Archive for May, 2013

My best friend.

My best friend.

A few months ago I asked Mark Leggett if saying he was from New Zealand was meant as a joke. His answer was ‘No.’
Then I asked him if he would mind if I draw comic strips based on the tweets from his twitter account @markleggett . He said go for it, as long as I credit it to him. Fair deal I thought. I had not gotten around to drawing one when a couple of weeks later I fell in love. The object of my affection demanded, once she got to know me and my art work, that I draw everyday. Fair deal I thought, since I should be anyway, as long as my job as an inducing servant doesn’t get in the way.
I’d been following mark for awhile before I went to his page and read his wall of past tweets and found myself in pain from laughter! Partially because I was on my back in bed looking up at an iPad. Your neck can get really saw after awhile and if you find yourself laughing a lot you can really hurt your throat.
After trawling through a large cross section of his writing, I picked out three that I really liked. (In hindsight, the three that I chose were more sentimental, then strictly funny.) Once I finally had a day off, I gathered together a note pad and pens and walked down the street to a cafe so I could feel like I was Jean Paul Sartre or Vincent Van Gogh or Hitler. I looked around for a good cafe that wasn’t too busy. That I might be able to sit at for hours and have no one notice me. I walked passed a cafe at the top end of the shopping district (old lady clothes shops) a cafe that was empty and I knew well. The cafe was under new management. It always is, every year or so. The cafe, a few owners ago, was involved in a bullying scandal. The site, the venue, the premises has never lost the stigma of this event. Until now I also had refused to eat there. But this day I looked at it and thought, no that’s just borderline superstition. I ordered some food and coffee and started to sketch out thumbnails for the three very different pieces of writings I had chosen. In front of me a few people started crowding around the road and a women rushed hurriedly out of a shop. I walked up to where they were to see what was going on. A very old lady was lying on the road half convulsing with five or so people crowded around her looking like they had no idea what to do. A lady with a pram moved out onto the road to block the oncoming traffic and direct them to go around (using her pram) while another man was on a phone calling an ambulance. Eventually an ambulance would turn up and so would the police. When I saw the police taking a mans statement, it became clear that he had reversed, while parked, back into her. I’m not superstitious so I read nothing into this at all and don’t feel any guilt for eating somewhere I said I never would to myself.
After four coffees and a meatball platter later I had one of the strips almost finished. ‘While I’m away at work, my cat listens to the mix tape I made for her.’ I drew a very simple cartoon cat, wearing headphones and looking a bit perplexed. I was thinking of drawing a real cat but this simple drawing seemed to fit the writing.
The idea of drawing comic strip panels based on someone’s tweets seems to work for me. Twitter is a hot bed of language design and to give a small piece of writing a visual aesthetic will stamp it with its own territory. So many people hate twitter but really they just have no idea what it is.


Pug Puppy Pilots.

Pug Puppy Pilots.

Based on the words of Mark Leggett.



Based on the words of Mark Leggett.

Give me excess.

Give me excess.


Occupied by the Queen.

Our occupy movements infancy coincidently coincided with the arrival of the queen. Arguably the true 1%er. They were moved out with quite brutal force. The likes of which not seen in the city for awhile before and probably never for a peace protest. If they weren’t arrested the protesters were put on a bus, had their possessions confiscated and were driven out of the city and dumped. Leaving them to find their own way home. After three weeks of camping out in the inner city a good brisk walk could probably do them well the authority’s may have thought. The bureaucracy was palpable.

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