Seaside Escapes
Here is a little thing I made a million years ago, a graphic trying to capture the enchanting moment of being beside the sea in a seaside town.
That paper boat, flying the Union Jack, looks like it is just about to sail off into the great wide open. Perhaps this is the very spot where The Owl and the Pussycat set sail from?
God damn it to a whorehouse of shit.
Circa 2010, I was in my house on the top of a mountain in the Aravis region of the French Alps. There was a metre of snow outside, and yet somehow the postman managed to get a parcel to our door. It was a book, sent by a dear friend back in England, The Letters and Correspondence of Marcel Duchamp.
That made for a fantastic winter read. One correspondence really stuck out and made me laugh. An artist had written to Duchamp at length about their process, potential collaborations, and what they wanted to achieve. Duchamp’s entire, delicious reply was simply: "Non bordel de dieu."
This phrase, which is likely a garbled version of a very vulgar French oath, means something far stronger than "Absolutely not," roughly translating to, "God damn it to a whorehouse of shit." I love the sheer, magnificent rudeness of the response, it is all he wrote. It started with me, and I later used it as the name of a zine I made.
#PlumeFilms #ArchivedStory #MarcelDuchamp #ArtHistory #ZineCulture #FrenchAlps #CreativeProcess #HandmadeFilm #NonBordelDeDieu
Collage has always brought me a lot of pleasure, so here is a little something from the archive. This piece was made the proper way, with real paper, real glue, and real scissors. It is reminiscent of a game of typewriter tug of war we used to play back in the day. Fortunately, my friend and I had identical, huge, beautiful machines which could hold three sheets, which was particularly exciting. Anyway, we placed these typewriters on skateboards with their backs to each other and then threaded through some wallpaper.
A marker is set and then the game commences. The game requires a certain ode to the American beat poets and automatic writing.
Every time you finish a sentence of your poem, you would click the arm and the paper would feed into the typewriter, and slowly you would battle your way to the conclusion.
\#PlumeFilms \#HandmadeCollage \#AnalogueArt \#PaperAndGlue \#CutAndPaste \#ArchivedArt \#Typewriter \#VintageVibes \#ArtisticJoieDeVivre
This haunted fellow was initially just an opacity layer meant for dappled sunlight across J M W Turner's face. When I turned off several other layers, I was left with this wonderful, unexpected mask.
\#digitaldiscovery \#accidentalart \#digitalpainting \#layering \#mask \#haunted \#unexpectedcreation \#artprocess \#turner \#opacity
The daily joy of design. The best pieces are often the leftovers, accidental layers and scribbles that demand to be saved. Finding the real art in the digital outtake.
A little piece of art as a time capsule. I carved this lino print during a period of transition a few years back, when I was thinking about what I wanted to build next after a particularly challenging professional chapter.
