Say Yes To Free Tattoos

My latest set of tattoos are ready, and waiting to get to their new homes! A reminder of the tattoo project: they're free on condition you send hi-res photos of you (or someone you know) wearing them. Points are awarded for creativity and imaginative placement. It's s trio of three designs this time.

They're are inspired by the words of US poet Andrea Gibson, whose humbling and brilliant words you can read here. You can only get this latest set direct from me, or by going to one of poet Andrea's performances in the USA this summer.

You can see the global efforts of those already furnished with free fake ink at the MySpace Gallery.

Email if you'd like to be sent some. And remember - I WILL chase you for photos...

July 4th Fireworks Poster, NYC

This summer I did the July 4th Annual 33rd Fireworks poster for Macy's in New York. The legendary celebrations, sponsored by the 'world's biggest department store' Macy's were extra-special this year - the 400th anniversary of the discovery of Mannahatta island, by Henry Hudson who sailed up the river which was eventually to be named after him.

The job was to create a poster which was then turned into a store-side animation and window displays. As the poster had to reflect the historic nature of the event, the typography harked back to a pre-digital era with every letter and illustration hand-drawn, inspired by the history of the event and the pyrotechnics themselves.

Since we were in New York for three weeks in June, we just managed to catch the campaign as it went live, but not the event itself (though last year's were amazing!) If you're in NY, the Mannahatta Project exhibition at The Museum of the City of New York is incredible - see the island as it was at the point of discovery, its flora and fauna, and type in any Manhattan address to see what it looked 400 years ago.

'Identity' at the Ten Two Gallery

I went to a private view last night, one which, unusually, was held in my home town. A ten minute walk was refreshing ('private view' usually means a car or train trip to London or further afield) and the little gallery, Ten Two, where I used to have a studio a few years ago, was filled with people and the smell of warm bready things and coffee. (I should mention the gallery has its own cafe, very cosy with very large sandwiches.)

The work was 'Identity', the NHS Open Art Show 2009, which is touring. It's art by people who have suffered or still are suffering from health difficulties, with an apparent emphasis on mental health problems, whether currently in treatment or not. Some people had never made art before, some were postgraduate creatives, but the art was linked by an urge to communicate, express, explore, or deal with something personal and important.

Take 'Painting Mum' by Jan Welch. This is the one that had me standing in the corner in my unsubtle canary yellow rain mac trying not to show the reddening eyeballs. (I apologise that the iPhotos here are further affected by the glass reflections) Terribly moving in its simplicity, Jan had painted her Mum in a simple and realistic way, through three 'screens' of colour - pink for the positive outlook she retained throughout her life, grey for the Alzheimer's which eventually claimed her memory (but not her spirit) and yellow for the fear she felt 'most of the time'. In addition to this, the artist had painted over the photographs of the woman's three children, because the Alzheimer's eventually meant she forgot who they were.


Jack Shotbolt's 'Threadbare' is an ordered but frantic weaving of thick paint, a deep mesh of luminous colours and powerful strokes. This is a close-up. Of it, Jack says: 'In recent times I have repeatedly found myself in turbulent circumstances beyond my control that have rocked my world. The only constant has been my need to make sense of all this change by making paintings'.

This one I didn't record the artist for - sorry - but the position of the figure says it all. And the light. And the face...

This one I wanted to buy - but it was sadly the only one marked 'NFS': 'Covered ID' by Lou Woods (ID as in identity, or 'id' as in Freud?)

These delicate bowls called 'Change' and 'Gone' were made by Maggi Gamble after her mastectomy; tiny and fragile, they really needed no further explanation:

There were many others worthy of mention. Mat Brandford's 'The Gift And The Curse' was his first ever piece of artwork - a brave move then, to show such a thing in public - after 20 years of struggling to know 'which face to wear in which circumstances and with which people'. He had a past which included 'bullets' and a 'Teflon-coated' career in crime, and his brutally honest drawing shows his continuing struggle between the two 'faces'. I wish there was somewhere else online you could see all these - as there were plenty more I'd like to have mentioned.



This wasn't artwork shown for its awards, slickness, or clever concepts. To be presented with such raw and honest expressions was humbling and a little moving, and made me happy for the artists (to have such an outlet) and sad that they had cause to work in this way, though the resulting work was often beautiful. Some actually saw their mental / health problems as a gift, and chose to celebrate the different-ness it gives them. But mostly, it made me appreciate how lucky I am never to have been affected by such issues, and aware that one is always only ever a hair's breadth away from them.

A nice oxymoron

I love the title 'working holiday'. When I was younger I couldn't figure out what one was (surely you were doing one or the other), but as an adult I've had plenty of examples.

For instance, New York. We spent the last three weeks there, on a trip based round a couple of work commitments which quickly became 2-5 work commitments a day.

