Bitumen on board. Yes… bitumen, like on the road.
bout a meter across.
Still got the original. Wierd.
I started this piece about 5 years ago and had it hanging in a fancy gallery in Queensland for a little while. I thought they had kept it as they generally did their very best in their expensive sensible shoes and craven sexless souls to fuck me over. This was my first experience of galleries, and I met it with a baffled sadness. I met everything with a baffled sadness at the time because I was once again a drowning man, despair filling me full and making me cry. The gallery also made me feel like a fool. Humiliation… ah well.
So I didn’t try and get it back. I found it a little while ago at my sister’s house; she had picked it up from the gallery somehow with her mysterious efficiency. I thought “hey that’s pretty cool I wonder what great artist has left a painting just lying around in my sister’s house? Oh it’s ME!”
I worked on it off and on for a couple of weeks and this is the result. I don’t actually remember who posed for me, my memory being as odd as it is. It has that aching sense that I am always always always aiming; struggling for like a hungry monkey… grappling with a greased up hairless human BANANA SUFFRAGE and EMANCAPATION SUPPORTER holding a melting banana double split.