I’VE SEEN THE FUTURE AND IT ISN’T PRETTY…

He came seemingly out of nowhere. Materialising before me as I attempted to get to grips with the paint and the knife. Out of my comfort zone using a material I hadn’t used for over a decade. It was frustrating yet incredibly satisfying. But who the hell was he? He looked rough and traumatised whoever he was. 

He began to reoccur in the work. Each time reincarnated into some new often disturbing scenario. Over time I began to ask the question, could this tearful, balding soul be me? Is this the onset of my own mid-life crisis? A self indulgent, cliched response to the loss of youth, hair and time? It was an unnerving prospect. 

I’ll be honest, I considered killing him off but as I’ve spent more time in his company, I’m finding his presence intriguing, even amusing. He has an inspiring resilience and possesses a zero fucks defiance. Attributes which really only age can bestow. I’ve come to the conclusion that I like having him around. He’s not going to become the sole focus of my work. I’m not that self involved but I’d like to see where he goes. What adventures he’ll have. Perhaps he’ll get younger the older I get? My very own Benjamin Button.