hey bubblers boy did we have a good day today, awesome wouldn’t describe it! Sue still trying to think of a word! it hurts when she think…
hey bubblers boy did we have a good day today, awesome wouldn’t describe it! Sue still trying to think of a word! it hurts when she thinks!, we took our mobile Art gallery out on the road today with new range in tow, wow did we do good Sold 5 pictures! still havn’t broken even but hey we will get there, if you want to know what a mobile Art Galery looks like visit our portfolio, pics will be available for viewing for a day only, would love to know what you think of it?, bought a really old box camera for 6.50 a bargain, apparantley you can still get glass plates for them, gonna try that for sure watch this space!, been asked to attend a Arts & Craft Fair in November, that made us feel well made up I can tell you, have you ever tried putting a gazebo up with no instructions! a must!........................ amusement factor or what, especially for those other Car Booters at the car boot! who nobly lended a hand with Sue’s pole (Always Having Trouble with her pole), ohh we bought an easel! Ohh There goes the profits! as well as a burger from burger man (Yes he still Going), advertised redbubble to the max, on all our advertising, keep on bubbling & if you are ever visiting North Cornwall pop in & say G/Day Paul,Sue & Tiggs p.s. does anybody know where the memory card goes on a box brownie? ..........
Hah! that fooled you, Thought we had been detained! but no! we got a holiday from the day job,& you know what that means?...................
Hah! that fooled you, Thought we had been detained! but no! we got a holiday from the day job,& you know what that means?........................... gonna need a bigger memory card! got a few shoots planned some will be impromptu! I think some times they work better, will keep you all in suspense & load the best of the bunch next Friday (What do you mean relief) ....................... moving quickly on to the next subject, this weeks project! what’s that I hear you ask, each week we set a subject & would like to see your works covering the subject, this weeks subject is…................................................ TRAINS!, so come on you bubblers lets see yor trains, if you dont’t mind that is, A BIG thank you to all those bubblers who added our work to thier favourites & those of you who added us to thier watchlist, Finally any bubblers who live in Paris! would love to hear from you keep on bubbling, & just as a finale…............ had to go & get Sue from the Gnome Rescue Centre….. yes me being serious they do have a garden Gnome rescue centre in Tintagel! Happy Bubbling (Will you miss us)
Some ten years ago I worked in the mining industry whose dominant paradigm is that unless you work in the industry you are just a burden …
Some ten years ago I worked in the mining industry whose dominant paradigm is that unless you work in the industry you are just a burden on society. I was an on site biologist and my job during construction was to save what could be saved and to kill what must be killed, we called it euthanasia but I don’t think the animals concerned noticed the subtle difference in terminology. This was my war and it damn near separated me from sanity, it still haunts me… It is always July on the Plateau Rain comes / dripping through the Casuarinas / inheriting the last light / making the gum trees cold to look at Its low conductive voice muttering disappointment / each drop recalling diamond absolutes / flowing over granite, pinkly tinkling There is gold in this here monolith and I do not mean the suns explosive vector This bond of men found in doing, our broken tribute to downtime / Diesel chugs in metronome, intoning and entraining / ceaselessly oozing into pools of rainbow shock / fractals of the sky In this newly desolate place / the deepest contract is made insecure / Trust torn open / windborne voices roar across the muddy evisceration We who cut this scarless face see the shattered unborn and cry at such terrifying loss
O.K. you might say what makes us happy! is it the new Car in the drive, is it that we may have sold a print or two, or that we have won s…
O.K. you might say what makes us happy! is it the new Car in the drive, is it that we may have sold a print or two, or that we have won some money on the lottery!, no to all of the above! Picked my little 6 year old up from School today on one of my acesses day’s only see him twice a week, which aint bad, having asked him what he wanted to do, he revealed he wanted to make pictures like his Dad!!, so spent a fun filled two hours drawing planes,boats & trains & mounting them for him! the best time we have spent together for a long time, motto of the story, Art is fun, should be fun & although we may not be able to sell his prints! we created in the space of two hours a space for me & harry to express ourselves!!!! woah that was deep, especially for me, anyway he wants to sell them to aquire the new Spiderman game for playstation oh well it was a fun two hours, anyone want to buy a print or two Crafted by a 6 year old & a dad who makes boat’s look like a plane gone wrong Happy bubbling Paul,Sue,Haryy & Tiggs
