Here’s drawing I did many years ago and it’s the bottom half of a poster, this version with all the rough bits straight from the artwork, no digital messings here. I sometimes look back at work done in the past and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up with embarrassment at what I produced ( and charged good money for, in those days the money was good! ). I must have had a brass neck. This is an exception but in this case the client was myself, it was for my own promotional poster and was eventually printed silkscreen up in Liverpool by a brilliant company up there. They suggested that I could have a ‘perfume’ added to the inks. As silkscreen had quite a strong ink smell in those days this seemed a good idea at the time, so I said ‘yes’ and asked if they had such a thing as ‘Essence of Jungle’. The boss there said ‘leave it to me’, so in a moment of madness I did.
Taking the posters out of the packaging on delivery nearly knocked me out: ‘Essence of Jungle’ was pretty strong. They said it would wear off after a while so I mailed it out to clients. Response was generally good but it was some years later that a trusted art director confided that the power of the poster perfume was so strong that they put it in their lavatories and saved considerable amounts on air freshener for a couple of years.
At least their clientele had the benefit of sitting down and contemplating this artwork, if they wished to take the full benefit of facilities.
You need to have seen yesterday’s for this to make sense, or maybe not.
This is a wonderful piece on someone I’d never heard of, read and listen at the same time.
‘Ultimately, man should not ask what the meaning of his life is, but rather must recognise that it is he who is asked. In a word, each man is questioned by life; and he can only answer to life by answering for his own life; to life he can only respond by being responsible.’ (Viktor Frankl)
‘I was leaving the south to fling myself into the unknown … I was taking a part of the South to transplant … To see if it would grow differently, if it could drink of new and cool rains, bend in strange winds, respond to the warmth of other suns and, perhaps to bloom.’ (Richard Wright)
‘It took me a whole week one time when I wasn’t doing anything, and I made the thing I call the Fotdella in my back room. I just got the idea lying’ in my bed one night, just…
View original post 1,393 more words
I came across this at the weekend, a very old piece of work and remember the circumstances well.I was asked to do this cover the day after I managed to put a hole through our dining room floor by mending a floorboard in the room above in the time honoured BIY tradition of simply pulling on one end of the old board so that, swing like, the other end went down through the ceiling below.
I think the fee helped to pay for someone more adept than I to repair.
For those of you cheesed off with my variation on a Russian Border Guard running theme here’s a blog that I enjoyed with some comments that resonate. Makes a change from the Guards…
I want to extend my deepest apologies to you. I know that I have failed you, as a blogger, and as a man.
I understand that my blog is not what you desire it to be.
But know this: I feel your pain.
Every time I stumble upon a blog about a person dealing with their battle with depression, I think to myself: why aren’t you blogging about pumpkins, or carving pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns, or pumpkin pie, or any type of pastry? How dare you blog about something that is important to you?
Every time I come across a blog about photography, I think: why so many pictures? Mountains, rivers, trees, children at play, it nauseates me? Why aren’t you blogging about foot fungus or calligraphy? Why aren’t you blogging about foot fungus, written in calligraphy? Shame.
I recently found a blog devoted strictly to the music of…
View original post 292 more words