Opening March 1st at Vertical Gallery in Chicago!
Vertical Gallery is excited to present a 'Surreal' group show. The show opens this Friday night, March 1st, from 5:00-8:00pm. The exhibition runs through March 23.
This show features an international roster of artists, many showing with us for the first time. 'Surreal' features: Adam Augustyn (US), Andie Taylor (AU), Candice Tripp (UK), Carlos Fdez (ES), Dan Lydersen (US), Danny J Martinez (aka Van Dam One) (US), Delta N.A. (IT), Ethan Price (US), Hendra HeHe (ID), JJ Zamoranos (PH), Jake and Josh (US), Jenia Cher (US), Joseph Renda Jr. (US), Kristin Kwan (US), Laura Catherwood (US), Millo (IT), Mr. Pinkbrush (US), Murmure (FR), Naoto Hattori (US), Nathan Durfee (US), Nicolas Nadja (US), Tom Erik Andersen (NO), Zach Schrey (US).
Address:
Vertical Gallery
2006 W. Chicago Ave #1R
Chicago, IL 60622
I don’t know how Gary Pressman managed to pull it off because our shipping rigmarole gave him mere minutes to get it show-ready, but he and the Copro team did it and I’m so grateful.
This canvas and I have been eyeballing each other since I began it in one of our lockdowns and I never knew where it would end up. The last strokes of paint were laid down in 2022. We stared each other down for another year and I finally called it good and had it photographed in 2023.
For a long time, it was hidden away and I didn’t show it to anyone, so I’m really happy that a sky full of demons will finally open today in the broad daylight of LA.
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It felt like there was a lot of skinning, gutting and peeling back this year. More than ever.
I usually gently lift the layers of whatever is in my hands to peer underneath or rather stick to the surface lest I do any irreversible damage.
I don't know if I just landed a more ragtag clutch of demons (landed/actively sought-out) of if I'm projecting, but my approach was generally "I'm sure you're better underneath all of this mouldering crap you call skin, let's peel you back and see who you really are".
If you'd like to know more about the process, there's a full video on Instagram:
]]>Vintage, bisque for the most part, otherwise porcelain. Stuffed with coconut coir.
They're not the easiest thing to verify in terms of origin and age, but most are from an 1880s Victorian excavation site of a 19th-century German ceramics factory.
I've got heads, bodies, booted feet and hands!
I'd love to say "from a loving home, carefully stored for decades" but these dolls bear the hallmarks of having been unearthed, forgotten, and sometimes laid alongside rusting materials. The intermediary hands have been, however, incredibly careful and treated these like the treasure they are.
They are rather, "due for a loving home".
I toyed with mounting these in boxes, but I'm of the opinion that if something can dangle, it should. Preferring to hang my own treasures, I decided instead to add a loop of a thread instead. You can still mount yours, but I didn't want to be the one putting a body part in a box.
Have I saved one to put on my own Christmas tree? YES. Will it be packed away for a year? Absolutely not. A tattooed baby doll is for all year round.
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Single colour hand-pulled 300gsm screenprint finished with a matt UV varnish
54.5cm x 44cm including 7cm border
Regular edition of 40
Hand-finished edition of 15
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Look at this; I'm accounting for my time.
June 22nd heralded the start of days edging back towards an unseemly, early darkness.
Being at the hottest, brightest point of the parabolic arc has caused that smell-the-hedgrows joy of summer to curdle into an uncomfortable, too-tight feeling that I don't have a project waiting for me when we settle back into the gloom.
This is likely all underlined for me as I count the minutes of evening light I have to chase surf in and know that they are officially in decline.
So; what have I got to show for the first half of this year and what will I do in the second part in a scrambling effort to make up for it?
I slipped, tripped and accidentally landed on a drawing that I thought would make for a good painting on scratchboard, which (shocker) I decided to use as a test for my first ever single colour screen print edition. This was never the plan, but in the absence of another, we're rolling with it. Fast.
Samples have been proofed, wheels are in motion and I'm really happy with how it looks.
I've also sent the "yes" email to adopt a small pop up space in Newcastle's Ouseburn for a week in mid December.
With that, I've finally kicked into Drive and my pulse has quickened. It's that delicious panicky "what if it's shit?" GO time that fuels me better than cocaine or a slow and steady commitment to a five year plan ever could.
Before that, mere minutes before, I was still bouncing erratically between palm-sized projects whilst crying with the aimlessness of it all. My studio feels assaulted with mock-ups and trials and who gives a fuck because I feel better now.
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The burst of energy that floats me through the actual carving process loses steam by the time I reach the polishing stage and dries up altogether by the time it is ready to be set.
My stone-carving head has to shift gears entirely into the silver-smithing mode and that is usually only going to happen once it has had a period of respite back at the easel or playing with gouache. Leaning in to my own roughshod creative energy can only be considered productive if the steady-state of "doing" is the end game.