- I have chronic bipolar disorder… it sucks, mostly. I don’t seem to be able to stop being too hot or too cold. I should probably get …
- I have chronic bipolar disorder… it sucks, mostly. I don’t seem to be able to stop being too hot or too cold. I should probably get a house with air conditioning (I will just spray the conditioner I have in my bathroom up n down and all around and see if that helps.) I USED to have air conditioning at my house – I wrote on the controls in purple felt tip pen “for permed or colour treated air.” / OK well I have done all the remarkably simple tasks necessary for this morning and for me they were mammoth undertakings requiring much sweat and most of all, courage. Just have to ignore all the fear and go DO IT ALL ANYWAY. / Hm…I love the names of paints. Not the ones that they come up with for you to paint your house with. I have always thought I would be good at that though – / For your lounge “winter ferret” and for your kitchen, “happy exploding sunflower” and in your dining room, “fragrant maroon mice” with a split level in “hungry hungry hippo.” / Or not. / Real paints have names like crimson alizarin, burnt umber, spectrum yellow, French ultramarine, titanium white and cobalt blue. Somehow more real they elicit possibility like a blank white canvas or a snow-white untouched high cotton yield watercolour sheet. Like a beach without footprints or a wide green field of soft grass. At the same time they threaten to overwhelm me with their original unsullied beauty. / So, anyhoo, I sit here, naked in the cold because I choose to be, because I don’t care. I do believe, I do, that we are brilliant and unique, random, an act of somewhere silent, sliding through the world on the diamond flaws that everyone tries so hard to believe. Arbitrary, indiscriminately created, hacked open and carved from the world. / I have been remiss but that does not indicate that I have not been paying attention. / The distress abates by degrees, and by degree it returns and haunts and hurts. This is how it has always been. / I have even been up of late, yes directly up not even dysphoric. Can feel my fingers and toes tingle all day for no reason in slow waves of pleasure, hold them before my face, bend at the hip to pick lavender and put it in my pocket. Stretch strong and beautiful in the morning sun. / Just the tantalizing threads of it in my blood making me bite my cheeks and begin, once more, to push the worlds of my mind onto paper, to hold their drifting and stinging forms. / And it surges and falls like the sea, beats like wind against glass in my head. It has been a few days since I felt the irrational pleasure throb through my limbs. But ah, yes ah YES I know it will be back and soon and I will whisper to it and brush its feathers and ask it to stay stay stay. / I have been being very careful. I have not worked to the extent that I know I can, that I am pushed to and pressured in the back of my mind. I have even held back from the truth of my desires and have been making works that are gentle and lyrical. Before the storm. I have rational rationale that I must follow before I get all carried away and covered in paint inside and out. I do feel in a kind of limbo. I don’t know if this is happiness or not. I am lonely and dissatisfaction nests in my mind. Of course, of course. But limbo is better than purgatory and purgatory is better than hell. Often I feel… vague and unreal. / I stare so keenly at the moments days weeks without knowing that I am actually mad – this time, it does not possess the defining edge of reality that the very distortion and pain brings. How odd. Ridiculous. / ABSURD. And while I have this stillness, this ineptitude for subsistence there is always the star monster, world eater, inside me. It is inside us all, somewhere, elsewhere, else-when, telling us, calling to us in the night… / Don’t ever stop asking don’t ever ever stop reaching the answer to the question what is the meaning of life is the question what is the meaning of life. Breathe the sweet breath of madness tie your mind to itself in switches and arcs of pleasure and lights and pain, in stutters and twitches and flights and bursts of colour in your vision. / We are all so bound to lucidity. To rationalism. Ah hell. And to it we eventually return. / I wish I was my cat (the cat is dead, long live the cat!) “I am a brother to dragons / I am a companion to owls. / My skin is black upon me. / And my bones are burned with heat.” Ah my friends, my loving mad friends. I do so hope we all survive. / Spin through the random sky… faithless, of course. Faith in what? Paul
I have a huge swelling feeling growing in the back of my head, reaching forward in grasping fibrillated and soggy claws. I know this feel…
