Friday, 16 January 2015

Off season holiday resorts.

Love them.

January in Malaga. I like it as far as off season holiday resorts go, but they are trying a little too hard to be 365. Sure, the weather is nice. It is OK. But, stop trying to sell a lie.

It just looks too sad for all involved.

Malaga is missing the point. Here is the point. They will never get it.

Who knows?

Thursday, 8 January 2015

Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole...

This one has been in my head since day 1 here in Malaga.

A few years ago I met a guy in Sitges. He must have been over 100 years old! He invited me back to his house for a drink and to see his collection of photographs. Totally fucking amazing!!! Pablo was a good friend of his. A collection of photographs of the collective of their day. All of them.

I will tell you why Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole; he was stinking rich (you should see his old house here). TBH his art doesn't really cut the mustard for me. I find it very emotionless and bland. Even the scary stuff is just a bit, well, meh.

I am painting in a traditional way with new materials. Putting a proposal together for windows of a very special hair salon. Mr Picasso never had to do this.

Working from this photo. I will `post the results another day.

Friday, 2 January 2015

My new look for 2015.

Well, it wasn't a bad year. In a bit of a hole now due to Two robbing episodes (little fucking cunts). Other than that, all is pretty good.

Rock and fucking roll. I found the earring on the street, so decided to open up an old hole. Why not?

--/yeah. I know/--

Thursday, 1 January 2015

Malaga Bad!

Like dealing with policia local here isn't bad enough. Beautiful city selling itself on it's artistic reputation, but they do not like artists here. They really do not like artists.

The bin men do not like artists. Three days work trashed by some ignorant cunt.

They had absolutely no reason to do this other than trash my work.

This is Malaga. Selling itself on a new rebuilt reputation, but trashing art as it is today. WANKERS.

So close to a new passport, then you get this. 

I am going top the papers tomorrow.

Monday, 29 December 2014

The Evolution of a Goddess.

Grand title in the context of an ongoing personal Project – it can be as grand as my imagination allows. Whilst times are hard I’m killing boredom by sketching ideas for new paintings onto floor board offcuts collected from a skip. This is this afternoons evolution:

I am returning to Steffi and the Prickly Pair. The first of many paintings based on conversations I have had with people. Projecting my imagination into a future they suggested, or even described, each painting losely represents a Goddess from a religious belief. It is good fun, and provides loads of scope for ideas and inspiration. The style is influenced by many. Perhaps mostly by the work of an artist a friend introduced me to just as I started to dabble with oils (Ken Kiff), and German Expressionist Art.

How to protect your eggs in a communal kitchen.

It is suggested you write your name on your food with your check-out date. I had a better idea. Nobody is going to fuck with my eggs. Eat. Drink wine. Then send email to beautiful friend letting them know you are thinking about them. Wake in the morning trying to ignore the embarrassment.

Somebody and their dog is going to be next Goddess. It is going to be fabulous on a large scale with a big story. In the meantime; how the fuck do I escape Malaga, get new passport and get to Ibiza? I am not going down well in Malaga. Perhaps Nerja is worth a try.

Saturday, 27 December 2014

Contact details.

Tlf: 689 744 929

This blog has proved to be very worthwhile as a 'business card'. I really need work NOW!

Anything. Don't want to read as being as desperate as I am, but, I bloody well need work right now. Christmas was more expensive than profitable.

Staying in Malaga until I have the €320 I need to get back to proper work.

Wednesday, 24 December 2014

Christmas Eve stroll about town.

Very quiet here. This is the way Spain is on Christmas Eve. Everybody is probably in church now. On a stroll around town I bumped into Josh. Interesting man. He made this art:

He explained to me how the seagull was still so fresh the insects hadn't started to spoil it. Took a while to twist the head of the body apparently. The brains are probably still fresh.