If I don't feel like doing something, I'm as productive as a dinosaur in a tar pit. I have to run in the opposite direction to get far enough away from whatever it is that consumed 100% of my headspace in order for it to look appealing again. And back I crawl.
Distance makes the heart grow something, or whatever.
That being said, I have now carved, polished and set three new intaglios.
Enjoy:
]]>If anyone is finding that they are waiting a little bit longer than usual on receiving their orders, please sit tight. I stuck to Royal Mail's final posting dates and hope they they will be honoured, but have decided to cut short my final shipping dates because the most recent strike has caused a huge backlog of post and I couldn't in good conscience continue to offer Christmas deliveries if I felt unsure that they would reach their destinations on time.
I apologise for any delays and hope that you receive your goods soon.
International customers might not know that we in the UK had postal strikes in November that have had a knock-on effect to timescales, helped in no way by several more strike days in December.
I wanted to say a very heartfelt you for a wonderful end to the year.
2022 tried its best, but it hasn't squashed us yet.
I will be away from the studio from December 24th - January 18th, so please note that orders placed in that time will be not shipping until I am back.
]]>Please take note of final order dates for Christmas deliveries
UK - Dec 18th
USA - Dec 8th
Asia - Dec 6th
Canada, Czech Republic, Finland, Italy, Poland, Sweden - Dec 8th
Austria, Denmark, Germany, Iceland, Ireland, Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, Slovakia, Spain and Switzerland - Dec 11th
Belgium, France - Dec 13th
~ store closes from Dec 21st - January 17th ~
]]>Acrylic and ink on claybord,
45.5 x 61cm
]]>The She-Wolf was originally an intaglio design that I carved into a jasper disc.
I took impressions of it to check my carving progress; to see where detail needed to be added or enhanced and by the end of the project I liked the impression so much that I thought it would make a good pendant in the style of a Roman coin.
Click the video to watch the full reel on instagram ☝️
"S H E" is carved into the back. Without those three letters, it just didn't feel as powerful to me.
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Where your money will go: 100% of profits will go to aiding the Ukraine crisis; split evenly between the British Red Cross DEC Ukraine humanitarian appeal and IFAW's emergency support and evacuation assistance for animal shelters and the staff who have remained behind to provide care.
While IFAW also collaborates with other charities to aid refugees, they're one of the few animal-focused charities that I could find that are able to get aid into Ukraine.
The campaign launched on social media last week and I'm so happy to say that together we have raised £564!
The Observer's Book of Garden Flowers
Lapis Lazuli and Silver Skull Bracelet
Chrysoprase and Garnet Bird Earrings
]]>Just a heads up for those wanting gifts in time for Christmas:
12th: Canada, Czech Republic, Finland, Poland and USA
15th: Austria, Belgium, Denmark, France, Germany, Iceland, Ireland, Netherlands, Norway, Slovakia, Spain, Switzerland
21st: UK
]]>These demonic water imps inhabit the banks of rivers. Their limbs are frog-like, but they’re not entirely soft; both beaked and shelled, Kappas are wildly curious strategists and they travel in packs.
Sharply perceptive. Dangerous, frankly, but easily mollified with a humble offering of cucumber. Incredible that watery seeded flesh could stand in for people-meat, but these creatures will surprise you.
Not without weakness; if the dish-shaped depression on their crown ever dries out, their time is short.
They’re tranquil dreamers, yes, but they get hungry just like the rest of us. For this, they’ve shouldered an unfair amount of blame for watery deaths.
Sure, they’ve caused a few drownings over time. Maybe eaten the occasional child - but to their community, they are helpful, principled empaths.
Murderous, but incredibly polite.
They carried her up the mountain and left her there.
To die, yes, but also so that another could live.
When resources were scarce, senicide masqueraded as familial sacrifice.
Uba however, continued to climb, and long after her kin had perished, she climbed still; always pressing on.
She is the forsaken stoic who will triumph against the odds. Quietly self-assured. Doggedly moving upwards- but you won’t see her break a sweat. Her ambition is internal. It doesn’t foam at the mouth.
She possesses ruthlessly inhuman intelligence. At one with the earth, now less woman than she is animal, mineral or plant. Uba is the soul of the mountain itself and the master of her realm.
She protects her domain. Fellow inhabitants give thanks. Travelers should pay respect.
For what goes up the mountain doesn’t always come back down.
20th February - 20th March
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21st March - 20th April
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21st April - 21st May
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22nd May - 21st June
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22nd June - 23rd July
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24th July - 23rd August
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24th August - 23rd September
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24th September - 23rd October
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24th October - 22nd November
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23rd November- 21st December
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22nd December - 20th January
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21st January- 19th February
Remember though; dates serve only as a guide - you can choose the horror you want to be, not the monster you are..
]]>They come at night: the roving spirits of the restless dead in places where the air is thick and trees hang low.
They instinctively rebel against confinement. To put a barrier between yourself and a Haint only provokes a more ardent attempt to gain entry.
