Gallery.

the small book of breakages.

O'Brain. A tale of friendship.

 

Broken words.

Morning broken, break of dawn,

break the silence, a breaking storm.

Breaking waves at breakneck speeds,

break a leg, broken skin bleeds.

Tea break, handbrake on,

break a smile; break into song.

Break-dance; break the peace,

break rank, break to pieces.

Breaking and entering, break down the door,

break the tradition, breaking the law.

Brake lights on, breaking new ground,

break in, break out, break up, break down.

Broken sticks, broken stones,

broken hearts and broken bones.

Broken sleep with broken dreams,

break a promise; break the seams.

The brakes are broken, voice breaks when you call,

At breaking point… I’ll break your fall.

( from the small book of breakages.)

A caged bird softly cries her song.

This was recently selected for show by BBC art critic, Ben Lewis as part of the artournament festival.

Nan. Stencils/old photographs/enlarger.

My Nan died on christmas day when I was 13, this is made from hand drawn/cut stencils from the image on her bus pass. This is how I remember her. The negative spaces are made up of re-photographed old pictures of her life. The stencils were placed on the photographic paper under the enlarger to leave the white of the image on the paper.

From the book show, from Stroud to Bristol.

Mata Hari Triptic.

from Punch-A modern tale.

swazzle.

gazza the clown.

Jezza from the vyle freak show.

Gazza and Jezza.

A Board for freak show.

Mystic Graham.

Rule of thumb with puppets.

My rule of thumb.

Hand selected and measured sticks based on the story of rule of thumb origins. You were allowed to beat your wife with a stick no larger than the measurement of her thumb.

I love you.

From happy reconstituted families the game.

Words from the stories in my head.

He smelt of new clothes and old money.

Just dust in my pockets and your words in my head.

You took my dreams and sailed away, I float downstream hoping to find them one day.

I'm the hero of my story, I don't need to be saved.

It's over. An imagining of words being an actual physical thing. The old saying goes...'Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Well, they can and they do.

The words came out of your mouth and hung in the air between us.

They grew large and ominous.

I tasted the words, chewed them over.

They tasted cold and hard and I couldn't swallow them. I spat them on the floor and rose to leave.

But the words tripped me up. I fell. ..chipping off a piece of my heart. It rattled around my ribcage.

I gathered myself up and reached for the door. But there they were again.

I took a deep breath, took hold of them and swallowed them whole. They scratched and scraped.

I glanced back as you watched the words thud into my empty gut, shattering my heart into a hundred pieces.