Along with all the meetings and stuff, and despite my feeble protestations (I'd already had three projects to finish), a couple of illustration jobs came in which were too nice to pass up, so I did them one weekend with sketchbook perched on a borrowed cupboard in front of the window, to get enough light to draw - and an incredibly ropey wireless connection. The files got there against the odds in the small hours, and here they are. A couple of nice new bits for the folio, with both clients a joy to work with (and extremely tolerant of my tech issues!).

For the Guardian newspaper, to encourage ethically and environmentally-driven companies to advertise with them. Entirely hand-drawn in felt tip pens and ink.

'Gangsters Special' - cover for the British Film Institute's Sight & Sound magazine. This one follows 'Tarantino', and is hopefully the second in a series

A Cosmopolitan Sketch Class

Every Tuesday and Thursday at the Society of Illustrators in New York you can sketch for three hours with a live band, drinks, and space to just draw. On Thursday, we did just that.

'We' was me and my friend from home, Tracy, a second-year student on Leicester De Montfort's fine art degree. Armed with little more than a handful of Japanese calligraphy pens, one bluntish pencil and a tiny brown sketchbook, we went on the understanding that we could, as the flyer says, buy some materials on arrival. Erm...nope, no materials for sale, so having not wished to lug an A3 sketchbook, 78 Faber Castells and 50 Staedtler Tripluses to up 63rd St., this was an impromptu chance to 'improvise'.

Improvisation started with scrounging some drawing paper from the chap next to us (A2 ish, brown - the paper, not the chap) after the host's deeply disappointing offer of Xerox sheets was dismissed. Further improvisation continued with drawing in the tiny sketchbook pages turned sideways and ripping the brown scrounged paper in half. But the improvisation REALLY took off when we escorted our cocktails back to our desks - two pink and rudely generous Cosmos made by Matt the Charming Barman, whose Moleskine I later knocked carelessly into the bar sink (well, daft place to put it wasn't it?)

So there sat two giggling English girls, slightly louder than the rest of the (largely male) sketchers, swallowing gulps of 'inspirational' pink liquid to the sound of live jazz played by fellow SOI members. This got looser as time wore on...when we got to Maple Leaf rag, I was really loosened up. Creatively speaking. (Look - I don't normally drink, OK?) Very quickly I saw that Tracy was all about fast and furious, grabbing the line, capturing the pose. I was straight into detail - face, hair, eyes, clothing - and she worked big, I went in small. The painter and the illustrator. The impressionist and the narrator.

The night was a fabulous three hour process of remembering what it is to draw with no agenda other than to try to record what you can see. It wasn't long before I remembered my drawing classes of yesteryear, and my habit of ignoring the slightly passe poses of the life model (we had two here, a semi-naked female and an often-starkers male) and focusing instead on the faces of the sketchers. The concentration...oh, the concentration.

Following on so quickly from Barron Storey's sketchbooks, I felt old processes awakening and recently-acquired hang-ups disappearing. I took my sketchbook and a handful of tools to Providence that weekend and drew some more. In the car, on the rocks, in a cafe. I want to do it right now and only tiredness prevents. Someone famous I can't remember once said 'try to draw something every day, even if it's only something little', and I would really, really, like to practice that.

Here, for better or for worse, is a selection of images from the night and a couple from the next day.

Barron Storey at the Society of Illustrators

Me and my friend Anthony Saint James (a gentleman of lenses as opposed to pens) were looking around the Society of Illustrators last week (I was checking out the Members' Gallery as I'm having a show there next year) when we saw that Barron Storey's 'Life After Black' exhibition was being put up in the main gallery downstairs.

With the show just about ready to open, Mr Storey himself was there, pasting pieces into little books and directing. But what we didn't know was that this was a show absolutely stuffed full to the gills with sketchbooks - and only sketchbooks - of all sizes, packed with minute drawings, pen and ink, notes, faces, type, motorbikes, trees...I've never seen anything like them in my life. And d'you know what? You could TOUCH. As it dawned on us the purpose of this show was To Touch (or rather to rifle excitedly through page after page) there was an almost audible sigh of relief so big that we needed to lie down for a minute.

They are, in the authentic sense of the word, awesome; just writhing with thoughts and humming brain activity. You do get the feeling that if he didn't do these, he would just grind to a halt. I had the pleasure of talking to him briefly and got the impression of a straightforward, kind, passionate man with pencils where fingers should be, dreaming in pictures and paper.

If you get the chance to go, you must. His work reminded me that sketchbooks are not just for Christmas, they're for life

Thumbs courtesy of Anthony!

My New York Pen Stash

This is my new haul from Kinokuniya opposite Bryant Park in NYC. I first went when it was suggested by Maria at the Altpick and it happens also to be round the corner from Bernstein & Andriulli's office. Very handy.

