Not Dead Yet

skelly dancers
Skellies come home to roost

I not been slacking, been working hard, just have no idea to what end exactly. Flotsam adrift on a rising tide of meaningless madness.

Politics, well, politicians, seem absolutely determined to make themselves irrelevant, terrifyingly terrible, twatty and tangential, redundant reactionary, solipsistic narcissists.
Left and right.
Hello? There are things need doing, need dealing with, need facing, there’s so much shit we never got done and you act like it’s all tweaking and finessing like plastic Tony Blairs or teenage revolutionaries or S&M nazis … voguing and dancing on the edge of a fucking volcano.

There is still one person sleeping on a street tonight, there is still someone, this afternoon hiding from a bailiff, there is still a man who fears he is about to be deported, there is still a woman who’s afraid to go to the doctors because she’s sure that what she suffers from isn’t covered by our universal health insurance, there is still a child who didn’t want to go to school today because she knew that bully would be there, there is still the person who was crushed by the man who dismissed them for just being what they were born, there is still the family who can’t pay the rent, mend the car, pay the leccy or buy enough food for tea, there are still people who live in fear and pain so that other people can live in decadent luxury and empty boredom and we fuck about around the periphery. All in one of the richest countries on earth. We all know these are just choices.
There is still so much to do and we … I … try to make shit, make art. It is what I can do. My skill, my craft, my contribution. A fart in a strong wind.

The difference is that the right are in power all over the world and they’re poisoning our conversations, polluting our stories, shitting in our wells of wisdom, feeding our fears and numbing us with laser light show, gladiatorial glitz and vacuous apocalyptic glamour and horror trope nightmares.
And almost all of the institutions that we built to counter this shit (hello, BBC) have appeased and capitulated and lost themselves in irresponsible gurning, ironic, giggly posturing and suicidal anti-elitist role playing, we’re left to fend for and defend ourselves and our communities and our inheritance.

And so many fight, so hard and so beautifully and I laugh and cry and then curl up and die inside when I see how it flickers in the dark and is snuffed out. Or is just drowned out or not even heard or seen in our wonderful pluralist pathways and long tail logic, throttled by the algorithms of greed.
And so the brightest and the best (and I DO NOT include myself in that list) disengage and focus on the craft, the art, the long game, the dreams we shared and keeping the flame alive, focus on their own, what matters and lock down.

And this is not the black death, the hundred years war, the slave trade or the holocaust, the genocide of the Wild West or the monstrosities of empire, covid-19 is not the Spanish Flu of 1918 and Andrew Windsor is not Harold Shipman … but it ain’t a competition either is it? And that’s not incense.

But this is our time, our responsibility, our world … what are we to do?
Us, people? We do what we do. What we can do. Physical, psychological, social, economic, educational, temporal, emotional constraints being given.
Well, we don’t give up, we live all our allotted days and then we die.

And I make pictures: it’s what I do. It’s all I can do. I’ve tried. And every hour I spend doing that is not spent feeding the insatiable machine of capital so I not making things much worse.
And I like to see my drawings a certain size. One of the reasons I paint them. My computer’s monitor fills my field of vision at 50cm, my paintings take up about the same field at 150.
So, if you’ve come here from Facebook or Instagram on a phone and you’re using a lap or a desk top, you’re in for a new experience … not exactly a surprise and not exactly transcendental either but, hey.

So I’ve made a sort of rolling gallery of my attempts, sketches, ideas — Here.
I’ll update it as I make more stuff — please comment, argue, advise, check in regularly or look at my stuff on Instagram or just enjoy.

I have no idea what I’m doing, making it up as I go along, as are we all, but I do believe it matters. It will make a difference; like the beat of a butterfly’s wing. There will be consequences, however small.
Maybe I just choose to believe.

Something has to hold.

2 replies on “Not Dead Yet”

Yes, it does matter; it does make a difference. I’ve shared your post on Facebook on my Timeline and I’ll let you know if there any comments. I will reference you — with a link to your webpage — in my upcoming blogpost about the talented authors and artists that I have met in my seven years in this Penwith location. Thank you for sharing your work and I have really enjoyed seeing your talent.

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