The Dreams

Living Walls

Filler, Acrylic Gel, Duct Tape, Cement Pigment, Black Acrylic Paint on Board

Polystyrene Ceiling Tile and Acrylic Paint on Board

Polystyrene Ceiling Tiles, Enamel Paint, Heavy Body Acrylic Paint on Board





Polystyrene Ceiling Tiles, Acrylic Paint, Spraypaint, Mixed Media on Board

Bad Cartoons of Dreadful Places

Auto - Resentment

The box of temporary England-themed tattoos displays a black haired muscular man in football shorts. Clear skin, no scars, tattoos, no beer belly, and an overwhelmed blonde woman swooning into his arms. The gap in reality is devastating. Makes me nauseous as it swirls round in my the back of my brain like a thick pale soup. Greasy tea, egg, sausage. All becoming liquid and slipping away, leaving its filmy lubricant on my tonsils.

The Prices in biro on grubby little stickers. A camera set. The colourful packaging faded and askew inside the clear plastic. Made so by cretinous re-packing. Worth twelve pounds. The fuck it is. Nauseating misinterpretation again. Fail. Liquorice allsorts, foam strawberries, baby wipes. Even if for some demented reason you actually remembered that this place sells these things, you wouldn't be able to get them here again. My passively chomping mouth. Forget the whole nightmarish display.

Heads shaved at the sides. Marginally more hair on top. Heads like fire extinguishers. Angry Almond eyes in white european faces behind the sauces.


I found the browny red skeleton of a car seat on the nearby beach and dragged it home with the jaded permission of fathers. Apparently it doesn't matter where you are, South East London or the last English beach before Wales from Somerset, you can still find the blasted evidence of motor rejection. Automobile-Resentment. The childlike anger, paranoia and insecure abuse of inanimate objects.

When I was very little I couldn't be persuaded by parents or otherwise that roadside signs, empty drinks cans, pebbles from the beach, electricity cabinets didn't have silent personalities. I recoiled in horror at their paralyzed lives. How terrible to be a car tyre, to have your face pressed into the tarmac for what must seem like eternity. The arbitrary presence of a sofa. To have no reason for being there, without being able to leave nonetheless. Rigid and out of place. Leaning and dismayed. I've felt like a piece of furniture at times.

I saw other kids doing this too. Hoarding. Sympathy for objects. Sweet wrappers, drinks cans, broken machinery. It's toys that teach us this. Invest in the personality of the plastic or dye cast metal. Value them. Don't swap them with or sell them to other kids. Naturally this concept is applied to everything we got our snotty hands on. Why wouldn't it be? Abstraction is instinct.



Either go the whole way or not at all. The whole set, home, car, family, stability, all the assets, or I drive my car onto a beach or into a field by the railway tracks and torch it. To convince myself I can take it or leave it. An exercise of power. An interaction, a material worship beyond simple desire. A sad and lonely fetish, Auto-resentment.