I COULD have spent about forty thousand dollars; instead I went for double-figures only, and settled for these (left to right):

- 3 x 2"x3" narrow-lined notebooks with manila and GOLD - yes gold - covers. Back pocket/handbag stuff.
- 1 x Pentel calligraphy brush with two spare black cartridges, with bubble of three spares.
- Set of three very cute BUT surprisingly robust mini-fountain pens with spare carts. In blue, orange and black. Am drawing with the black one tonight.
- Refillable calligraphy brush pen (fat) - GREAT not to have to chuck it out when it's done!
- Double-ended calligraphy brush; narrow stubby end for fine detail and fat end for more 'confident' strokes.
- Bog standard 2H pencil. The Bs are hard to rub out before scanning.
- Lovely stubby biro-like calligraphy brush pen. Has a sneakily disguised marker end with a VERY fine but firm brush tip. Exquisite.
- A tool to carve your own stamp from stone. Includes two stones. Looks sharp and scary and all the instructions are in Japanese so, wish me luck with that one.
Includes rub-down Arabic letters in upper and lower case Helvetica and an unknown Third Reich-style font.

Also Edward Gorey's never-filmed script for The Black Doll, in hardback.

Can't wait. I'm likely to go back before leaving NY so get your orders in now!

So you don't have to be dead then?

This week the Birmingham Institute of Art and Design, from whence I carved my degree in illustration, rang to tell me they were naming their new annual illustration prize after me.

My first thought was, 'Oh, my God, how wonderful', followed immediately by 'Don't you have to be dead to have a prize named after you?'

Well not so, it seems. I was not only a student there but have taught there on and off for over sixteen years, delivering seminars, workshops, Q&A sessions and just good old-fashioned illustration tutoring. So perhaps it isn't so surprising, and I am, of course, completely floored to be asked (for a second I was welling up).

The prize giving is in June and as I'll be away, my best friend Melanie Tomlinson a fellow BIAD post-graduate and maker of magical metal things, is handing over the award on my behalf. The award isn't just a certificate - oh no - I've organised a handsome trophy in the form of a one-year subscription to Bikinilists, a consultancy with my good mates at The Design Conspiracy, a portfolio surgery and a signed limited print. They also receive an Association of Illustrators' membership, so whichever fortunate student I choose as the recipient will exit the course armed with a fearsome set of tools to make their way in the illustration world.

Damn - I wish I'D had the Sarah Coleman Prize when I graduated! 'Must try harder'...

You can get information on BIAD's degree shows here.

(This is Catherine Linton, from Wuthering Heights, a 1/3 scale costume model from my degree project. She's made of welded steel and has real hand-sewn clothes. Yes I did do illustration, honest - I just liked to stretch the brief a bit...)

Retrotogo...

A friend of mine found this the other day, Retrotogo.com

Apparently this illustration makes them think of the Seventies - which is fine by me, I was a 70s baby of course!
There are some gorgeous objects on this blog - bags, jewellery, coats, furniture - with about an hour and a credit card I could do considerable damage...

Computer artist.

I'm in this month's Computer Arts Projects mag, showing you how to create very analogue-looking lettering with sneaky digital means, in a more-complicated-than-it-looks tutorial.

It's nice to see big close-ups of nib hitting paper, but when Nick rang - in a spooky Facebook-related telepathy incident - and asked me to contribute an article, I couldn't help thinking, 'eh? me? I'm all ink and mess, mate.' But actually, I do use my digital artillery more than I realise, and writing this article threw a big 50's-style interrogation spotlight on exactly what processes I do use, and the steps they involve. Cheers to Nick and Julia for asking me to take part.

If you live on an island surrounded by newsagent-eating sea monsters, you can download my tutorial here.

I'm in the July issue of Computer Arts too, so watch the shelves! Or even better - subscribe!

The Harley.

Sometimes an object is so beautiful it takes the wind out your pipes - and when your own pipes are being overshadowed by the glittering beasts on this new Harley XL883C Custom Sportster, that's not an insignificant event.

This is my Dad, John (that's Mum bringing out the tea) and this is his new bike. In Vivid Black and chrome, this diminutive beauty was already making far too much noise when it arrived at my door, Father astride it with newly-blacked boots and head-to-toe in leather. 'Oh yes', I agreed, as he pointed at the exhaust pipes in that unique muffled 'helmet-on' language only bikers understand; 'it is a bit noisy isn't it? Be better when you get the quiet ones fitted'.

A black leather finger wagged in my face. 'No,' said the helmet. 'These are going. I'm getting the loud ones fitted tomorrow'.

And he did. And they are loud. And the bike goes, according to Dad, just as he expected - like a great big joyful bag of bricks with a totally impractical pillion seat. He normally rides a fast and gargantuan Suzuki V-Strom in flame red, which looks after the little American cousin in the newly-tidied garage (anything from the Land of the Rising Sun is apparently always going to be genetically superior). But here is the bike, and here are its breathtaking curves and details.

Enjoy.