Another east-coast novelty arrives and fades layering fresh glazes into memory of swoops and arcs, of undeterminable chattering acceleration across the surfaces of a sea come alive, its writhing undulations an ephemeral space exploited by few as stage, as canvas, as tapestry; clandestine soloists or the more gregarious exhibitionists. Revelers, artists and illustrators loosening their terrestrial fetters for the dance.
Digging deep in a slowly rotting cardboard apple box over the weekend (“hmm… I know I’ve got a jew’s harp/U-nail/L300 tail-light bulb/packet of alfalfa seed… in here somewhere) I pulled out a yellowed A4 envelope containing a stack of old stencils. Crikey, circa 2002 I reckon and last pulled by hand on a wobbly table set up in a garage somewhere on the great Sunny Hoax. It makes me smile to recall a little stack of crisp home-printed tees and behind them the trail carnage that created them.
Well, why not get a few inked again? My smile got wider.
A small run of tees has been done and mailed out. If you’d like to get your hands on one let me know.
€15 – includes postage.
Give me a shout if you’re interested.