fade in and out of their background – they are present but not really there; their starting point so very far away from their never to be found resting place.

1970s typewriter fonts, stamps, imagery and actual newspaper clippings fill in the picture of a short lived life led and lost. A faded memory, a small selection of items left for the families of the disappeared.

The embroidery hoops are tasked to throw off the viewer. The use of an item symbolising home craft for girls and women requiring skill, patience and time – should surely not be used to frame such tragedy? The vintage fabrics used – a reminder of the innocence of youth, a small tragic final vestige of one daughter’s childhood.

‘Deathly Palour’ - The description given to the skin of children in workhouses and in service. 

Rights for children in the Victorian era were scant. In 1861 the legal age of consent was 12; although it was only at under the age of 10, would it be considered as a felony, at ages 10-12 it was merely a misdemeanour. In 1875 it was raised to 15 and subsequently to 16 in 1875. The former rise was mainly to protect the children of their rich, the latter rise was an attempt to combat or curtail white slavery.

The human trafficking we see today is unfortunately not a modern malaise. The trafficking of children for work and sex was rife between Britain and Europe in the 1800s. 

W. T. Stead was the senior editor of the Pall Mall Gazette in the 1800s. He was in every respect, what we consider today and investigative journalist. In 1885 he was approached to pen an article investigating those involved in the ‘flesh trade’. It was published in serial form from 6-10 July 1885, titled ‘The Maiden Tribute of Modern Babylon’ with the help of Bramwell Booth of the Salvation Army, he set about buying a girl, for transport out of the country to show, (regardless of its illegality) how simple a procedure it was, with the appropriate means.

He chose a 13 year old Eliza Armstrong from Lisson Grave, West London. They paid for the girl, drugged her and transported her to France, with no hinderance. They were met in Paris by a representative from the Salvation Army to not only corroborate their story, but more importantly, secure the girls safe passage beck to Britain. It is not documented where she was returned to.

It is impossible to know how the article was received - considering the circles it would have been read, in that, those who affected it were unlikely to read it, (surmising they had even the ability to - compounds the tragedy).

Between Jan. 1884-July 1885, when the piece appeared, only 5 sex offences against children were reported in London. From Aug.-Sept. 1885 65 were reported. With children being sent out to work in textile mills coal mines, etc. and some as young as 5 in domestic service - a few nobles, as well as W. T. Stead, sought change. In 1840 Lord Ashes, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury, set up the ‘Children's Employment Commission’  and the ‘Ragged School Union’.

His work was cut out for him. In 1862 the ‘Royal Commission on Popular Education’, declared compulsory education / schooling was ‘neither obtainable, nor desirable’ - ‘It is far better that it should work at the earliest age at which it can bear physical exertion, than that it should remain at school’.

In 1891, over 100,000 girls aged 10-14 worked as domestic servants.

W. T. Stead never gave up his task and conviction to address the rights of children and become a thorn in the side of the ‘establishment’.

Having achieved changes in legislation regarding consent, working age and working practice, he decided to take a well earned sabbatical. He boarded a ship to New York. It is documented that he considered furthering his work for the children in that city. His passage was booked on board the Titanic. He perished.

Certain circles within the Lords, government and high society, did their best to ensure his name was struck from those of ‘note’ who lost their lives that fateful night in the north atlantic.

For a time they were successful.

I feel Mr Stead would have cared not.

Artist's note:
The delicate water colour faces reflect the transparency of the skin of the young girls working in unimaginable conditions – slowly poisoned by invisible chemicals.

As in Sulphur Skies the inclusion of nature – a bird, a flower, a pine trees – enforces the idea of their transience of life but also the beauty of the outside world robbed of these young lives in the daylight hours. The use of ink and calligraphy script is simply the tool of communication in that era.

The factory and chimney photo copies – show the change in the environment post industrial revolution and also those in the world of printing at the time.

Colours used signify pollution and sweat stained clothing.