I have a huge swelling feeling growing in the back of my head, reaching forward in grasping fibrillated and soggy claws. I know this feeling, frenetic as it is, coiled and sprung and filled up with sand. It is MANIA jumpstarting my head and collapsing into itself like a singularity or a sandcastle or a limestone blow hole. I love it and cherish it at the same time as despising it and feeding it my wants and desires and lust to make it bigger and nastier and more of itself as it swells. / There is nothing to it but what I have invented and scoured from the crusty sides of my eyes but it exists with strength and yes futility that I can not help and can almost touch. I AM filled up with it though in twitchy and hyper accelerated mannerisms and cigarettes smoked too fast with dark music always always in the background. / And I’m so tired fucking sick of it wish it would go the fuck away out like I always dreamed of being able to control it and switch it on to the times when it’s wanted and fun for one and all. Wish I could eat but can’t huh that’s prey for my meat than the other way around, and it hurts me just to keep breathing sometimes when it’s sharp and red so red like a blow to the head huh. / Oh yeah ah huh right now for fuck’s sake. I must say this I have to spit it out though I don’t know that I really want to see it all laid open like a finger on a slide. / I was committed first time in – voluntarily no I sure didn’t want to go there. I asked the psychiatrist filling in forms if she wanted to have sex with me and took off my shirt and lay on her desk and told her secret things about the stars. I couldn’t accept it because I believed that I was smarter than the people who committed me, and I still fucking do. I did put blades in my arms and I did want to die far more than I wanted to live I did cut In school when I was twelve years old I sat in class and cut my fingers with a pocket knife. “Paul, what are you doing?” / “Is this some kind of fucking trick question?” / These things are real, they exist in my messed up and inaccurate memory but they ARE still there. / And for a moment a singular pervasive short-lived killing moment memory floods every sensation that I have. Twitch lurches across my face like a wire hook. Brilliant so bright but hard to see. I remember I do some weird party no idea how I got there kissing and groping some old woman while huge old men did lines and watched me with ugly wasted eyes. Running thru the forest afterwards blood streaming down my face didn’t know where I was how I got there it was the middle of fucking nowhere and it sure felt like the end. Beaten to a pulp but wild with energy and painting my face with fingers full of blood I felt like I had slid into a Bosch painting. I remember my face swelling I think some guy had hit me with a BAT. They stamped on my head while I lay in the road and fractured my eye orbits apart from other things I had deep black under my eyes for a YEAR. / And I stood in the trees in the woods spinning around and around and laughing before I sat quietly by myself found my knife tried to write my name in my arm with cuts. Woke up in the dark with ANTS in my wounds everywhere my face swollen up like a sick balloon. No idea where I was; none. Started running and kept running. Memory fades in haze. A few days in hospital the normal kind I walked to the bottle shop every day with IV shit sticking out of my arm. / I remember oh yes different time (time is a sickness) I woke at the beach some kids standing over me saying LOOK AT ALL HIS CUTS before I pushed them away and vomited into the sand. / Found some girl some night and tried to show her I could draw by smashing a bottle and carving a face, my face, into a table in a café. I put a beard on it and it looked like Jesus and I fucking laughed so hard and laughed and laughed. / I stood in the street and hit the wall with my hand until I could actually feel it; I think I broke my wrist not sure it stopped me from being able to play guitar without being drunk for a long time and of course drunk, drunk, drunk I was most of the time anyway. / Ah yes oh, helpful POLIcemen to whom I would not give my name; I told them I was Zarathustra a Nietzschean reference I don’t think he GOT. They chased me down the street and I couldn’t stop laughing until they all crashed me to the ground and I punched one with my broken bleeding hand and spent some time screaming in a cell and throwing myself at the walls. / They let me go somehow and at court I got to plead INSANITY which I also thought was pretty fucking funny or rather do now as I could not raise rage from my heart, black blackest humour finally swamped by massive doses of anti-psychotics / Broke my guitar and held it like a baby in the street for hours and wept and wept and wept. / So many girls I could never EVER remember they were going to rescue me each one – had all my catch phrases worked out “wake me when the war is over” and something about drowning men and a head full of Shakespeare quotes. I couldn’t believe they worked every time but OH YES THEY DID. Sometimes I could not make love to them I was too drunk I think who knows more ritual phrases morning ones were “where am I?” followed by “who are you?” (Insert snarl/grin/panic.) on my web page this is all continued… i shall also add more
They whispered in my ears and I listened. They kept me awake and sometimes it would sound exactly as if dogs were barking by my ear, and …