They want to be among the living and will pursue this beyond all reasonable means; through windows, down chimneys, between hitherto unnoticed cracks.
Naturally, their style of seeking company has left them stigmatised as creeping, cadaverous horrors - of this they are unaware. Most are sweet-natured things devoid of malice.
Haints are a broad group with many types. Whether they’re launching furniture across the parlour or hovering bedside to observe “sleep” they all have the capacity to shock.
It seems that the certifiably dead have all but forgotten the art of delicacy.
If you’re feeling an electric pulse in the air, you’re probably near a Tatzelwurm.
They know who they are and what they want and they won’t patronise you by being anything but utterly honest. These creatures are highly sociable but will happily retreat to their cave when the company ceases to thrill them.
Lesser beasts apologise and pretend not to know their strength.
Not the Tatzelwurm.
Everything about them is pointed. They’re whip-sharp, all fangs and claws and while the Tatzelwurm will be a beloved friend for life, their words can have the feeling of a cat scratch; hours after being dealt the blow, the wound will still sting. Did you ask for it?
You probably did.
They only assumed you could handle it.
True friends of the hybrid will recognise this as the compliment it is.
I was delighted to have the opportunity to show some of my Horrorscopes in the flesh. Both Nixe and Tailypo will be on display and for sale, framed.
Photo credit: Modern Eden Gallery
]]>I was given the opportunity to work on Julia Docouranu's second film and 2021's winner of the Palme d'Or at Cannes.
Watch it. You won’t know whether to look away in disgust or have a wank. There’s no higher praise.
Thanks again to Spencer Hickman at Deathwaltz Records and Mondo for giving me another gem to work on, I feel incredibly lucky and sexually confused.
Available as a pre-order now, right here
Numbered edition of 1000 featuring a 425gsm gatefold jacket house inside a bespoke die cut outer sleeve. Composed by Jim Williams, who also scored RAW and more recently, POSSESSOR.
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When your time ends and your addled self is thrown into the pool of bewildered lost souls, you’ll meet him.
He’s the steward of the underworld and the chaperone of the damned, shuttling between realms in an effort to clear limbo of its ever-filling glut of the dead.
Like any other dog, he needs a duty. To keep him moving is to provide him with a sense of purpose.
If he stops for too long, his own lack of belonging with overwhelm him and it will take a cosmic force to get him reluctantly upright again.
However, he handles his doomed charge with kindness and sends them smiling into the inferno.
He doesn’t like it when they scream.
Mother comes in two versions; one features her early in her motherhood cycle and the second depicts her later when she's swollen with a pearl egg sac.
Her life for yours.
Mother is a collection of parts, a perfect organic spawning machine and how she suffers for you; Due to centuries of reduced use, she no longer has a face or legs that can bear her weight. Fused fingers can scoop and swaddle. Auxiliary limbs prop her up.
Her existence is an endlessly pulsating thing, a divine connection funneling souls into the realm of the living.
Who she can’t protect, she can replace. Everything she is is for her young.
Her blood is your blood, her milk is your sustenance, she is the ever-producing god and universe to untold numbers.
She is life embodied, though she has none of her own.
Mother loves you.
Furred, but not furry. Mare is the colour of shade. Dark, not as a descriptive - but as an active occurrence; the creeping embodiment of anti-light. A vacuum of discernible topography.
And what a contradiction, because his disposition is pure levity.
Crawling the length of your body to perch on your chest, he will get as close to your unguarded mind as he can - all the better to sour your dreams in a game of psychic chicken.
He delights in the head-tossing and mumbled protestations of the unwilling participants in his sport.
Tear yourself awake, however, and the game is over; Mare will bid a sulking retreat beneath the floorboards or attic he leaked out of. He is quickly forgiven though and won’t hide for long.
Tomorrow is another night.
of Fire
When the days reach their peak and the night air is a humming balm of hedgerow scents, it is time to prepare an offering.
Midsummer’s Eve is her date to blaze and quid pro quo is the bedrock of her relationship with her supplicants.
A fiery elemental of savage benevolence; feed Ignis once and she will keep an entire village nourished through winter.
A nurturer at heart, she gladly enfolds her sacrificial lambs in flaming arms and smiles her reassurance that everything will be okay - a promise belied by her ever-running features and, in fact needing them to believe otherwise;
You see, she has been waiting all year for this
and screams are her protein.
of Blood and Bone
For the ancient societies that were wary of doubles, the Conjoined Twins were both an omen of doom and a cosmic conundrum; by being born fused together, they slipped the cultural net that would have seen them dispatched to the underworld.
This shrewd, shambling act sees the world for what it is and convincingly frames itself as a wonder. Great conversationalists and fast thinkers; don’t challenge them to a battle of wits.
Sought to be exploited, they use their perceived weakness as a power greater than normalcy. You can call them monsters, but you’ve got to buy a ticket first.
Sideshow performers, they are not. You’re in the presence of the grotesque headline act.
Loyal to the death.
Doomed to retire in modest comfort.
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