This is quite a ubiquitous scene, fresh garlands mainly of fragrant jasmine, marigold, rose and mango leaves, hang outside temples so the pious can buy them as offerings just as they enter.
"Perhaps one reason we are fascinated by cats is because such a small animal can contain so much independence, dignity, and freedom of spirit.
Unlike the dog, the cat's personality is never bet on a human's. He demands acceptance on his own terms."
- Lloyd Alexander
Materials - Alchohol-based Markers, White Gel Pen and Black ink pens
A weird little project i started a while ago. All pictures are based on, more or less, drawings from my childhood. Hence the childish style and story. I'm not going insane, so you know, yet...
I drew this for my sons bedroom wall, it’s inspired by the Beatles yellow submarine and includes an all seeing eye in keeping with the surreal nature of the 70s animation.
Winter strikes Stoke Newington and the scarves come out along Church Street. Pops of colour and man's best friend help get us through the most trying of seasons
Bun in Space, I forgot to add the stars. I see so many completely finished drawings and paintings on this site. I am not sure if it's for doodles and sketches or for finished pieces. It's confusing.
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?
