Tuesday, 20 December 2011
Monday, 19 December 2011
Sunday, 18 December 2011
Saturday, 17 December 2011
AD-VENT 17/12/2011
CHRISTMAS.
There's been a gap in my indispensable blog; my excuse is below.
I couldn't be arsed to get any further with the ad-vent project due the Black Dog arriving because of witnessing the seething masses duped by corporate greed, the family-based guilt of it all, hollering tv adverts (especially the perfume and supermarket ones - I shudder every time they're on), the stupid packaging - imagine the landfill, the pressure of of excessive cretin-card use, packed supermarkets, celebs wheeled out onto tinselly tv game shows for absolutely no reason, the packs of rabid, drunk-out-their-minds, chlamydia-ridden office workers vomiting, shouting and pissing in the street, the panic buying, the religion and the pure, bewildering ugliness of it all.
I must admit, though, that I did slip over in the drizzly early hours of Soho, slightly worse for wear after my studio party, only to be helped to my feet by a prostitute who proceeded to pickpocket my cards, cash and dignity, but I still had the nous to pickpocket her back, so that was OK then; it was my Christmas present to myself. She said "Oi! Wotchcoo fink you is doin'?"
I said "getting my money and cards you just took off me, you terrible, terrible whore."
A pause, then: "well, nah you got your money back, jew fancy goin' somewhere?"
I said "getting my money and cards you just took off me, you terrible, terrible whore."
A pause, then: "well, nah you got your money back, jew fancy goin' somewhere?"
Secular paradise next year anyone?
Merry Christmas to one and all!
Saturday, 3 December 2011
Friday, 2 December 2011
Thursday, 1 December 2011
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
Monday, 28 November 2011
Idiot
I just found the envelope with three postcards I was supposed to send to the RCA for the 'Secret Postcards' exhibition - I would have sworn I sent it but damn. Found it under a pile of fairly rubbish drawings. So I'll scan and un-secretly blog them later so if anyone wants to make an offer (doesn't matter how much but pounds, not pence, please) then I'll give the money to the RCA for their fund-raiser for the fine art department.
What an idiot.
What an idiot.
Friday, 25 November 2011
Some Incredibly Important News I simply Must Share.
This recent world-changing series of drawings will soon come to an end. At last, thank God, so I'll be putting new shorter projects up in the near future. Before that (even though nobody's reading this), I'm going random and will write a bit more. I want to describe the perfect shave at the local Turkish barbers; what fun can be achieved by reading the newspaper and listening to the news at the same time (and the text-based outcome); random drawings, random scanned litter, random photographs. Time to free up and breathe. Not that anyone cares particularly but that doesn't matter really. What does? Here's something that also doesn't matter but happened this afternoon when I bought a scarf and may or may not be funny:
"I'll take this one please."
"Good choice if I may say so sir."
"Er yes - thanks. I'll pay by card please."
"Ok sir, here we go." There was a brief pause as the machine read my card. "If you could tap in your pin number, that would be awesome sir." That tipped me over the edge.
"Awesome? Awesome - what is 'awesome' about tapping in my pin number? The parting of the Red Sea was 'awesome'; huge herds of Wildebeest migrating across the Serengeti is 'awesome'. Tapping in a fucking pin number is not at all, in the slightest bit, 'awesome.'"
He looked a bit wary and hurt and I immediately felt rude and regretted my appalling rebuke.
"Sorry - I haven't had a cigarette or a pint in two weeks. Bit tense."
"I understand sir."
"Have a good weekend. Lovely scarf. Don't bother wrapping it - I'll wear it. Really er, lovely scarf."
"Thank you sir - you too."
Oh dear.
"I'll take this one please."
"Good choice if I may say so sir."
"Er yes - thanks. I'll pay by card please."
"Ok sir, here we go." There was a brief pause as the machine read my card. "If you could tap in your pin number, that would be awesome sir." That tipped me over the edge.
"Awesome? Awesome - what is 'awesome' about tapping in my pin number? The parting of the Red Sea was 'awesome'; huge herds of Wildebeest migrating across the Serengeti is 'awesome'. Tapping in a fucking pin number is not at all, in the slightest bit, 'awesome.'"
He looked a bit wary and hurt and I immediately felt rude and regretted my appalling rebuke.