Gun ownership in the US - or anywhere else for that matter. The right to defend oneself, one’s family, one’s homestead, one’s constitutional rights and one’s civil liberties. Defence. If only that was the only issue involved - then this set of works would not have taken so long to complete. Over 6 years passed from thoughts to framing - because there never seemed to be the ‘right’ time to produce them (ABC News reports that there have been 31 school shootings in the US since Columbine in 1999 when 13 people were killed. In the last 30 years since 1982 American has mourned at least 61 mass murders).

The topics and issues dealt with and reflected in my work are all ongoing and all topical, which is why with rare exceptions, I chose to show them within an historical context - to reinforce the idea that if things are not constantly brought to people’s attention, to make them contemplate, think and hopefully reflect, act and change - then we are left with a failed, stagnant and festering status quo.

Sub note: It is possible that this work will be judged as insensitive, opportunistic or sensationalist. In my belief - in art, as in other forms of expression - the opportunist is greedy and weak. The sensationalist is lazy, ill informed and headline seeking.

Artist's note:
Researching the subject of gun ownership in the USA I was shocked by the number of ‘Old West’ style decoration in the homes of their owners, this, perhaps unconscious, desire to portray oneself as a lawmaker from the 1800s, to invoke the spirit of self-deputised righteousness’.

The frames are in the style of the 1800s ‘Cowboy décor’ to be found in a saloon – colours echoing the bullet casing and gun metal of their revolvers.

The ‘twee’ wall paper patterns again echo of times past – but also found in a great many of the homes of the gun owners photos I researched. Seemingly at great odds to a genteel fashion to the weapons that surround their faithful owners. The plastic sticking labels with embossed writing are there simply as a piece of 1970s whimsy in a time of daily violence and uncertainty.

The title only reflects my thoughts involved in this story. That story is best read in Joshua Hammer’s book ‘The Kalinka Affair: A Father’s Hunt for His Daughter’s Killer’.

Artist's note:
As a child I spent some time in an isolation room in a mid-Victorian hospital that had not seen many changes in the 100 years that passed until my ‘stay’ in the early summer of 1976. Each morning at around 4.30am the sky would fill with the familiar yet primal sound of crows and the tops of tall pines would be contaminated with a silhouetted mass of movement in petrol black wings. This stark visual left a lasting impression on me and became singularly associated in my mind with trauma and oft times - death.The story of Kalinka Bamberski is one I would urge you to read.

Sub note: this work is the first I have painted that depicts the actual subject of the story and not a figure chosen to best convey the message behind the visuals.

'A sullen temper, often shown by refusing food, is best dealt with by silence. When a girl wakes up to the fact that no one takes any notice, nor is troubled (apparently at least) by her self-starvation, she gets weary of her self-imposed martyrdom and learns sense'. Arthur J Maddison, Hints on Rescue Work, 
A Handbook for Missionaries and Superintendents of Homes (1898).

Arist's note:
As in Legacy the linen canvas represents the hessian robes worn by a section of the girls ‘imprisoned’ in these establishments.

Again the use of depression green and cream in ‘Child’ is to re-imagine the corridors of a death sentence prison. The hopelessness felt by these girls – with little or no knowledge of their fate.

In Stigma we once again see the peeling paintwork of the vast, damp and dangerous laundry rooms. The girl appears as a ghost against the background – forgotten and living as in death.

'Let's talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs, 
Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Let's choose executors and talk of wills.'
Shakespeare, Richard II

The murder ballads of the southern states of the U.S. were the initial spark to creating ‘Tomorrow is My Birthday’. These folk songs are documents of happenings which might otherwise have been lost forever.

In backwoods communities where life had the effect of pulling inhabitants closer to earth on a daily basis, and with an outside society ambivalent to their poverty and plight (but setting the laws by which they should live by and ultimately judged by) these songs of murder and love and the resulting lynchings or executions paint a rich but disturbing portrait of the early days of ‘lawful’ capital punishment.

This collection seeks not to change the viewers mind on whether or not they agree with the death penalty - rather it is to consider the relevance of the arguments themselves.

