ewieblogs

A very short list

2011-05-09T12:06:00.006+01:00

Works of Fiction with Characters Named 'Ewan'
To set our house in order, Margaret Laurence, short story, CAN, 1964 ['Ewen MacLeod]
A remarkably civilised arrangement, Peter Robins, short story, UK, collected 1982 ['Ewan']
Sunset Song, Lewis Grassic Gibbon, novel, SCO, 1932 ['Ewan Tavendale Snr.', 'Ewan Tavendale Jnr.']

That's it.

Blimey ...

2011-03-28T11:12:00.003+01:00

... it's over a year since I posted anything here. Anyone would think I was dead or something.

Marco (in a minty-violet) Blaze

2011-03-28T11:08:00.001+01:00

Marco (in a minty-violet) Blaze; February 2011; gouache; 18 x 28cm

Melancholia 18

2011-03-28T11:06:00.002+01:00

Melancholia 18; February 2011; gouache; 23 x 18.5cm

Even the greatest stars

2011-03-28T11:05:00.001+01:00

Even the greatest stars; March 2011; gouache; 20 x 28cm

Rapture in violet

2011-03-28T11:02:00.001+01:00

Rapture in violet; March 2011; gouache; 28 x 18.5cm

Etiquette

2010-03-08T08:00:00.002Z

Alan might be a while coming back to the car, I thought; I'd best find some way of entertaining myself for a bit.
I'd barely set foot inside the catacombs (not what you'd expect to find in a municipal park in Dewsbury, no, but then Victorian ingenuity has committed far worse atrocities elsewhere) when, pausing at a junction to decide which passage to take, a man appeared beside me from the shadows.
'I don't suppose you fancy a blow job,' he asked hopefully and without preamble.
Well, it was a gay porn kind of day so the question didn't strike any wrong notes.
'No, not really,' I said, hoping my directness wouldn't hurt his feelings.
'Ah well,' he said, looking, indeed, a little crestfallen.
'On any other day I might've said yes,' I explained, trying to wriggle myself free of an embarrassing social situation. 'Why?' I asked in afterthought, 'what are you offering?'
He was wearing, I noticed, an old-fashioned slate-blue cotton tracksuit a couple of sizes too big for him, just the kind of garment worn by men who hang around catacombs looking for sex. He now unzipped the top with his right hand while pulling down the front of the trousers with his left.
He was ~ for a park pervert ~ not at all badly put together under his 'trackie'. I'd put his age at about 45 but he was well-preserved and fairly athletic; there was a rather endearing tuft of hair growing between the two halves of his chest; his cock was in the first stages of tumefaction, quite thick, of the type called 'sausage roll', and mercifully uncircumcised (I have a habit of wincing audibly at the sight of a circumcised penis). He waved it at me a couple of times ~ without much conviction, I thought.
Half of me was just about to change its mind about the offer when the other half said, 'To be honest, I'm not in the habit of paying for sex.'
He gave his knob another joggle and grinned.
'Well, to be honest back,' he said, 'I was actually thinking of paying you, if anything.'
'Oh how embarrassing!' I laughed. I'm still not sure who the blunder was most embarrassing for, mind you.
At the sound of voices from outside the entrance to the catacombs he put his three-pack back in his kecks. It was just a bunch of trippers, who soon passed. Maybe there was more than one entrance.
'My partner'll be back soon,' I began, suddenly struck by an inspiration; 'Maybe he'll be in the mood to do something for you.'
'Great,' he said, with genuine enthusiasm.
Did I mention that he had, in perfect proportion to the rest of him, the head of a ginger tomcat, complete with collar in violet velvet (it even had a little bell on!) to hide that difficult join? Well he did.
While we waited for Alan we tried to fill the time with smalltalk, but believe me, it's not easy to make smalltalk with someone who's supposed to be and remain a stranger. So the conversation was pretty desultory and more than once I caught myself wondering out loud what had become of my partner ~ he was only visiting an elderly lady of his acquaintance (he never could say no when old ladies pressed cake on him). So we picked away at neutral subjects (the weather, the catacombs, grocery prices, that kind of thing) for ten minutes. A few times he would flop his tackle back out of his kecks and have a quick fumble, perhaps to show that despite appearances to the contrary he hadn't lost sight of his main objective of the afternoon. That knob was, I freely admit, starting to look increasingly appetizing, but I was damned if I was going to have Alan come back and find me chowing down on it. That would be such bad manners, to start without him. I even contemplated, at one stage, suggesting we go to the pond and throw some bread at the unhungry ducks to pass the time, but then thought better of it: he might send the birds into such a panic that they actually moved.
Afterwards, when it was all over, when the three of us had squeezed out our last remaining drops of pleasure, when he'd picked up his tracksuit top from the puddle it had been lying in and zipped it up for the final time, when we'd each frisked ourselves to make sure we still had our wallets, when we'd shaken hands and sent him on his way, off home for his tea, or to make 'love' to his wife, or entertain his kids by chasing a ball of wool up and down the living-room floor ~ afterwards I said to Alan in the car, 'What on earth kept you? ~ I thought you'd fallen down a hole or something. Still, I'm glad you came back when you did: I was running dangerously low on smalltalk ~ there's only so much mileage you can get out of the price of canned soup.'
We drove in silence for five minutes.
'Nice chap: nice manners,' said Alan reflectively.
Another five minutes passed like a dream.
'Sharp teeth, though,' I said; 'He's given me a nasty nick to the nuts.'

