This would have been even quicker if my Wacom and Photoshop hadn’t developed lag issues that refuse to resolve ever since Windows 10 insisted on being updated! Thanks, Windows, I really appreciate your dedication to Not Working.
Based on a staged photo of a “fight” taken in 1961 in the Horse Guards barracks…
The pink is available here and here, and the grey (with a transparent back) is available here, on a variety of products. I’m eating Finnish soft liquorice (thanks to a Helsinki-based friend who came to experience just how bad British public-use ice skates are first-hand! To the tune of David Bowie night at my local rink), and reading an absolutely insufferable book. I hope everyone else’s tedious, dreary Dry/Vegan Januaries are beginning to brighten.
In addition to the following I have also been recording a somewhat lo-fi radio show, but I’ve hidden that elsewhere on the internet.
This handsome devil is usually located in Room 1, or as I like to think of it “the preview room”, at the British Museum. The newsprint shading effect probably caused more problems than any other single part of this picture put together.
Hello, I’ve written another book which is now sitting in the dusty drawer marked “I don’t want to edit anything oh God” for a little while now as I enjoy my general Christmassing and New Yearishness trying to speed-read some very large books which I foolishly got out of the library without realising that I am not blessed with quite the amount of free time I had at 16.
I did however find the time to finish a long-term project that’s been chugging away forever:
The last few touches are being gently hammered out with a brick on publication of Heavy, but in the meantime, here is a lovely digital artwork of the Eastern end of the Thames in London, which took me absolute months and made Photoshop shit itself more times than I care to swear about.
If you’d like to see it at a larger size (and I advise that), go here and also look at the stuff you can buy it on, because I have to go and pay someone to drill more holes in my wretched teeth and my bank account is crying.
“Aren’t you meant to be plotting a novel right now?”
“Don’t you have a manuscript to edit?”
I just finished a pass, let me have five minutes.
“You’ve had rather more than f–”
I made an art. You can buy prints, if you are absolutely desperate to own a print of a bowl of rice rather than an actual bowl of rice. Personally, I would rather have the rice, but I’m very hungry. This particular rice was consumed after an exhaustive examination of the Tate Britain’s long-awaited & hotly-anticipated Queer British Art: 1861 – 1967. I should probably have an opinion on that, on here, at length, but to be honest I feel that drawing a bowl of rice is less contentious and contributes more to the world than me bellyaching about minor details in what is, regardless of my fussing and personal preferences, a splendid step in the right direction regarding the inclusion of queer history.
The business of posting the kind of content that belongs on a blog – ie, words – remains in limbo, it seems, although I have finished rewrites on a couple of stories so I’m going to lay undue blame at the feet of a minor exercise for my silence. Here are some pictures, instead: