Wednesday, 23 September 2009


What followed my trip to Glasgow was uneventful and embarrassing. I was penniless after that night and now had no art to my name.  Debt was spiraling uncontrollably.
It was the art  though that meant most to me. If you think about Voodoo. That work was very similar. It is as though I purged any negative thought or grief and trapped it in there. But without any of it to my name apart from a fucking 19ft albatross skeleton which is still literally hanging around my neck, I began to fall. When faced with a problem, many people drive themselves forward. They do not accept defeat, they fight. I brooded. A rare piece of work from this time.

At Least We Caught Something

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