They whispered in my ears and I listened. They kept me awake and sometimes it would sound exactly as if dogs were barking by my ear, and my name hissed over and over to me as I began to doubt. Never acquiesced never ever gave in and began to believe in the hardness of breathy hallucination only that I was worth nothing a fever of trickery swimming through think stinking mud holding pain like it’s a gun or a talisman or a glyph. All of this mass mutilation of reality hit my senses one by one blow upon blow the shitty student house I was in was stripped away. Happened quickly, I know that is true, but it felt slow All this a swamp a stamp a landfall a whirlpool the ground giving way fall the fall the FALL the most real vertigo. The moments all of it blazed branded into my brain. / And then black and it just went on and on there was no respite no total separation no coma of numbness the cancer of self hatred eating growing through every break and twist in the real. The dark inside stretching forever into the distance and I was blind with fear I knew that any more and any longer I would never come back. / Nothing within that mass swinging tumult could take me away from the pain of the moment that I was in THERE WAS NO RESPITE immolation the only constant pain loathing purified rarefied. / It was mixed state in extremis I could feel it crashing into abjection sobbing before whirling and flying back up and this was where fear began and slowly took over. I accelerated into full mania knew that was where I was going but as I raced into it my memory stopped. Five or ten or twenty minutes later I came falling down and everything in the room in the house was smashed I had no MEMORY from each. New cuts my wrists ripped open blood pouring from them and from the opened veins in my elbows. / It KEPT GOING. I couldn’t stop had let Cerberus from the leash and all three heads were nuzzling my brain. Up into a blackout pure and down into despair and desperation and for the first time mortal fear, terror of death at the hands of me as memory-less puppet, the mannequin marionette unknown. Not my hands, someone and something else another me trying to kill me. / This is when I knew terror. I knew that if I did not stop I would do it. Never come down cut my throat but get it RIGHT. I didn’t know what I WAS as I went up into it. A rotation at intervals of twenty minutes fear crossing my heart squirming in my gut white pale with it went to look in the mirror face covered in blood I could see in the broken shards. No memory, just the knowledge that I wanted to die and was capable of doing it. No understanding of whom I was or what I would do. Clarity slipped a tiny splinter but pure and real and I found the phone and went back to hospital. Voluntary and afraid. That was the last time only in the sense of the completion of its extremity. It took me four more years before I stopped drinking and finally tried in my heart’s core in my heart of hearts to heal. / But that was the key. The epiphany. The Answer; that there really was none. / Whatever redemption I have found it is driven by that fear and that terrible knowledge. And by will. By WILL. / I will never give up the responsibility of sanity is MINE as much as I can choose I will choose will force it shredding strength as it returns and returns and returns, exhausting inevitable, seasons of pain I will NEVER stop fighting. At the edge, at the corner of Nietzsche’s Abyss, there is only really death. Post script. Still here. Sober for eight years. Paint for pain, write for release. Sing for absolution. / To me there is no meaning to life other than that which we give it; that we apply to it. We INVEST meaning into our lives with our time, with our efforts and with our love. And there is no succour in madness. I have inscribed on my cigarette case “tempus fugit. Memento mori.” / “Time flies. Remember you will die.”
Well I woke up this morning and as usual the first thing I do is turn on the computer . I’m still addicted to RB but I’m about to start …
Well I woke up this morning and as usual the first thing I do is turn on the computer . I’m still addicted to RB but I’m about to start seeking help for this…or at least I was until today…. You see, I made a sale – a laminated print too. How exciting is that. What a fabulous way to start the day. Thankyou to the wonderful person who purchased Fenced Off I was absolutely stoked. But then, I saw that my pic called Cucamonga was on the What’s Hot List. Just as exciting as a sale, I can tell you – it’s my first time on that list and its recognition that my work is heading in the right direction. / And then I got favourited on the Home Page. My absolute first time there. All of this in 1 hour…....an hour when I should have been getting the boys breakfast, feeding myself, getting dressed, cleaning the house etc…talking to my husband… Instead I have spent the morning on the computer typing thankyou’s and reading fabulous comments and writing this….So I am in a quandry – I want to enjoy my time on the top of the list (as it may not happen again) ...but I also have a family…..what do I do!!!! It’s a brilliantly sunny day here in Oz and I’m missing it…all because this damn site is sooooo addictive and fabulous.. Ahhhhhhh / But I love it. Thanks to everyone who has stopped by and commented and a special thanks to the buyer of “Fenced Off” . I really do appreciate it Have a good day everyone. / Naomi.
