An article/rant/annotation to an illustration. A #Hackney bar and its flies.
This picture is not as sad and blue as it might at first seem, I promise.
It is early in the week and the pub becomes the territory of the most outspoken drinkers. Raised somewhere between Churchill and Harold MacMillan, a night such as this is time for them to spin out a yarn of nostalgic fantasy. Encouraged by the lack of a crowd and with space to fill, statements start to fly.
In the opening rounds the barman athletically hits back with factual blocks and reality-check haymakers; statistics and personal experiences are given. Two histories cross examined, one where 1982 means Thatcher and the Falklands, the other renders Reagan and the AIDS crisis. Stoicism and national pride vs mental health and realism.
In the latter rounds the barman is fatigued, swaying on the backbar, glasses begin to stack up as form begins to drop. The older men seem stronger than ever.
The barflies come in close now, they scrutinise his generations work ethic and make wild political comments on poverty, immigrants and the minimum wage.
The barman is close to sheer bloody despair, he maintains his defence and focuses on breathing while maintaining his professional stance.
But at the end of the night the barman knows HE will ring that bell, they will politely leave and they will return again in a week and maybe, just maybe there will be a change, common ground or maybe at least polite silence.
But what these interactions have given despite the salt in the eye is community and an exchange between generations, culture and class of those participating. No home is ever straight forward, no relative without their good and bad traits and in a world where we often slide into echo chambers online or in our physical environments, the pub is still a place where society is family, face to face, pint to pint. Or maybe it's just a room with alcohol on tap?
Drums R the best thing ever aint they!...having said that! that Lloyds tsb ad with the horses is good too! oh yeh and that girl who runs around in her underwear in that crappy soap opera thing yeh she's pretty neat too!....oh yeh...yeh!! and Steve McQueen he's bloody ace! but other than that Drums R the best aint they!?
Knights, the strongest faction in Nornwan. Known for their much vaunted military might. Without the sacrifices and bravery of the Knights, the lands would be overrun with Dragons, or bandits, or some other horrid force of darkness. The bastion of hope, despite all disagreements they have had with the Church and Wixard Factions.
I don't like sharing my art on platforms usually, so I'm using this space to kind of dip my toes in. I'm a digital artist, and I mostly draw feeling sketches when I'm in a dark headspace. This particular one is from a late night depressive episode.
Kevin Graham "Nivek Ogre" Ogilvie of electro-industrial band Skinny Puppy in one of his many stage costumes: the bloody Jackal. Honorably approved by Ogre himself. Prints for sale @ etsy.com/shop/DrawingsByLucia.
Mirror self-portrait a few Minutes after a brutal streetfight... I was bleeding heavily from a skull fracture, broken nose, multiple cuts already... to add Insult to Injury, I was scarred with a "Glasgow-smile" after I got beaten to a pulp... I felt the urge to capture my emotions (and inevitable bodily fluids...) on paper after I carried myself home and looked in the mirror.