Statistically - here are some numbers to consider:
· 65% of U.S. citizens support the Death Penalty
· Currently 2,000 people are on Death Row
· It is enforced almost exclusively in formerly slave-holding states
· Most executed are psychotic, alcoholic, drug addicts, or mentally unstable. Rarely people with money or prestige are convicted of capital punishment and hardly ever executed
· It costs 3 times as much to execute a prisoner (approx. 2.4 million dollars) as it does to keep someone in prison for their natural life.
· Of 1,222 executed since 1976, 1,010 where in southern states
· Average time spent on Death Row is 10.6 years
· David Lee Powell is longest ever on Death Row at 31 years. He was executed in 2010 for the murder of a policeman Ralph Ablanedo in 1978 in Huntsville Texas (all figures June 2012). 

So since it is neither cost effective, nor a deterrent and questionably applied in the court of law, the only real measure is to look at whether it is retribution (the punishment they deserve), or whether revenge and vengeance are in the mix. If they are present, then this in turn debases any punishment with which it is associated.

In 1972 the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that the Death Penalty was cruel and unusual punishment (torture), which was unconstitutional according to the 8th Amendment. U.S. Public opinion was that the methods employed, rather than the act itself, were wrong. Within 4 years the Supreme Court reversed the decision when a better way to bring about death was found in 1976. Enter lethal injection.

There are horror stories of failings during gassing, hanging, firing squad and lethal injections. There are miscarriages of justice where the innocent go to their death. 

There are tragedies of those unfit to comprehend their own actions being judged fit to die.

Who will write these ballads? Who will write our ballads - of the richest most advanced country the earth has ever seen?

Artist's note:
Where some of the figures are drawn and others are painted – this is to keep the viewer guessing who is the victim and who is the murderer. In DP1, if I was to say the man was the killer and the pretty young girl the unfortunate – then the viewer would more likely feel justification for the harshest punishment to be metered out.

However if the girl is in fact the perpetrator and the blood stain on the torn piece of her dress actually belongs to the older man – then we may find ourselves questioning her motive – perhaps she was being attacked and acted in self-defence. This natural response of rushing to defend the seemingly weak or vulnerable calls to question the idea of justice in the death penalty; if one sanctions it because of an urge to revenge, then it cannot be used in a case where the law must have an even playing field devoid of emotion.

The use of colour here – depression green and cream or pale mustard ochre is because of the corridors in all US prisons where the death penalty is carried out. Also in the past the floor on the way to the chamber would be painted in a similar green; its uneven application a reminder of the decaying state of these institutions and at the same time the minds of those who blindly advocate such an action.

In the United States, a federal judge in Kentucky ruled that the Holy See is a foreign state that enjoys certain immunity protections. In the judge’s opinion these included protection for the Vatican against any claims arising from sexual abuse litigation. Another ruled in December 2005, that Pope Benedict XVI enjoys immunity as a head of state and removed him from a civil lawsuit accusing him of conspiracy to cover up sexual abuse by a seminarian.

The Vatican, that for centuries has told people on pain of eternal damnation how they should lead their sexual lives, now demands that the clerical abuses revealed over the last 30 years, should be forgiven and forgotten.

This collection of work is a window on the legacy. The incurable virus of self-loathing, guilt, fear and hatred; the damage from this seeping contaminate is amplified many-fold not only by the source of its origins, but by the secret society which has systematically covered it up for hundreds of years.

Statistics researched for this collection need not be listed. To numerate suffering does nothing to consider its horror.

If a God is all you have and that God’s vessel on earth is behind a secret society which only recently regards the actions of a percentage of its members as a ‘crime’ as well as a ‘sin’ - then the desolation of the aftermath is for all eternity.

Artist's note:
The framing here is to imply reclaimed wood from church pews. The austere look invokes the feeling in a bleak house of worship. It is a reminder to be humble in the face of greatness and power.

The natural linen canvas used has echoes of the sack cloth used in retreat or at times of penance and self-reflection; the discomfort of such material an irritant and reminder of who is in charge.

The use of gold peeled gold leaf is the decaying state of the Catholic Church in face of all the revelations coming to light in past years.

The scarlet paint it there as blood – the blood of Christ and the blood on the hands of the guilty. A stain that can never be erased or washed away.

‘Ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country’ Inaugural address of John F. Kennedy, Friday 20 January 1961.

JFK probably believed it.