Well, the day finally came! yep we opened up our overview & their it was? a bubblemail from the proud owner, will be keeping his name sec…
Well, the day finally came! yep we opened up our overview & their it was? a bubblemail from the proud owner, will be keeping his name secret so he dosn’t get beseiged by thousands of imageworld followers, I said to Sue the day would finally come & it did, feel I should make an Oscar Award type speech but no just gonna say thank you to bubble for providing a first class site, one with all the feedback that we need, all the friends we need & support, it drives us on to take even better photo’s & hopefully our dream is all that bit closer now, thank you once again to the proud owner & please treasure our picture because we do Paul,Sue & tiggs
I am over the moon, lovely Jim Caldwell has just purchased a laminated print of Spitting Mad, I am so thrilled Jim, my face resembles the…
I am over the moon, lovely Jim Caldwell has just purchased a laminated print of Spitting Mad, I am so thrilled Jim, my face resembles the moon, thank you for all your support since I joined RB just over 4 weeks ago, Dawnxxx
Do what I hear you ask, well we actually sold 2 pictures from our Exhibition, both pictures are here on redbubble, Mists of Time & Storm …
Do what I hear you ask, well we actually sold 2 pictures from our Exhibition, both pictures are here on redbubble, Mists of Time & Storm at St. Agnes, someone from lancashire down here on holiday bought them, first thing this morning we gets a phone call from the curator could we have 2 more pictures please! yipes didn’t think about replacing them so a mad dash & 4 hours later we re hung the 2 that had been sold, cool eh! hoping this gonna be our year, all things cool here we still settling little man down & making plans to increase our equipment by purchasing a new lens & a studio lighting kit so making plans like crazy as far as little man will let us for the moment Happy bubbling Paul,Sue,Thomas & Tiggs
.....sang Billy Connolly on the theme tune to Supergran in 1985, well my Gran doesn’t have a fly…
.....sang Billy Connolly on the theme tune to Supergran in 1985, well my Gran doesn’t have a flying bike, but she totally ripped it up at the esteemed Goodwood racecourse in a Lamborghini, a Ferrari and a Porker (not pictured, because they suck). She clocked up 135mph on the straights, that’s 217kmh in new money. She’s 90, in fact, she’s well into her 90s. And she makes awesome raspberry jam. She has the lifeforce, and I have her haircut, so by my reckoning I’ll be powering a Bugatti Veyron round the M25 in another 62 years. / (My Gran is not called Beryl, in case the colloquialism escapes you)
Van Gogh cuts off his ear. Sylvia Plath gasses herself. The …
Van Gogh cuts off his ear. Sylvia Plath gasses herself. The link between art and madness gets too deeply explored by some artists. And 80 RedBubblers get into the act in a town outside of Melbourne. They gather for a weekend of art and photography in a disused asylum. WARNING VIDEO CONTAINS ADULT MATERIAL / I could leave it at that. But you know me. So, just a quick thought. I constantly hear (and have heard) of the difference between being practical and useful or not. Having that winning grasp on reality is what is esteemed. And it occurs to me that art dances on the edge of a sort of madness. With art we embellish reality. We go deep behind the pragmatic and we scream that there is more. We declare our humanity lies not in the food we eat and the dollars we earn but in that which cannot be counted and which has no (real) value. Our art stares reality in the eye and offers up a tulip. Tragically some artists push this too far and lose their sanity to art. But out there in the “real” world a greater tragedy unfolds with thousands sacrificing their humanity to a smothering mundanity. You can see the full work produced by the RedBubbler’s at Aradale here. And if you would like help and advice on organising a meetup then please contact support@redbubble.com. Martin (aka PIlgrim)
It’s been one magnificent whizzbanger of a year, and as we reach the final straight we thought now was a good time to pause and say *than…
It’s been one magnificent whizzbanger of a year, and as we reach the final straight we thought now was a good time to pause and say thank you. Thanks for being who you are, for doing what you do, we wouldn’t be here without you and your marvellous imaginations. So now we’re going to Double Your Earnings! Any sale you make over the next 3 days will earn you double your margin, up to a maximum 20%. It all happens automatically but if you want to know how it works you can find some details below. With the holidays on the horizon, and the chance of earning some extra coin, there really hasn’t been a better time to go and remind your boss, your neighbours and your pet tortoise that you’re here, you’ve got some excellent art and you’re willing to sell it. But you only have 3 days, it ends Thursday November 12th at 11pm GMT (check your local time here). So go get promoting. Thanks from all the RedBubble Gear Oilers but particularly Mr Baxter. / —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-Image Credit: Maria Dryfhout – Whole Wheat Here’s an explanation of exactly what’s happening For every sale you make over the next 3 days we’ll double your earnings up to a maximum of 20% of the base manufacturing price. So if you sell a t-shirt and normally have a 20% markup you’d receive US$3.99, (20% of US$19.95 base price) so now we’ll double that to US$7.98. (US$3.99 + US$3.99, 20% + 20%) / And if you normally sell a t-shirt with a 30% markup, you’d receive US$5.99, (30% of US$19.95 base price) so now we’ll increase that to US$9.98. (US$5.99 + US$3.99, 30% + 20%) It will all happen with techno-wizardry at the checkout, and will be confirmed in your sales notification, you don’t have to do anything. Any queries, ask here. . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . / . Because I reckon I’m quite good at choosing friends I occasionally find myself in the situation that occurred today at lunch, when I had a quick bite to eat with a close associate and he randomly gave me a ‘Gakken New Edison-Style Cup Phonograph Kit’ which Is about the coolest thing I’ve been given since I got arms. Basically it’s like a proper phonograph, except it records onto plastic cups, obviously. You just have to set the motor turning and shout into the cone, you get about 50 seconds of recording time, and then you can play them back again. And because my friend is a smart fucker, he got one too, so I can record him a thank-you rap-cup and post it to him for playback at his leisure. I recommend you all get one. Way more fun than email. / / / /
I apologize in advance for using Redbubble to vent my anger as I will be the first to agree that this site is for ART…However, I urge you…
I apologize in advance for using Redbubble to vent my anger as I will be the first to agree that this site is for ART…However, I urge you to read on; I have to tell you all as I am about to scream…and am writing to my local newspaper also. Yesterday afternoon I took a short trip to the store…almost there, I rounded this corner and I couldn’t believe me eyes…there was some guy beating and kicking on another man in a wheel chair…. I couldn’t stop as traffic was right on my tail (I rolled down my window and yelled as loud as I could at the man doing the abuse), but as soon as I could I turned to look back and saw the wheel chair on it’s side and the occupant was on his side being repeatedly kicked…. I ran into the store and reported it to the service department and stood there as they called it in to our local PD…I am so upset that this goes on in my small community…. I live in a rural area in Northern California…. what has happened to us? How can we become these animals that have no regard for another person? I just can’t even comprehend this level of anger and abuse…not to mention the disregard for another fellow human. I don’t by any means live a sheltered life and I have in my lifetime been exposed to more things than most, but this is one thing that I really don’t understand and cannot tolerate! When I was done at the store (a matter of just a few short minutes) I stopped by the scene and the police had the perpetrator in handcuffs; I explained who I was and what I had seen and assured them that I would be available for further statements if necessary…the fire department medical team was administering first aid to the victim, who was still laying on the pavement. I was and am sickened by this first hand exposure to such violence on another fellow man…. I pray that this disgusting behavior is not tolerated by anyone and that people will stop turning their backs and pretending that it doesn’t exist . GOD help us All ! I’m not looking for a pat on the back; I want people to be aware and for crying out loud, if you are one with an anger problem, please seek help…it is nothing to be ashamed about…...... ENOUGH SAID !
Yesterday, Mark German and I went on an adventure to Sugarloaf Reservoir ..as you can read here...
Yesterday, Mark German and I went on an adventure to Sugarloaf Reservoir ..as you can read here ..take a look at his link too :) Here are just a handful of my images from the day .. and no..not ‘cranky’ ..just in a fair amount of pain and pretty knackered…but it was still an adventure and one hell of an experience..and that is never a bad thing ..for one..it teaches you to not be so bloody stupid as to walk for 25kms in 28C with just a dirty old bottle of untreated water to drink ! Please excuse some of them, as not processed properly.
Thank you so very very much for this marvelous / triple feature in / Core [C.O.R.E] Group-...
Thank you so very very much for this marvelous / triple feature in / Core [C.O.R.E] Group / for this work of mine / Lost And Found / Hugs & Huggles to you dear Ushna :) Also thanks to to these groups for featuring this image: / Mad Hatters Group / Images & Ideas Most appreciated !! ...roy
All those names conjure up such excitement in me!! Johnny will be playing the Mad Hatter, / Helena will be the Red Queen / and of cours…
All those names conjure up such excitement in me!! Johnny will be playing the Mad Hatter, / Helena will be the Red Queen / and of course… the taste of Burton’s style reigns surpreme over everything! Mixed with (what I believe) the storyline around the best children’s story ever written!! How could we not be excited???!!! Burton’s Alice in Wonderland trailer
!http://images-1.redbubble.net/img/clothing/bodycolor:forest/product:tshirt/size:large/style:mens/view:preview/3522638-1-fighting-tigers….