16/11/09

Pink daydream

2010-02-17T09:18:00.001Z

Gouache on Murano paper; 20 x 23cm; December 2009; £50

Cyan sunbather

2010-02-17T09:16:00.001Z

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 27 x 34cm; January 2010; £85

New words you won't find in a dictionary* (1)

2009-12-30T18:17:00.002Z

Impoovement: n. the act of turning a straight man into a gay man

*Though you'll find plenty of examples on th'internet, thanks to illiterate folk who can't spell improvement

Pink glare

2009-12-25T07:33:00.001Z

Gouache on acrylic paper; 19 x 24cm; November 2009; £45

Not really what I meant when I said 'a duel'

2009-12-24T07:58:00.001Z

Gouache on acrylic paper; 28.5 x 18cm; July 2009; £35

Fur 3

2009-10-30T18:17:00.001Z

Pastels on pastel paper; 16 x 22cm; September 2009; £40 [window-mounted]

Daniel (green)

2009-10-30T18:14:00.001Z

Gouache and watercolour on cardboard; 43.5 x 39.5cm; September 2009; £85

Men will be men

2009-09-21T10:21:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 33 x 24cm; June 2009; £60

Melancholia 17

2009-09-21T10:19:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 19 x 27cm; August 2009; £45

Love in cyan

2009-09-21T10:17:00.001+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 38 x 23cm; August 2009; £75

Love in brilliant blue

2009-09-21T10:14:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 19 x 26cm; August 2009; £45

A kind of love

2009-09-20T19:56:00.001+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 19 x 24.5cm; May 2009; £45

Joy of onanism, shared

2009-09-20T19:53:00.001+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 24 x 38cm; August 2009; £100

It's in his kiss

2009-09-20T19:51:00.001+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 26.5 x 18cm; August 2009; £45

Icon 9 (Hot stuff)

2009-09-20T19:48:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 18.5 x 26.5cm; May 2009; £50

Green fag

2009-09-20T19:42:00.005+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 25.5 x 19cm; July 2009; £50

A friendly game of Hide the Sausage

2009-09-20T19:40:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 38 x 23cm; September 2009; £85

Fabulous faces (6/6)

2009-09-20T19:37:00.002+01:00

Gouache on craftboard; 15 x 20.5cm; September 2009; £45

Fabulous faces (2/6)

2009-09-20T19:35:00.001+01:00

Gouache on craftboard; 15 x 20.5cm; May 2009; £45

Fabulous faces (1/6)

2009-09-20T19:33:00.002+01:00

Gouache on craftboard; 15 x 20.5cm; May 2009; £45

The best things in life are cheap

2009-09-20T19:26:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 29 x 37.5cm; August 2009; £70

A battenburgy kind of day

2009-09-20T19:22:00.004+01:00

Gouache on (erm) Murano (?) paper; 19 x 25cm; May 2009
Battenburg is a yellow-and-pink cake I can eat by the lorryload ...

