Tag Archive: Comix


A white line of immaculate silence. A broken feeling of freedom. A collective dream that strikes on a raining night. It passes because people all forget. The streets are flooded and the floorboards are rotting away. The satellites scan the underpass for intruders. The earth shakes. I took six months off work and lived off of my savings to construct pages. Breaking my life up into an hour on and a half an hour out. Smoke a coffee, drink a cigarette. The rebellion rages outside the plastic window. The ash cloud covers the mountains and the book inside is full of lies. An isolated work of art. To say something. To say anything at all. Of memories well forgot and shaped by shifting signs. It all seems so dark and heavy. I still remember drawing on teletype paper and on the back of old work forms that my mother brought home. I’ve had time to build a mental bomb but I must drop ink on everything. For what can be seen as a disposable medium I hold close to my eye like a pearl. Sprawled across walls I can see where my mind has been because for too long it has been hidden in a box. I’m teaching myself, not others. I’m learning what I need to know. I won’t leave my chair. I won’t leave this room. I never could, transfixed with a vendetta to create. When I was seven I took a drawing my older brother had thrown in the bin and finished it off, took it to school and passed it off as entirely my own work. The teacher had her daughter come to the school to see my drawing. Her daughter who was and still is a well known conceptual artist. I can never know what it must have looked like but then and there I began my first art crime and as I remember it…It was a perfect crime. I’ve worked mostly on structure and line. A direction to construct. I can hash out an idea in dot points or expound upon a thumbnail. I photocopy down drawings and juxtapose ideas condensing a coded manifesto into a page. Ideas that sing and harmonise with each other. Lets drink in old ideas and open our eyes to a vision that will silence. A total reinvention of madness and crime. The way we take the world in and the way in which we challenge it. The sound of static and the smell of mould. Typewriters and teak drawing boards. Scalpels and steel rulers. I once threw my pens away.. on the street.. hours later I went back to find them still there on the street…but broken. This is not pain.. It’s vision.


Three Monkeys.


Reworking Picasso’s Guernica.


“The horrors of war managed with the weapons of technique.” Wilhelm Boeck

On the 26th of April 1937, German bombers,on behalf of general Franco’s army, bombed the small Basque city of Guernica. The town was undefended and sheltered only civilians well behind the battle-front. The bombardment lasted for three hours and the destruction was almost total.
Early in 1936 Pablo Picasso had been invited by the spanish republican Government to produce a mural for the Spanish pavilion at the Paris World Fair to open in June 1937. Picasso began preparatory sketches for Guernica on May the 1st. The twenty five foot long painting was completed within a month.
Guernica, to me, seems to be a “Fuck You” to the seriousness of war. The big serious adult world of war. A topic that’s expected to be talked about in serious and revered terms not bombastic or absurd terms. Hatred is fine because that feeds the war machine but mocking the whole idea of war is insulting. You’re expected to choose a side. I think Guernica points out that war is an absurd joke.
The influence of Guernica on my work over the years is telling. I can see it in the Gods eyes that I’ve used in the top centre of drawings or the screaming mouths my characters have and in the stoic ways they stand.
In someways I see Picasso as the first great cartoonist. His influence on animation and cartoonists in general is immeasurable. I see Guernica’s influence on John Lennon and Banksy. For someone that great to come along and say, with his art, that it’s alright to draw badly completely breaks down the conventions of image making. Because at the end of the day drawing badly is better drawing then not drawing at all. I find it funny when I meet people who think Picasso couldn’t draw.

Portrait of liz.


A self portrait.



psychodelic navaho

Pug Puppy Pilots.

Pug Puppy Pilots.

Based on the words of Mark Leggett.

Stand about weed.

Stand about weed.

Alright this character is a bit of a smart ass. What choice does he have. He fucks with people’s perception every day and yet, like Freud, he solves people’s problems therapeutically. He’s angry and conflicted. He’s also an entertainer at the end of the day. He should be a star. This drawing is based on the calendar art idea of an image…I guess. “What are you doing right now?” That alcoholic concept of get drunk, get as drunk as you can and then get even drunker that carries over to ,what should be an art form of, pot smoking. This drawing is quite clearly a rough for what could be. The character as an icon. A mascot. A symbol.

Walkabout Weed.

Walkabout Weed.

I created this character about ten years ago. In many ways he was inspired by the dancing flowers out of fantasia. I see him as the most iconic pop character I have in my arsenal. It’s only in the last year that I’ve actually found another cartoon weed. A one off sixties comix strip about a weed on the run. In reality the character sits with fat Freddy and the furry freak brothers and fritz the cat. Maybe no one else has created such a character because there’s no commercial grounds for such a character, because the sale of weed is all underground. I guess that’s pretty sad really. Everything else has been turned into a cartoon character. I’m always amazed that the maraijuana leaf hasn’t. He’s actually quite hard to draw properly and story lines are both limitless and limited. If that’s possible. I’m working on a free form animation with the character at the moment. As I said, I created the character ten years ago and all I really have to show for it is many many poses, one full page and a few small strips. This character doesn’t flow from the pen unfortunately.

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