In ‘Ammo, Smokes & Debbie Cakes’ the concept of patriotism is the main theme. When the idea that loving your country is interchangeable with and confusingly inextricably linked with loving your government, then in my mind, there is a problem.

There is nothing intrinsically wrong with loving your country and taking pride in your flag - so long as the idea of disagreeing with your government; because of how you are treated, is not interpreted as hating your country.

When a guy in a checkout line who has just been laid-off from his factory job, has no health insurance, no savings and no higher education, because he is a victim of circumstances which prevail as a result of government policies (either openly or by stealth), and he thinks he’ll be just fine because he has enough money left for ‘Ammo, Smokes & Debbie Cakes’, then we really do have a problem. This is compounded and made even worse when he himself regards anyone who questions the system of government in the land of the free as anti-American.

When Trailer parks were being built in the 50s and 60s and given names like ‘Shady Pines’ and ‘Valley View’, they were pitched as affordable and decent alternative housing with a built-in ‘community feel’. Cut-to a couple of decades later and we see that splendid isolation has resulted in your community being cut loose from the rest of society. If a criminal deviant who can’t be housed within 5 miles of a school happens to need to be ‘placed’ - then guess what? - Your ‘community park’ in the middle of nowhere will do just fine. (Antioch anyone?)

Put simply, the thread here is ‘choice’. Choice depends on the freedom to choose,and if you are shackled with debt, then you don’t have the freedom to choose. People in debt become hopeless and hopeless people don’t vote; if they did, there might be a revolutionary change. The government (your government) doesn’t want this to happen, so they must keep these people hopeless and pessimistic by control. 

This control is exercised through fear or demoralisation. An educated, healthy and confident nation is harder to govern.

So - if you believe it's okay to leave school, because you can’t afford to go to college; if you believe its okay to work 2 jobs at minimum wage instead of working 1 decently paid job; if you believe its okay that you have little or no rights while employed and at the end of your working life you may have to sell your home (if you are lucky enough to have one) to pay for your medical bills - because your health is in poor shape after years of cheap convenience food and bad working conditions - after all of this, if you believe it’s unpatriotic to question your government, then you are truly a success story for ‘the man’. The greatest smoke and mirrors trick of all time has been pulled off. 

The subjects in the series of drawings are ‘next-door’ girls - they also happen to be a product of this confidence trick. Their opportunities, options and choices are limited - not through any fault of their own. They are products of their environment as created by their elected government. You live in a free country you’re told. Your country exports its brand of democracy all over the world ‘for a small fee’. Of course,
it is ‘branded’ - because it isn’t really true to the definition of democracy when you examine its roots.

‘It all began with democracy. Before we had the vote, all the power was in the hands of rich people. If you had money, you could get health care, education, look after yourself when you were old. What democracy did was to give the poor the vote. It moved power from the market place to the polling station; from the wallet to the ballot.’ Tony Benn 2007.

Sound familiar? No, I didn’t think so. And so we come full circle - 
government versus country.

Ask not what you can do for your government, but what your government can (and should) do for you.

After all, you put them there.

Artist's note:
Choosing to do line drawings of the girls is to convey the feeling of transparency that the girls have no solidity. In the eyes of society, they are temporary and disposable. They are of scant worth or note; they come from the forgotten edges of life. The fact that they are victims of circumstance and birth, counts little or nothing in the eyes of those who are fortunate enough not to find themselves in the same position. They can be looked through without fears of guilt by those on the outside. The colours reflect the grey skies of today’s life. The pale pink echoes the frosting on so many donuts and cakes, laced with artificial chemicals to keep their consumer feeling sated and satisfied temporally while simultaneously poisoning their bodies and lives with cancer and false hope.

Once upon a time one could leave their door open wide, stray off the path and on occasion, accept kindness from a stranger. Not so. The reasons why fairy tales were written are as varied as the tales themselves. Whether they were written in order to dupe the public in the name of nationalism, or in some cases, simply the concoctions of an opium addled mind - they have remained cautionary tales through the centuries.