Whilst I was chatting with Josh (there were a Hundred stories to discuss on his bench - the seagull head art is just a small part) a mate appeared with a new friend. She was disgusted by the art. He was appaulled at me for introducing her to Josh's art. I think they missed what I saw, and what Josh saw. I mean, after all, wasn't the first ever Christmas card a picture of a dead robin bleeding into snow? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think this work by Josh would fetch a tidy sum presented in the right gallery/context.


Josh shook the orange tree and 64 oranges fell to the ground. 64 from such a small tree! 64 from a single shake!

Happy Christmas :)

I am doing yet another Christmas and New Year in a backpackers hostel. It is fun. Still no closer to replacing my passport, but at least I have a bed in a warm dry place. I am still getting fat whilst getting drunk.

There is something very wrong in this World. None of us can really be worthy of the solution. We can all try not to be a part of the problem. I mean; bloody hell - look at all those wasted oranges. There is at least 64 jars of marmalade there! 64 from such a small tree!

Tuesday, 23 December 2014

Saturday, 20 December 2014

A little bit of human interest.

I have avoided putting other people on my blog for some years now. But, we don't really care these days do we?

Mike and Kenny. Very nice people who are used to being posted on the net. Kenny is from Virginia, serving in Gibraltar - really nice, relaxed guy. Mike is from Carlisle and is currently heart broken. Nice people. Very nice people. Thank you to both for allowing me to publish you here. Thanks for the vodka and beer also ;)

Malaga beach.

Thursday, 11 December 2014


Another day. Another Dollar. Well €uro actually.

Monday, 8 December 2014

Malaga is very nice.

Much has changed for the better since I last visited. Here is a nice pic of nothing.

Sunday, 7 December 2014

Another day.

A little drunk last night!

Here is today's sketch.

I do not get on with MSG. I wish the chicken kebab shop warned me. Knocks me for 6 like a bad virus. No more kebab. I can barely breath. They are putting this shit in everything these days. It is shit.

Running a Malaga thread here for anyone interested. Strange bunch. Strange place, but they have given me good advice in the past, so I am going to annoy them ;)

Saturday, 6 December 2014

Here we we are.

Wednesday, 3 December 2014


In Malaga for a few days to replace stolen papers. As ever, any work of any description greatly appreciated.

Tlf- 689 744 929

Sunday, 30 November 2014

The magic waters of Durcal.

Almighty health giving powers and instant new hair apparently. That will teach me to go taking the mickey out of Andalucian cooking ;)

Hands up here. My own fault for being so gullible (drunk).

Friday, 28 November 2014


No photos. Sorry. Prehistoric PC and very slow ADSL. Another day.

Durcal is a village about 25KM from Granada. I love these little villages. No style. No chic. No bullshit. Just people making the most of what they have and enjoying it. Today is wet, windy and cold - "en tu's casa!". I have a plan for pudding.

Juan is doing something traditionally Andalucian. Everything in the pot at the same time to boil into a sludge. Easier to digest than it is to swallow.

I am doing pudding. Spain does cakes brilliantly. Other than that, pudding normally means flan.

You will need...

Some MaryJ. Don't waste your money on buds. Leaves and offcuts will do the job (something about the butter increases the THC uptake by a Million fold).

A pear for each person.
An egg for each person.
A little butter.
Egg yolks.

Fry your leaves in a little butter (in a frying pan). Simmer with a little milk. Add cinnamon.

In a pan, prepare the custard. Whisk the yolks with fine sugar. Simmer with some milk. DO NOT BOIL!

Fry the pears in a mix of butter and milk. Add a bit of salt, sugar and cinnamon as and when.

Pour the cannabis milk mixture into the custard pan. Make the custard (refer to the internet if you are not experienced).

When your pears have caramelised serve. Sleep well. Do not attempt anything other than sleep. Or, sex. Sex is good also. If you are lucky enough to share this experience with a beautiful woman wearing nothing more than a touch of Channel NÂș5 I am jealous. Enjoy.

Caramelised pears with marujana custard.

It is a variation on traditional English pudding. I have no oven, so all has to be prepared on hotplates. Pics will follow.

Nobody is going nowhere!!!

Saturday, 22 November 2014

An old favourite.

