Christmas shopping.

I got stuck into Christmas work in September this year, doing this thoroughly sparkly stuff for Sean and Annie at the fantastically-named Fox Kalomaski Crossing - which sounds either brilliantly made-up, or straight out of Mad Men. Either way, must be great to tell people you work there.

Gloucester Quays is a big shopping centre and as such, its life will revolve around Christmas. I'm not hugely into shopping (only for certain things which may or may not have a MAC logo on them - the eyeliner kind AND the OSX kind) but I did really enjoy doing this outrageously glittery tree and pile of presents, and was charmed by what their animation team did with the Christmas logo I designed for them. I love seeing my normally static work leap into action, especially where it involves tinsel.

If it seems vaguely familiar, FKC were partially inspired by the colours of my Co-op Christmas campaign which ran for three years, and has sadly now come to an end. But clearly, its legacy lives on! You can see the shopping centre itself here.

Booze for free.

I've just got a copy of this book I did the cover for earlier this year, by Andy Hamilton.

We're a long way from self-sufficiency, but we're working on it - we've had the gas disconnected and we heat the house and water with wood instead. We've been buying our vegetables from a farm half an hour down the road for the last ten years or so, always organic, always amusingly miss-shapen, always delicious, we did the biodiesel thing for years, and I make my own skin cream…well, like I said, we're not there, but we try to make the right moves in that direction!

The book tells you how to make intriguing-sounding brews such as Broad Bean Wine, Pine Needle Cordial and Nocino, an Italian green walnut cordial. None of them are complicated, or fussy; you just need to focus, keep your kit clean (most of which you'll have at home) and most importantly have some space at home to store the fermenting oceans of potential goodness. Our friend Simon does this already, and his recent birthday cider was impressively cloudy and delicious, needing maybe a little longer in hibernation, but certainly a shouder-softening testament to what can be done with some foraged apples, water and patience.

Here's the artwork for the book, along with an alternative version which didn't make the cut, and a place to buy it!

http://www.guardianbookshop.co.uk/BerteShopWeb/viewProduct.do?ISBN=9781905811700

 

Grayson Perry's bike.

We went to the British Museum to see the whole of this exhibition, The Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman, but spent so long looking at the bike we ran out of time to get into the main show. We're definitely going back - but check the bike!

The whole thing was custom made, with Grayson's own teddy bear, Alan Measles, riding in his own shrine on the back. Actually Alan was replaced by a stunt double who had to be auditioned…but you can read about all that here

http://www.britishmuseum.org/whats_on/exhibitions/grayson_perry.aspx

Grayson himself seems an amazing bloke. I don't think anyone like him has ever existed!

Signs of Occupation.

We visited the Occupy London camp at St Pauls' a couple of days ago, and I was struck by the way in which messages which need urgent visual transmission trigger a whirlwind of improvised creativity.

These signs were made with whatever was to hand, and not, I doubt, at a comfy wooden desk like the one I'm sitting at, with the telly on and my bed upstairs waiting. The typography's great. Never mind the message, enjoy the clutching of Stanley knife, aerosol, crayon, cardboard, fabrics and tape. And interestingly, I didn't spot a single spelling mistake. I'm not even sure I found any rogue or absentee apostrophes.

I wish I could 'name the plants', but the illustrations are a bit... vague. Ten out of ten for the idea though!

http://occupylondon.org.uk/

Adventures with Dick and (Sarah) Jane.

It's not very often we have somebody for a whole week at the Inkymole studio. We have the accounts lady Anne who comes in once a week, and punctuates her forensic accountancy with button-buying, politics and cats juggling sausages on YouTube. We have the occasional student. We've had a series of magic helpers who come and join us in the lead-up to a show or special event. And of course we've had no choice but to share the workspace with an endless stream of tradesmen, craftsmen and engineers of all sorts over the last two years.

But it's not like we ever get a MATE to come round and do homework with us. Homework which is the same but different - like being at the same school at the same time but in different art classes.

Which is actually what happened to me and Richard Hogg. Two years apart at school is a gulf, the sort of gulf that ensures you'll never cross paths (unless you have a sibling who bridges the gap and grants you a portal to 'the other level'), but we did go the same school at the same time, and did art. We remember only one mutual schoolmate's name, but apart from that, a sixth-form girl and a fourth-year boy would rarely speak, unless it was to hurl rudeness over the balcony.

Richard grew up in Hinckley but moved to London to do his degree and has lived there ever since. The chance to come back to stay with family and draw on our walls was eagerly accepted, and we're so glad it was. It was a completely new experience to work alongside another illustrator - whose day-to-day hassles were the same but different - and to watch another full-time creative person's day progress and take shape.

It's reassuring to see there's an equal amount of buggering about. There is the same time spent emailing. The same pacing and tea-brewing. And the pie-chart of the illustrator's time, were it to be scribbled out, would have roughly equal chunks marked 'Googling', 'food' and 'worrying'.