The modern tale of temptations, ignorance or misplaced trust leading to tragedy is a common one. Today’s world offers much ripe fruit just off the path, waiting to be plucked and consumed - consequences be dammed. With the saturation of information available to today’s young - one could ask how the message of caution seems as beyond reach or flatly ignored as it is. Like sacrificial lambs, the youth of the ‘Drink Me’ generation are the ‘Little Red Caps’ of today.

The artificial, idealised past concocted from hollow misplaced memories by the older generation - is simply that - a concoction - as fanciful, surreal and false as the fairy tales themselves. Dark deeds went unreported in family circles, in neighborhoods and in church meetings - unspoken tales of sadness. 

Stories with a wolf but rarely a prince that have only been told in the minds of the victims, read and re-read again and again, screamed or whispered in the dark - tales never to see the light or destined to be recited aloud.

As innocence or weakness will always be - alas the predator will remain.

Artist's note:
Only the titles of these works are notable here, they are the Latin names of the butterflies species found in the image. Again the butterfly imagery is there to show fragility, a short life of flighty and reckless wonderment, ultimately ending in an untimely demise. A presence of vibrant colour of nymph-like movement suddenly made dark and still.

‘The Five Points’, N. Y. 1880
‘Gin Alley’, London 1780

Place names consigned to history; but life for some, was then, as it is now.

This collection has been conceived to infect the viewer’s senses, by focusing on the lives of those girls whose options were limited to selling themselves for others pleasure. ‘A Return to Victorian Values?’ could easily have been the title of this series of works, had there been a time when society had been rid of this malaise.

Drawing upon sourced historical references (factual and literary), including ‘Harris’ List of Covent Garden Ladies’, this work explores the seamy underbelly of society and shows how little life in the city, has not changed for some over the centuries.

Citing New York and London as backdrops - we see work, although historical in its basis, is both uncomfortably familiar and tragically topical in its tale.

Polluted stagnant air seeps into every street and room and smile and pore. Greasy hands are shaken with corpse clammy insincerity and one-sided deals are agreed. The putrefying city is an unappetising stew - made up of the stench of bins in back alleys and the thoughts which lurk behind the portrait smiles of the suited-Joes on front streets.

Although ‘times’ have changed, the darkest recesses of the mind remain largely un-evolved. Those desires fed by repulsive greed and sexual depravity have always been there. It is possible in those times; they had more ready release, because the resulting acts were almost impossible to attribute to the guilty perpetrator. 

Prostitution and sexual slavery has existed in some form for as long as man has documented his own existence, and in the days of the 1880s as today, this will result in many missing persons and many more ‘Jane Does’.

The timeline of mans' outward achievements may be accelerating, but that of his dark subconscious is as determinedly and contentedly sluggish as it ever was.

Artist's note:
The box frames in this collection were carefully designed and handmade. They are a facsimile of display cases in the Victorian Era. Wealthy folk in those times travelled the world or went on the Grand Tour. On their return they would proudly show off their haul of artefacts and souvenirs. Entymology and botanical finds played a large part. These species could be displayed in glass cabinets or framed boxes in drawers. The frames in this case are there to enforce the idea that I see these girls as precious specimens - to be handled gently and with care. They are fragile and faded as so many butterfly wings.

They are there to be admired and marvelled at - in contrast to their actual lives and treatment they received at the hands of their captors. The collage panels are reminders of the bawdy house wallpapers and intentionally botanical chosen patterns. The background colour of sterile blue is there as a juxtaposition to the unsavoury conditions they found themselves in.

In the America of the 1930s & 40s new highways were being built, scything their way through boundaries, borders and state lines. They heralded a new era, a time of change. America was on the move, its people were going places - albeit within their own country.

Scattered alongside these, appeared all manner of motels, eateries, convenience stores and truck stops, to service its various travelers.

There were families going ‘out of state’ on their vacation; sales-men crossing country lines chasing that big deal which would secure them for life and there were truck-drivers keeping every thing supplied to every corner of the nation. There, of course, has always been too - the loner, the drifter, the hitchhiker and the runaway, but something has changed.

Once seen as beacons of light in the darkness, as the oasis in the wilderness - these places are now more like light houses, warning the travelers of the possible perils in the vicinity. But have these places changed, or is it rather that society has?

Although these places were originally meant as ‘stop offs’ on your way somewhere, they became something else - they became ‘the destination’.

They attracted those people who regarded these places as the end of the line. When a lone man queuing in a fast-food chain in some small town cracks and opens fire on the innocents around him, before killing himself, it is seen as a ‘cull’ rather than a killing. And when someone goes missing, and is last reported being seen at a gas station or
truck-stop diner, no one is the least surprised.

One Story
You remember the stained smile of the lady who served you, and called you ‘Miss’. You recall the sweet sticky smell of freshly brewed coffee, the tingling of your fingertips and the warmth in your palms as you cradled your cup. You remember the orangey red glow of the buzzing neon sign above you, lighting up the diner window, which cried on the inside with streams of condensation. Outside the dark, early winter, mid-western sky tumbled in, finishing the day prematurely. 

You remember thinking this warmth, these assurances and certainties, and the feelings they brought - these were the reasons you came to this place. That maybe the trip wouldn’t be so bad and your journey has taken a good turn. 

The sound beside you of someone shifting from foot to foot made you look up. You see the truck-driver touching the rim of his cap with his index finger and how he removed his glove before scratching and rubbing his chin, saying how he was going ‘clear across 2 states’ if you were headed that way’ and that he’d already paid for your coffee. 

You remember walking outside across the freezing parking lot and hearing the truck driver saying, over the noise of the frost crunching underfoot, that - you were doing him a favour by coming along - that his boss was clamping down on drug use among the drivers to stay awake, and that the conversation would do him good. You remember as he opened the door to the cab of his rig, that as you climbed in, he said from behind you that you reminded him of someone he knew.

And that’s it, there is no more. The final play has begun and you’re already in the endgame.

Sub-note:
Why gum?
'Lady Luck' gum is of course a fictitious brand, but it works as both an item and symbol to enforce the narrative of the series of works.

As a symbol, gum is among a select handful of products which scream ‘America’. In a world where a county’s level of development is directly proportional to its consumerism - America stands alone.

'Lady Luck' gum tells you to be optimistic and hopeful - chew it all day long and everything will work out just fine - the ultimate marketing ploy: offer the people a little hope with the product, charge a small amount for this feeling of well being and watch the profits roll in. If gum only gives your mouth something to do whilst your brain is not engaged - then the picture is complete. 

As an item within the context of my narrative, it acts as a lynch pin holding the story together and being the thing which connects the people and places. It is sold in the convenience stores, in the truck-stop vending machines and given complimentary in the motel foyers. It is in the pockets of the waitresses and the backpacks of the runaways and on the dashboards of the truck drivers - each one looking for a little bit of luck to help them on their journey; that is the ‘American Dream’.

Artist's note:
The combination of the distressed photos and painted images along with single line drawings are used to portray how one’s memory works when recalling an event - particularly one of trauma. The viewer remembers subliminal images, whereas the victim will remember by looking down on the event a an out of body experience. The colours are vivid, but the lines are blurred.

The scenes are typical motel, cafe and roadside views; plastic, artificial and repeated over and over. The diner could be anywhere, the table cloth anywhere. This is to underpin the idea that the traumatic event about to unfold could happen at any time in any location and that of the victim is as common and dispensable as so many plastic spoons or sugar sachets.

The colours in this collection are inspired by peeling plaster and paint in cheap motels, or the wall paper in so many lounge bars where no sees anything but the bottom of their glass.

News worthy? The criteria that makes any story news worthy is at best a questionable list and even when it attains this lofty title, the media can then decide how the story is told - semantics, censorship and sensationalism. Those ‘real’ human stories of people going missing that are lucky enough to make it to local news level; are often seen to have no place at a national level, unless they become something that has an even more spurious set of credentials, laid down by those in control of mass media and, as a consequence - the masses.


This set of works, although on the surface are unrelated, all fall under the umbrella of those stories worthy of news for the locals, but not for the masses - being either deemed not important enough or too important for the ‘ordinary people’ to know or begin to question.

