a little later than planned, my new year post. wishing you all a healthy, peaceful and creative 2016.
december in the english countryside, dead pheasants are hanging everywhere. on people’s front doors and gates, left by someone who’s shot too many and thinks the recipients would be glad of a roast. yes, a little shocking but true and there they are hanging in all their beauty or lying on the side in someone’s kitchen or at the butcher’s. they run across the road in front of cars in the lanes, no flight, a stupid weaving like a drunk across the path of oncoming cars. everywhere and I didn’t think about it really except that I find them beautiful even when no longer alive. for awhile at least. and there’s a tradition in ‘art’ to paint them. my sketchbook is full of them. here is a selection of monoprints, drawings and paintings. I’m wondering what it means and hope to find out as I carry on.