Paintings, or chocolates?

Steffi and the Prickly Pear (a long time ago).

"Hi Steffi. Hope all is good."

Friday, 21 November 2014

La Limonera Project.

I was recently introduced to a Limonera. I was also recently introduced to some chocolate.

La Limonera Project is a new project.


This is a game. It is called 'how to sell the World's most expensive chocolate'. Starts soon. Anyone can play.

Back to Ibiza.

Work please.
Tlf: 689 744 929

Wednesday, 12 November 2014

Smart phones and death.

Smart phones and death.

The fundamental affect smart phones are having on society. Somehow they have managed to turn the internet into something very insular and selfish. From a World of open information into a cosy little lie you choose yourself. Nice, but dangerous.

I spend the vast majority of my life on the street. I like it. My life is very simple - uncomplicated. I am a very happy and content person. Very little money, but priceless freedom. However, I am a bit preoccupied with ideas for making cash to take to America (cos' it is Merica and you need cash and stuff). Looking around me it seems there is still 'crisis'. Well, crisis for most, but the richest are 9% richer this year than last year. This means the rest of us are 9% poorer this year. The money hasn't vapourised - it is still there on paper at least. It is all going on smart phones, service fees, accessories and app's.

I have found a beautiful product. Amongst many other features it has 8GB of storage and the most fucking awesome sound you can imagine from a 4CM x 4CM x 4CM cube. Cute as, lovelly feel, perfect weight. Place it in the plam of your hand and you feel rich. After talking to the people who make them in China it seems I can buy each one for less than the cost of a packet of cigarettes. How do you sell an unbranded product like this online? The biggest selling factors are the sound and feel. How do you communicate intangibles like this on the net?

All the time I spend on the street I see many things. During the past few months I have witnessed exactly the same scenario Four times...

Young woman on moped (it has always been a young woman - this is not a sexist thing to say) approaching a pedestrian crossing, one hand on handlebar, one hand on smart phone Facebooking, or Twittering herself, or summat??? The roads are wet and greasy. The lights suddenly turn to red (from amber) and in a moment of panic she hits the front brake just as the tyre is making contact with the white bands of the pedestrian crossing on the road. Three times I have picked up the moped, stood it on the pavement, then returned to help the victim to her feet and brush her down. No more than cuts and grazes. A bit of bruising perhaps.

Exactly the same scenarion everytime. Last time I watched the moped skid along the road. It came to a halt against the guttering of the pavement still with the engine reving and humming. Picked it up. Turned the key to kill the engine. Put it on it's stand. Picked up the smart phone and walked towards the sprawled woman to help pick her up and dust her down. Oh shit! Deaded!!! Head so obviously dislocated from the rest of her body. Instant death at 10KPH. Shook me up a bit. I looked at her with that horrible feeling of shock, sadness and recognition of your own vulnerability and fragility. Life gone in a moment. Dead.

It matters nothing to her anymore. I considered the family and friends I do not know. The grief.

I went and bought a can of beer. Sat on a bench. Tasted the air and felt the sounds. Fuck the money. It will come when it has to - it always does. The people I see everyday make me smile. Make me happy. I tell them they are beautiful, because they are beautiful for making me feel very happy and lucky to be alive.

Life, death and smart phones and external speaker devices. I am bored with sketching street scenes. I want to sketch more naked women. Preferably living. Carelessness causes grief. People think I am irresponsible - I am not - I make it my job not to be responsible for anybody other than myself. If I kill myself with a smart phone I will only have myself to blame and nobody will miss me. Well, some might (hopefully). When I do eventually die (we all do eventually) I want to be fed to the fishes. You can think about me when eating your next kipper, or sardine, or other scavaging fish. It is the way I would like to be remembered. In the meantime, I am off to buy a can of beer and sit on a bench, and probably draw some more boring buildings. None of the girls I know here will get their kit off for me. I have a very fertile imagination mind. Sometimes dreams are better than reality - dreams rarely go wrong in a consequential way ;)