The Good Book series of drawings is another look at the uneasy alliance of sex and religion (see Malice in Wonderland). On this occasion drawing from the statement ‘you can tell the ideals of a nation by its advertising’.

We see billboards that festoon the American landscape which sell religion like so much fast food, at so many convenience stores - with reduction of spirituality (regardless of its denominational origins) to yet another product of consumerism - combined with the fact that churches coffers all around the world are being emptied to pay for an avalanche of claims against them for abuse. The result we are left with in ‘The Good Book’ makes uneasy viewing. We see the door opened to a room which we do not want to look in - but cannot resist the temptation.

Artist's note:
Here the thrust is religion being sold as a commodity; something that can be advertised and sold like any other consumer product. Stack ‘em high and sell ‘em cheap has no place here however, the cost in this case is the ultimate currency. One must pay with one’s soul and as much of one’s love and faith as one can muster, the trade-off is guilt until the promise of salvation and entry to the Promised Land. In the meantime donate generously.

The colouring of this collection is meant to be insipid, as not to detract from the message of the gospel and remind the viewer that signs of ostentatious wealth and spending should be reserved for the teacher not the disciple.

“(Warren) Jeffs, 50, considered a prophet by his estimated 10,000 followers (The Church of the Latter Day Saints, FLDS), was jailed on warrants accusing him of sexual assault and other misconduct on minors in Arizona, and as an accomplice to rape in Utah.” 30 Aug. 2006.

‘What goes on in that place is nothing less than sexual slavery’ says Flora Jessop, the daughter of a polygamist (a member of FLDS) who as a teenager rejected her upbringing. ‘At 16, after I rebelled, I was given an alternative: a forced marriage or the mental asylum’, she claims ‘The local police and judges were in cahoots with the church’.

This series of work 'Malice in Wonderland' engages with the aspect of religious groups in the American Mid West Bible-belt that have elements of sexual subversion at the core of the leader’s authoritative ruling. Many sexual abuse cases over the world have been taken up against those who work under the ‘cover’ of the ‘church’, making out the abuse is in the direct service of God.

John Taylor, one of the Mormon Church’s earliest leaders - still the FLDS focal personage – married at least 33 women. ‘The youngest of these wives was just 14 when Joseph explained to her that God had commanded that she marry him or face eternal damnation’.

My work engages with the viewer in depicting young women as the enticement for men to be ‘drawn’ to God and works to highlight the hypocrisy of many religions in the way they treat young women/girls as sexual trade; or sanction sexual and human abuse by thwarting the law to bring these people to justice. Examples of this are readily seen across the world from various sects and denominations.

The text in the paintings is from quotes found on Churches and road signs across America. The churches seen depicted are also taken from across America showing the cross influence of colonial foundations of state religions.

The series 'Malice in Wonderland' hopes to bring to the forefront that it is not ultimately about religion, love or worship in the service of God, it is about the power they can excerpt over individuals and masses; and at times the sexual abuse they can get away with.

Source of quotes www.channel4.com/news/specialreports & www.apologeticsindex.org

Artist's note:
The recurring vinyl letters is all of these pieces are the main thing of note. Perhaps obviously, they are there to not only invoke an image of roadside hoardings and signage outside so many places worship in the bible belt and back woods of small town steeped in following precisely the teachings in the Old Testament. They are also there to drive home a message - depicted in a plain font, they are meant as an instruction or almost an order. They are there to be read and believed without question. They require a total unbending, unquestioning faith. As words requiring obedience however they are at odds with the sexualised images. If you do not question the words they you will be convinced that the actions by the clerics are not open to question either. Rather by blindly allowing abuse - one will be closer to thine god than thee.

Within this collection I am looking into the ‘American Dream’ and its unquestioning belief and hope; soullessly based upon the unfulfilled promise of adverts and illusions. When you grow up in America you are imbued from the earliest age with the understanding that America is the richest and most powerful nation on earth because God likes ‘them’ the best; that counties just don’t come any better. They are told that with a little good old fashioned hard work and a bit of luck things can be just as presented on TV.