I am over the moon my Tee Fighting Tigers featured in the Tiger,Tiger group, many thanks you guys, this is a tee I am wating hehe, delighted that you like it too, dawnxx Tigers are on the endangerd creatures list
Well, after another complaint about the skeleton, I thought I’d better change my avatar again…. and who came to the rescue, none oth…
Well, after another complaint about the skeleton, I thought I’d better change my avatar again…. and who came to the rescue, none other than Earthmonster who just can’t stop fiddling…..LOL!!! Thanks Mark, I like my new Bertie look, and had no complaints since I changed over….heh :) Now waiting to see what Stuart Chapman comes up with…..hehe
Earlier today there was a bit of an incident down on my local beach. A small boy got into the family car which was parked on a reasonably…
Earlier today there was a bit of an incident down on my local beach. A small boy got into the family car which was parked on a reasonably steep street across the road from the beach and managed to release the handbrake and knock this brand new Lexus wagon out of gear. The car rather predictably then took off down the street and rolled right out into the busy main road, over the gutter and down another steep driveway then crashed through two fences and go straight over a sheer eight metre cliff straight on to the sands below. The small boy managed to avoid all traffic and pedestrians and steered the car perfectly down the second long narrow driveway and then leapt from the car just seconds before it went airborne over the cliff escaping with a few cuts and bruises. Not such happy news for the car though… that was comprehesively totalled….. / . / This is the street the car had been parked on about 100 metres up the road in a driveway… if you look carefully you can see the tire marks… / . / / . / directly across the busy busy Lawrence Hargrave Drive the car barrelled across was this narrow and steep private driveway and the little lad managed to get the car straight down this before it veered to the right and plowed straight through the two fences….once again if you look really closely you can see the tire marks… / . / / . / another view of the second driveway with it’s now tastefully displaced fencing… / . / / . / and this is where it ended up much to the consernation and general amazment of the local wet ones… / . / / . / yep that’s some ding in the duco….. / . / / . / a better view of the cliff it came down….and this is a really small sort of cliff for around these parts… phew ! / . / / . / fortunately the NRMA will give you a free tow if your car becomes incapacitated although this may have been somewhat streching the friendship a tad… / . / / . / the fella’s had to try a few types of chains and things before getting it hitched up to this nifty little tow truck and my goodness lucky it was low tide is all I can say….. / . / / . / but soon enough the car was hitched and the Lexus was ready for it’s final inglorious tow up the beach to the dead car place….. / . / / . / but have a look at what that bounce down the cliff did to it… can you imagine the fate of the child if he hadn’t have leapt out the open window as the car got to the cliff…. / . / / . / the fire brigade came to give a bit of assistance too and a passing council worker stopped and stood about with his arms crossed looking inscrutable in his fluro jacket which gave the whole scene the perfect gravitas….and so it all went pretty soothly from that point on… / . / / . / at breakfast this was a brand new car the apple of this families eye… by morning tea it was toast…. / . / / . / and off it goes for a slow and scenic beach trip behind the terriffic little tow truck… / . / / . / so what I’m thinking is that this little boy was unbelievably lucky in many many ways… however I’m also thinking that the insurance company may not be too impressed with the concept of shelling out the bones to replace this shiny and very expensive new car…. which could lead to the little lad being put up for rehoming on ebay fairly soon in order to recoup some of the costs involved in this escapde… or maybe being grounded till he’s about eighty and has paid of the staggering debt his folks now have…. luck hey it comes in all sort sof manifestations ….. here is a link to the newspaper story in the Sydney Morning Herald for the full details and there is an updated version of the story here
Tone has journaled about Ken Duncan having a spra…
Tone has journaled about Ken Duncan having a spray regarding the rules and regulations confronting photographers in Australia at the moment…as Ken states, there’d be much less tourism without the photographers…. This is a very interesting read….especially to those who are being accosted more and more by self righteous worriers who seem to think we’re all there to photograph their children, and paste them all over the internet….or dare to show off the beauty of our country…
this is a total joke / / well it would be if it wasn’t true ! Look...