I liked watching Richard work, but tried not to stare. Or copy. Which is easy too do when you're a fan. They say every day's a school day, and during the week we were allowed to look into his sketchbooks and his toolboxes, and bits of his brain. We all had our work to get on with of course, so every pause to look at newly-Googled 'thing' or put on a record was chastened by a feeling that 'we need to get on', but the work flowed, in a surprisingly grown-up kind of way. We even stopped for lunch and boiled sweets every day. And only played Richard's game a bit.

Wacom notes were exchanged, Illustrator tips begged; iPhone games discovered and new colours investigated. Chips were eaten and soup was made. And we were ready an hour early.

From behind her invoices, a watchful Anne In Accounts declared Dick 'a bad influence', but only because our days must have reminded her of me and my best mate 'doing homework' together after school, and doing it in spite of a massive stream of continual distraction (yep, she's my Mum). I weathered Dick's cheerful jibe that it was interesting to see 'how little work other illustrators do' (ahem, well I WAS running about preparing for a show and you DID keep showing me animal videos) but it was interesting, actually, to simply see 'how other illustrators do'.

Cheers Dick! Come again.

You can read about the show itself here: www.factoryroadgallery.net and see the show in this gallery: http://gallery.me.com/inkymole#100021 and pumpkin carving the next day: http://gallery.me.com/inkymole#100028

Our next show in the Factoryroad Gallery is...

www.h099.com
Opening night Friday 21st October, from 6.30pm.
More gallery information here: factoryroadgallery.net
Richard will be taking over the wall space of Factoryroad Gallery with his brushes and paints!
Richard is an artist and designer who also makes videogames such as Poto and Cabenga, Frobisher Says and  Hohokum. Originally from Leicestershire, this will be the first time he is showing his work in the town since his A-level exhibition (he got a B). He currently lives in Crystal Palace, South London. Richard used to be a part of the notorious design company Airside. He is also in the band Satan's Cock. 

And if we are very fortunate, he may also be wowing us with his world-famous pumpkin carving skills.
His work is sprightly and charming, and never fails to plaster a smile on our faces!

RSVP please - since this is a working studio as well as a gallery space, we need you to let us know if you're coming. Thanks!

Thank you Mr Jobs.

The Secret Members' Show, or How I fell In Love With Ink Again.

I'm an illustrator, which means I'm a pen-wielding gun for hire; proficient at answering briefs, often to short deadlines; navigating the demands of as many as sixteen clients at once (that's my record to date) and firing work out of the studio like so many curlicued ping-pong balls.

I can do this for months on end, but it takes its toll. You see I love doing books covers, and adverts, and packaging, but there's an itch that constantly waits to be scratched until an opportunity arises. It can only wait so long before the equilibrium begins to distort, and the urge to create some personal, entirely self-generated work becomes all-consuming. Like any bodily need - thirst, sleep, hunger, sex - if this is continually denied, I start to feel physically out of sorts.

 

So. When Leigh and I - in our capacity as curators of Factoryroad - wrote the brief for our Secret Members' Show, I knew there was a chance to do something I rarely get the time to do: express...and play.

The brief was thus:

"As you’re already aware we would like you to grace our new gallery with your interpretation, celebration, homage, tale or observation of the male member.

Be aware this isn't some 'just for laffs', cheesy feminism show; it has nothing to do with girl power or porn or Ann Summers. Neither is it a sombre acknowledgement of the weapon of mass production/oppression shared by the fairer sex.

No! This is a celebration of each creative female's feelings about this extension of the males who have coloured their lives, or which inspired the exchange of stories. Only female creatives are taking part.

The subject is apolitical, universal, timeless; it is variously a symbol of hope, new life, love, but also of war, fear, threat and oppression. They can be funny, characterful, and as unique as the men who wear them."


I did three pieces for the show itself, but the collection was held together by the poster. Since the subject matter was to remain secret to everyone but the participants, I wanted it to hint at peeping, vaudeville, burlesque, Victorian pornography, but also craftsmanship and exuberance. It was all hand-drawn at A2 in black Talens Ecoline ink with a variety of nibs, and a 0.2 and 0.3 fineliner for the very small type, on Fabriano 230gsm 100% recycled paper. The RSVP hand and the 'censored' little boy were also drawn in pen and ink.

It took three days, and with the exception of the three show pieces themselves - one video essay, one sculpture and one large-scale drawing in coloured pencil - I can't remember enjoying a piece of work this much in years.

Here's the original A2 art, done in one take - no digital, just planning, patience, and the odd little blob of Tippex:

 

Here's the little boy having his tender eyeballs protected (the show was thoroughly 'unsuitable for children'):

 

And for the postal invitations, I added a simple serif font (Niew CroMagnon) and rejigged the elements. The motif was used on all the information panels, the welcome poster, the tea towel wrappers and the leaflets. We've hung the original, appropriately enough, on the Victorian door of the bathroom.

You can read about the show and its opening night on the Factoryroad Gallery website, and see most of the work. If you would like a print of the piece, please get in touch.