At long last love (Megamix)

2009-09-20T19:20:00.002+01:00

Gouache on cardboard; 43 x 48.5cm; August 2009; £100.
Yes, I know, I keep painting this over and over again: this is something like version number 6 of these chappies.

El amor en los tiempos de la escarlatina (Love in the time of scarlet fever)

2009-09-20T19:18:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 27.5 x 19cm; July 2009; £60

American friends

2009-09-20T19:17:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 22 x 19cm; June 2009; £50

Up there from down here

2009-09-20T19:12:00.001+01:00

Gouache and watercolour on paper; 32 x 23cm; April 2009; £50

UBS2

2009-09-20T19:10:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 19 x 24.5cm; July 2009; £45

Snoggage

2009-09-20T19:07:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 27.5 x 19.5cm; September 2009; £45

Rugbyman mon cul!

2009-09-20T16:56:00.001+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 19.5 x 25.5; July 2009; £45
See The devil wears plaid below for alternative version

A pretty man 4 (eye detail, acrylic)

2009-09-20T16:48:00.002+01:00

Acrylic on stretched (box) canvas; 25.5 x 20.5cm; May 2009; £45

Naked in red

2009-09-20T16:40:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 22 x 19cm; July 2009; £45

Gentlemen in lavender, lilac, violet and rose

2009-08-02T23:38:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 19 x 24cm; July 2009; £50

Love in black and white

2009-08-02T23:26:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 230gsm paper; 23 x 27.5cm; June 2009; £50

E-cards (free! yay!)

2009-07-31T13:55:00.002+01:00

I've completely forgotten to mention that quite a lot of my pictures can now be sent as free e-cards from here.

Me and Danny in the surf at Laggan

2009-07-22T16:27:00.002+01:00

This is one of my own all-time favourite prose poems, from May 1988 ~ I hope you like it!
Me and Danny in the surf at Laggan, July in Scotland, the unique combined smell of sand, sea, heather; above us the sky enormous as a country, the clouds vast and orange with sunset; on the horizon tiny islands cluster, floating on the silver plate of the sea; Danny's thirteen, so am I; the pair of us covered from head to toe in cold shiny Atlantic; I fall over backwards and take a mouthful, looking up I see the enormous sky and Danny, I'm acutely in love with him; he laughs back at me as a wave breaks over our shoulders; not another living creature in sight, not even a gull, the air bright and warm, it's summer, we're children, yes; and later, back at home, Danny's mum will give us each a cup of black peaty tea, we'll watch the tv and go to bed.
Later still I'll be twenty-three, another summer and my feet cold because in the intervening decade I've grown fat and my circulation's not what it was then; this morning I thought of Danny, perhaps it was a dream, I'm not sure, and I remembered that at thirteen he used to do twenty press-ups every night before bed, and I used to watch his strong wiry body rising and sinking; I recalled that large ocean and those two boys laughing almost naked in it; I remember everything but his face; I wish I could've been forever thirteen and yes, I still wish for Danny too.
I'm thirteen and wish I could be thirteen forever, Danny too; and I wish we could be forever here, just the two of us and the enormous sky and the clusters of tiny islands and the soft Atlantic, almost naked, together, laughing at nothing.