this is a total joke / / well it would be if it wasn’t true ! Look A watercolour by Liam O’Farrell, the artist who came under police suspicion for painting outdoors Photograph: Liam O’Farrell Taking a photograph in a public place has become the quickest way to attract police attention, as increasing numbers of photographers can verify. But now it has emerged that anti-terrorism officers are uneasy about a far less sophisticated piece of surveillance technology: the watercolour brush and canvas. Liam O’Farrell, an artist who exhibited at this year’s Royal Academy summer show, has described how he had been questioned and searched by police twice inside a week while painting a scene close to City airport in east London. The artist contacted the Guardian following a series of incidents in Britain in which photographers, tourists and students were stopped under anti-terrorism laws. The situation was highlighted in last Saturday’s Guardian when a reporter, Paul Lewis, described being questioned within two minutes of taking photographs of the Gherkin building in the City of London. In a similar spirit of inquiry, Lewis went to the London Eye, central London, today armed with an easel, canvas and acrylic paints. What O’Farrell called, perhaps inevitably, his “brush with the police”, began when he set up his equipment on a grass bank adjoining a public road just south of City airport. With his back to the complex he set about painting a composite scene of terrace houses and the Tate & Lyle sugar factory a few streets away. Inside half an hour two Metropolitan police officers from the specialist unit based at the airport arrived in a patrol car and demanded to know what he was doing, saying he had been spotted on a CCTV camera. “I told them, ‘I’m hardly a terrorist, I’m watercolouring’. One policeman said, ‘you’re not painting the airport, are you?’ I told him I was painting the sugar factory. He said ‘no one paints factories’. I told him Lowry painted loads of factories and made a mint. He got a bit touchy then.” For 15 minutes, O’Farrell said, one officer checked his identification on a radio while another searched his bag. “They said I had ‘weird paraphernalia’ with me. I said ‘it’s a flask of coffee and an iPod’.” O’Farrell said he had returned to the same spot a week later to complete the work and was interrogated again, by two other officers. “I told them I was just doing a watercolour of the sugar factory. One of them said ‘no one does watercolours of factories’. I told them about Lowry – it was groundhog day. It was extraordinary. “Then one said ‘I can see what you’re doing now, I’d be a bit more concerned if you were painting the airport’. I remember from my art history that centuries ago in China artists were murdered in case they [painted] maps and roads. But in the days of digital photography I hardly think a watercolourist painting an airport would be some sort of international threat.” The experience left him baffled. “I’ve been painting in Moscow, in Vietnam, Ukraine, and all I get round me are bunches of kids. If the police come by they’re just curious about the painting. It’s extraordinary what happened to me.” The incident took place in the summer of 2007, O’Farrell said, and he was prompted to write after hearing about recent events. A spokesman said the Met’s assistant commissioner, John Yates, had reminded officers last week that they should not stop photographers without reason. “Anyone could imagine why an airport is seen as a sensitive site, but we are aware that there are issues of communication with officers about what they can and can’t do, which is why John Yates has taken these measures,” he said. Today the advice was seemingly being heeded. The Guardian’s reporter spent a couple of hours creating his rendition of the London Eye on a winter afternoon, and, barring a polite request from a security guard to move to a different section of the riverside thoroughfare, received no official attention whatsoever. The only other interest came from tourists keen to see the work’s progress.
I found out earlier today that I will have to go for what has been described as minor surgey. Apparently the ‘Proceedure’ is pretty strai…
I found out earlier today that I will have to go for what has been described as minor surgey. Apparently the ‘Proceedure’ is pretty straight forward but as with all surgery there is a risk. I have been told the success rate is about 33% / This is something I’ve been putting of for a while but Elaine has convinced me that I have to face up to the truth. / I have finally accepted I have Bubbleitious Disfunction. This will require the surgical removal of the keyboard from my fingers & removal of the swivel chair from my bottom. / If the surgery fails you’ll all have to suffer many more hours of mindless drivel from my vast empty head. / See you all in 2010 folks have a good un!! / HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!
RedBubble is a great place to find art, design, photos and writing from over 80,000 talented people.
On stunning greeting cards, awesome t-shirts or beautiful prints to hang on your walls.
It’s really simple. If you’re not happy with your purchase for any reason, we’ll fix it.
Since February 2007 we’ve shipped over 333,600 items to more than 70 countries around the world.
Sign up for your free account, upload your work, join some groups and share your creative genius with the world.