However, this illusion is not as convincing to a growing percentage of people who know their escape from bitter reality seems impossible. Still, there are those who try for a better way of life, believing that they can escape the mind-numbing dreary uniformity of mid America; blighted by greed, pollution, mobile homes, poverty and television, that ultimately they will escape to a place where there must be more to life than the vast ground locked states which offer nothing of the ‘Promised Land’ that their President and cooperate advertising guarantees to deliver. Unfortunately for some, this journey of discovery and fulfillment does not always have a happy, or even an acceptable end.

'Missing: series 2' follows on with this notion of wanderlust and escape, of a road trip to paradise, of how those seeking a better life who are easily lead by the promises and stories of another; despite their desire not to be taken in and absorbed by them. Existing too in this world is the psychotic; also taken in by the myth that the importance of possessions and the acquisition of things are necessary. However, in this case it is the ultimate possession - that of another human being which becomes the desirable object. ‘Since this girl represents not a person, but an image, or something desirable, the last thing we would expect him to want, would be to personalize this person.’ S. Michaud (The Only Living Witness, 1983).

One Story: A handsome man walked up to Carol Da Ronch by the Cyclone ride in Coney Island. It was damp November evening in 1974 and the attractive 17 year old was gazing wide eyed at the twinkling and blurring lights of the funfair when the man approached and introduced himself.

Artist's note:
The context here is fairly self-explanatory. A series of still images of ‘normal’ life in America at an unspecified time, it could be the 1950s, it could be sometime in the future.

There is a slight aspirational quality to the house and area etc. but behind the closed doors, shadows in the forest, lyrics to a popular easy listening song or the words of DJ on a bible radio station, there is an element of foreboding.

These places, these sights, these sounds… what is not seen but felt only when it is too late for our killer’s victims.

As in the previous missing series the background colours reflect the environment where the incidents take place - but on this occasion they also echo manmade structures as well as natural ones, advertising hoardings, gate posts, concrete storage units etc.

Murder is terrifyingly easy in America. You can kill a stranger, dump the body in a place where it will never be found and be 2,000 miles away before the murdered person is even missed. At any given time there are an estimated twelve to fifteen serial murderers at large in the country, just drifting around, snatching random victims and then moving on, leaving behind few clues and no motives. Every year in America approximately 5,000 murders go unsolved. That is an incredible number.

Missing as a collective is about a journey, both actual and metaphorical. The ‘actual’ is that of our protagonist (unseen) and his quest to charm and lure his prey to their ultimate and untimely demise.

Theirs is also an ‘actual’ journey, from the centre of their world (and yet the centre of nothing and nowhere), to a land of dreams and promises, that becomes a journey into the mind of darkness and their iconographic ‘resting’ places; a truck, a trailer, a railway carriage and a disused gas station.

The ‘metaphorical’ journey is that into the imaginary psyche of an intelligent and charming serial killer, disillusioned with the moral and social decay that is ‘back state’ USA and also driven by his attraction and the simultaneous revulsion of his victims. ‘You’re not in Walt Whitman’s Kansas anymore’

It is a ‘metaphorical’ journey for the young girls also - from their closed off world of visions, beliefs and experiences into the reality of life: that which is on the surface is only a veneer of skin and light and noise - the rest is whatever you hope it is; but know it’s probably not.

Artist's note:
There are only 2 things to really point out here, firstly the composition. The organisation of the story in a series of squares and rectangles is really to reinforce the structure of the thoughts of our fictitious serial killer. I see him as an OCD and logical man. He lives his life in a series of carefully planned events based on a very set of decisions. There is nothing left to chance by this man. The content of these squares represent this man’s memory of the events leading up to the eventual and inevitable conclusion. They are a series of snap shot flash backs.

The other thing to mention is the background colour of each of the pieces - they are literally the elemental hues associated with each location, the colour of the rich grass, of clay soil, of peat bogs, of grey flat skies and rich copper tree barks.

The inclusion of Walt Whitman poetry is there to reinforce the thought that my imaginary killer is a learned man - perhaps a professor. He is a rich man able to travel freely from state to state, eluding his pursuers of evading justice. Added to this is the fact that Mr Whitman lived his life in secrecy and in denial of his own sexuality. Our perpetrator finds solace in ‘sharing his secret’ with this poet.