"Sorry - I haven't had a cigarette or a pint in two weeks. Bit tense."
"I understand sir."
"Have a good weekend. Lovely scarf. Don't bother wrapping it - I'll wear it. Really er, lovely scarf."
"Thank you sir - you too."
Oh dear.
Thursday, 24 November 2011
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
Monday, 21 November 2011
Saturday, 19 November 2011
Friday, 18 November 2011
Thursday, 17 November 2011
The Banker Spoiler on the 149
Tell me - why is there always someone who spoils it for everyone? Lovely quiet book readers on the rare sedated 149 bus going south to Borough for a book launch and we get to The City and then Booming Over-Bred Dickhead Banker gets on and thunders into his G4 about absolutely nothing of any consequence whatsoever to, like, a friend of his? I turn 180 and stare at him and he blanks me so I keep staring at him and I can tell he starts losing the thread because his concentration levels are by now ever so slightly diminished. He can't look at me but starts to blush and stumble on his words and his interestingly stiff and elevated hair flattens itself in shame as if it wants to disown him, escape even, but it can't because it's attached to his thick over-gelled skull, and then, magically, his expensive ill-fitting clothes slowly unwrap themselves from his young, pudgy, over-ripe body and make their way downstairs eagerly waiting for the next stop. This is making him look even more stupid as he sits there naked with rich tears tumbling down his ruddy well-fed cheeks. By now, folk are pointing and laughing at this turgid mess. It's marvellous. I wonder how far he has to go? London Bridge please! All those people...
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
Monday, 31 October 2011
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Saturday, 15 October 2011
Friday, 14 October 2011
It's A Beautiful World Cover
graphite, coloured pencil, acrylic, ink, oil monoprint, A4 paper, scan, Photoshop (very slightly).
If you don't like these drawings there's nothing I can do. Unglibly, unslickly, do let me know why.
©Paul Davis 2011
Unfortunately Back From Italy And Introducing The Next Episode In This Never-ending Battle For Recognition
Now back in London and I have to say I'm really looking forward to the perpetual overhead duvet of gloom that'll be above us weeping occasionally pretty much every day until late May/early June. So to keep busy and to show my six or seven close friends that I'm easily the best and most thoughtful person on this planet, I'll be posting a 30-odd page book called 'It's A Beautiful World' over the next few days/weeks/years/never. I do hope you seven gorgeous friends, you septet of loveliness, you coalition of joyousness, you gang of bastards, enjoy it - and even if only one of you like it, it makes it worthwhile (like fuck). It's a positive book full of wisdom and insight and laughter.
Obviously these drawings aren't commissioned; they are again unpublishable in today's market (unless you have the balls to do it). Coffee table book on The History Of Banality anyone? Would you like a pointless authorised eighteen year-old celebrity autobiography (part one of one I pray) ghosted by some talentless hack dancing on the coat-tails of someone else's primped and appalling fame flapping the remittance advice of his obscenely huge advance in his sweaty, dirty little palm?
Or this book, this uncovering of my soul, this baring of my distilled existence? I'ts obviously for sale so stop thinking of something interesting to Tweet or posting a photo of an interesting deformity and let's do something - it's simple: I can give you my bank details and off we go. Everything else has failed: the politeness, the bowing, the buying of lunches, the biting of the corporate pillow, so even though it's not really in my character to ask, I want something back and I want one of you, out there, to help me.
Obviously these drawings aren't commissioned; they are again unpublishable in today's market (unless you have the balls to do it). Coffee table book on The History Of Banality anyone? Would you like a pointless authorised eighteen year-old celebrity autobiography (part one of one I pray) ghosted by some talentless hack dancing on the coat-tails of someone else's primped and appalling fame flapping the remittance advice of his obscenely huge advance in his sweaty, dirty little palm?
Or this book, this uncovering of my soul, this baring of my distilled existence? I'ts obviously for sale so stop thinking of something interesting to Tweet or posting a photo of an interesting deformity and let's do something - it's simple: I can give you my bank details and off we go. Everything else has failed: the politeness, the bowing, the buying of lunches, the biting of the corporate pillow, so even though it's not really in my character to ask, I want something back and I want one of you, out there, to help me.
Sunday, 2 October 2011
Thursday, 29 September 2011
Tuesday, 27 September 2011
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