Another Mike

2009-07-22T16:05:00.003+01:00

Here's another prose poem I've just dug up, this one from September 1989. The 'Mike' in this one is a completely different one from the 'Mike' in Aloofly lucking boy.
When I came into the room I thought I saw Mike sitting naked on my lonely single bed; his body seemed to fill it; he was large ~ it often surprises me just how large big men are, a lot bigger than me, though not a great deal taller; and there was an extraordinary thickness and density to his trunk and limbs, even to his head; as he sat there propped up on a hill of pillows, arms outstretched to hang over the sides of the bed, left leg raised and screening his private collection, I marvelled at how much he resembled something fashioned entirely from soapstone; as is often the case among men of his age (42), his skin was of the kind that could make an entire life's study: in places strangely dark and smooth like old trousers, occasionally of a standard texture and tint, and here and there mysteriously coarse and light ~ in short, a skin which looks as though it has been places, done things, and then come home to settle down; his body hair too was typically post-forty: disproportionately profuse at all points north of the gracilis, and spare below: from the chest downwards becoming ever less grey until at the ankles it's almost blond: at the clavicle as thick and wiry as raw wool, on the calves and shins as fine as mink; he was watching me looking at him ~ was that a come-hither look in his eye?; Mike is the kind of man with whom an astonishing variety of perfectly ordinary human beings of all ages, sexes, sizes, types, are wont to fall absymally in love: he is a 'fine figure of a man' though slightly beyond his prime: big, beefy, burly, brawny, call it what you will, he has the physique of a bouncer and the charm of a 1930s film star, a Clark Gable or Herbert Marshall; his manners are excellent, his humour gentle, his savoir-faire impeccable; naturally enough I'm in love with him too; as I drew nearer the bed he seemed to grow bigger and bigger until, at last, when I sat down beside him and could smell the smell of his body (grubby: delicious), he filled the whole of my field of vision: whichever way I may now turn, there he will be, huge, massive, his wide hairy chest as beautiful as a moorhen's plaintive solitary soul; he lowers his knee and there is revealed his collection, what some wag or other calls 'meat and two veg'; merciful heavens!; the most consistenly wonderful thing about the vast majority of Englishmen is that no matter how one might conjecture as to the nature of their most intimate appointments, one can never be entirely sure of anything (there's nothing more unsurprising than a Jewish gent): a large building may be crammed to the roof with tiny rooms, the roots of an insignificant and furthermore dead tree may stretch all around for miles; Mike had beautiful balls and a beautiful unmutilated cock, which latter now began to move, the way only these things do: a couple of lazy nods and then a gradual 180° turn from six o'clock to noon, becoming ever more handsome on the way, opening like a peony bloom, until at last its broad glossy face peered down into the mirror of his navel; and then, softly in the booming silence, with his eyes on mine and mine on his, and meaningful smiles all round, I laid my fingers on it. As I say, when I came into the room I thought I saw Mike sitting naked on my bed; but I didn't; and I never will.

Purple 2

2009-06-08T14:56:00.002+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 35.5 x 45.5cm; May 2006; £60 [frame available]

A pretty man 3 (acrylic version)

2009-06-08T14:51:00.002+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 29.5 x 22.5cm; May 2009; £50
A very 'texturey' painting

Jurgen

2009-06-08T14:46:00.002+01:00

Graphite on paper; 16 x 21.5cm; May 2004

Moody blue

2009-06-08T14:44:00.002+01:00

Pastels and charcoal on paper; 23 x 18.5cm; August 2004

Oi!

2009-06-08T14:42:00.002+01:00

Gouache on card; 19.5 x 27cm; March 2007; £50 [mounted]

April showers

2009-06-08T14:40:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 24 x 32cm; October 2008; £13

Icon 5

2009-06-08T14:09:00.002+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 25.5 x 30.5cm; September 2007; £60

Poetry without motion 1

2009-05-12T15:30:00.004+01:00

Gouache on card; 17.5 x 28cm; November 2006; £35

Flammability testing

2009-05-12T15:28:00.004+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 28 x 38.5cm; May 2009; £65

Please explain

2009-04-22T12:49:00.003+01:00

Though I've always been acutely, idiotically, all-consumingly, unashamedly, pathologically obsessed with masculine beauty, relationships between its exemplars and myself have not always been the happiest.

see below ...

Writing (2): Mike, aloofly lucking boy

2009-04-22T12:36:00.004+01:00

Here's another unearthed prose poem, this one from January 1984, chock-full of 'glorious' punning. The Mike in question was a lad I used to see regularly at the Faversham pub in Leeds, who I was on nodding acquaintance with ...

Is Mike aloof? is Mike really so aloof that even I, a wretched nothing, who's not listening especially hard but still can hear the large world splattered and squirming about his carved alabastrine ankles, couldn't care?
Aye, he's absolutely the aloofest guy that ever was.
There he is on the other side of this here eternal night-out, in his own little private pocket of air, while the rest of this batch of humanity's plastered like Brylcreemed hair down and round and about him at one end. Yes, the room's just super-full of superfluous us.
Thinks Mike. And then Mike thinks again, which makes him hungry, so he buys a bag of crisps, and slow-eats them both momentous- and meaningfully and they (the crisps, that, of course, is) appear to blush a paler shade of potato as they sight and touch on his horribly wonderul lips which are as two dozing caterpillars, and squeal sharply, precariously overdoing their unique death: Look who's eating us, they cry, through invisible interpreter.
Ah to be a crisp; (caught in that throat).
Hey Mike, listen down, news is just coming through that the government fell today and that there's a Marxist-and-or-Leninist revolution going off out there; hey Mike, conclusive evidence has just been unearthed that after all's said and done things do happen outside you.
And not just us, not just super-full-o'you-us.
I (what the hell is all this I business anyway?) sorry me was wondering, Mike, are you really so fucking aloofly lucking that you can't see my pen is in your eye?

Sad, lonely 2

2009-04-19T17:56:00.003+01:00

Pastels on pastel paper; 20 x 28cm; August 2005; £35

Ultramonty

2009-04-19T17:45:00.004+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 25 x 30cm; October 2007; £75
It's that man again ~ Montgomery Clift

Cheeky

2009-04-16T11:28:00.003+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 80 x 60cm; June 2006; £150 [frame available]

Copper flex

2009-04-16T11:25:00.001+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 60 x 80cm; November 2007; £150 [frame available]
Geddit?

December

2009-04-16T11:20:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 22.5 x 33cm; March 2008; £55

Dinner

2009-04-16T11:19:00.003+01:00

Graphite on paper; 17.5 x 25cm; June 2004

Don't let this come between us (Crap pun no.93)

2009-04-16T11:18:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 23 x 30cm; March 2008; £55

Don't look at me either

2009-04-16T11:17:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 24 x 32cm; August 2007; £60

Fred from Jupiter 1

2009-04-16T11:11:00.003+01:00

Pastels on pastel paper; 20 x 25cm; January 2007

Fur 1

2009-04-16T11:10:00.003+01:00

Graphite on paper; 19 x 28cm; October 2005

Fused by light and love

2009-04-16T11:07:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 400gsm paper; 26.5 x 35.5cm; July 2008; £55

His heart on his ... erm ... sleeve

2009-04-16T11:02:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 23.5 x 33cm; August 2008; £60

Hulk on his jollies somewhere nice

2009-04-16T10:59:00.003+01:00

Gouache and watercolour on 300gsm paper; 23.5 x 31cm; August 2008; £50
And now for the Hulk section ...

The Hulk's little brother

2009-04-16T10:58:00.003+01:00

Pastels and charcoal on paper; 17 x 25.5cm; August 2004

The Hulk's second cousin from Tunbridge Wells

2009-04-16T10:52:00.004+01:00

Pastels on card; 18.5 x 26cm; January 2007

I am smoking a fag

2009-04-15T12:18:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 23 x 33cm; July 2007; £60
Don't forget, folks: smoking is bad for you, apparently

Icon 8 (And God created man)

2009-04-15T12:14:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 23.5 x 32cm; October 2008; £70

In the inky dark

2009-04-15T12:12:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 23 x 32.5cm; April 2008; £65

In the inky dark (more light version)

2009-04-15T12:10:00.002+01:00

Gouache on cardboard; 43.5 x 59.5cm; July 2008; £100
Much bigger than my average gouache

The kid ain't heavy

2009-04-15T12:08:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 24 x 33.5cm; October 2008; £50
Quite a daft picture. See also American friends above

Love 40

2009-04-15T12:04:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 32.5 x 22cm; May 2007; £60

Ma gent

2009-04-15T11:57:00.004+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 40 x 30" (101 x 76cm); December 2006; £175
The 'ma gent' of the title is short for 'magenta', the pink I used for this picture; it's also pseudo-French for 'my kind of people' (sort of)

Metallopath

2009-04-15T11:55:00.003+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 25 x 30cm; October 2007; £70

Moody pink

2009-04-15T11:50:00.004+01:00

Graphite on paper; 19 x 28cm; May 2006

Mullion man

2009-04-15T11:43:00.003+01:00

Acrylic on cardboard; 45 x 58cm; February 2008; £85
An alternative, more garish version of Sepiatones 2 below

Narcissus before the fall

2009-04-15T11:39:00.003+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 76 x 101cm (30 x 40"); August 2006; £175

A new slant

2009-04-15T11:33:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 400gsm paper; 29 x 42cm; July 2008; £75

Next time ...

2009-04-15T11:28:00.003+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 30.5 x 41cm; November 2007; £70 [frame available]
The full title is actually Next time ... (I'll break every bone in your body) ... yeah, pretty.

A nice day for a wank

2009-04-15T11:25:00.002+01:00

Gouache on card; 17.5 x 25cm; November 2006; £45
Yes, I know, the title leaves something to be desired

Nostalgia 3 (Sepiatones 3)

2009-04-15T11:21:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 33.5 x 23.5cm; July 2007; £65
See also A thing of beauty below

Poetry without motion 2

2009-04-15T11:18:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 23.5 x 33cm; July 2007; £60

Puppy 8

2009-04-15T11:13:00.004+01:00

Pastels on pastel paper; 21.5 x 28cm; December 2005

Rain

2009-04-15T11:02:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 23.5 x 33cm; March 2008; £55

Rather a bad time for an alien abduction 3

2009-04-15T11:00:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 22.5 x 32cm; July 2008; £50

Red black man

2009-04-15T10:58:00.004+01:00

Gouache and watercolour on cardboard; 60 x 48cm; 1983 [!!!!]; £80
A very early surviving picture, recently unearthed

Red hunk, green hunk

2009-04-15T10:56:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 31 x 23.5cm; October 2008; £60

Red meat 3

2009-04-15T10:52:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 21.5 x 33cm; June 2007; £55

Revelation

2009-04-15T10:49:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 23 x 31cm; September 2007; £50
I must confess this one didn't turn out looking like this entirely deliberately ...

Rock lobster

2009-04-15T10:26:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 23.5 x 32cm; August 2008; £50
One of a few versions of this head I've done.
'Rock lobster' is one of my favourite songs by The B-52's, by the way.

Sad sunbather (Hot version)

2009-04-14T10:53:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 23.5 x 30cm; May 2007; £50

Santagogo

2009-04-14T10:49:00.003+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 51 x 76cm; November 2007; £150
I painted this specially for my second exhibition in December 2007 ~ I'm not in the habit of doing 'Christmas pictures' ...

Self-portrait ("Don't worry ~ none of this is real")

2009-04-14T10:45:00.004+01:00

Acrylic on stretched canvas; 76 x 101cm (30 x 40"); November 2007; £150
Of course the 'joke' here is that I'm the 'real' blob in the mirror painting the cardboard cutout chap on the cardboard cutout bed in the cardboard cutout room in front of me. Or something like that, anyway. I didn't say it was a good joke, did I?

Sepiatones 2

2009-04-14T10:42:00.002+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 23 x 33cm; June 2007; £90
Completed while I was on holiday in Greece, on my 43rd birthday
See Mullion man above for an alternative rendering of this picture

Seren(dip)ity

2009-04-14T10:34:00.003+01:00

Gouache on 300gsm paper; 31.5 x 23cm; August 2007; £60

Serious sunbather

2009-04-14T10:31:00.002+01:00

Graphite on paper; 25 x 28.5cm; 1990; £55
Technically unfinished, this picture sat folded in a drawer for fifteen years or so before I 'rediscovered' it one day

So far and no further

2009-04-14T10:29:00.003+01:00

Pastels on pastel paper; 29 x 20cm; September 2005
Ruder than it looks ...