Pigeon Prime Time



The sill of serenity brings forth flowers.

I occasionally feed the pigeons. They come to my sill in the evenings when I myself am fed. Over the past couple of years of doing this I have come to recognize a few of the regulars: there is Flappy, who flaps his wings at the window (as if trying to jump through it); there is Mohican, so called because he looks very weathered and has a mohican when it rains; and there is Howard, so called because of the stern look he almost always gives me when I catch him spying on me. 
And this is the thing. In the evening, I work in my kitchen near the window when I am drawing or cutting out stencils. I also work standing up. This puts me right next to the window sill, where occasionally a lone pigeon will be found, lost in thought, regarding my efforts with curious precision. I can see them out of the corner of my eye watching me work. They are mesmerized by and large as if a child is watching television. They cock their little heads in curiosity as they regard these strange implements in my hand and what I do with them. I often wonder how they see us, when we have things in our hands (a pigeon never lifts anything except with its beak and even there it is limited as to what it can actually lift or hold). How are these extensions seen? As part of the body? As limbs? Or is there little thought going on except where food and the essential is concerned? 

What I do know is that even though they might be watching television as in viewing me through a screen (the window) and being mesmerized by these strange goings on, they never watch it long enough to the point where they starve. They also watch this strange pantomime standing up. If I haven't acknowledged them and opened the window to indicate a possible feed, they won't stay there for much longer than half an hour. But during that half hour, it's pure pigeon prime time.





 Mohican


 Flappy (and Mohican on far left)



 Howard 

Barbie Doll & Dummy



Never go full retard...

Bombing The Bridge Over The River Kwaide

Like the bamboo bridge over the River Kwai, Bell's Bridge over the River Clyde is a sturdy structure. Yet, as we all know with all man-made structures, and especially with that Kwai-straddling bamboo span, they are not immune to bombing...











And so, soon after, maybe a week or so, graffiti removal guy comes along and wipes the slate clean but as usual it's a half-hearted affair and so I decided to mock the poor guy even more...




I don't mind GRG removing the narcisstic teenage scrawling - it's a bloody eyesore and tells us nothing other than the tale of yet another ego-obsessed clown.... But leave the good stuff...

Or else.




 Vinz, John, and Spud.

 Modern Life: Getting shot in the head, more getting shot in the head, and crack.




Plenty of foot traffic from all quarters... Bell's Bridge is a fine site for the aspiring street artist who wants to impart a little wisdom upon the ever-descending IQ of the masses. And it's only five minutes from my gaff.




































Self-Publishing on the City's Walls


It seems ridiculous to have fraudsters and liars preaching to us via 20 foot high lettering and billboards the size of football pitches. Whether banks with dubious pasts or pornographic websites who are attempting to normalize perversion through their clever and creative wording (lying), we are, if we live in a city, being constantly raped by advertisers and their shit mendacious messages.

Recently, just along the expressway, two huge electronic advertising podiums were installed to target the car-drivers. Right beneath one of them is an underpass which sees a lot of graffiti (most of it narcissistic and without any clear message). It was here that I put up my first stencil, a simple image of Vinz (from the film La Haine) pointing his fingers (gun style) at the mirror with a single word beneath: Capitalism.

Out of all the graffiti there, only this one was removed by the council-sanctioned idiot who is charged with graffiti-removal. The others were left intact because they displayed a happy friendly image of the world, colourful, smiley, artistic....

I was irritated by this. Here, we have state-sanctioned billboards promoting tosh (and renewing the capitalist quagmire) in 20 foot lettering, and here's poor little revolutionary me writing a tiny stencil in letters half an inch high. I suppose I should be proud, that these tiny letters have managed to irk someone so much that they have erased it from existence. It reveals a lot about the conventional mindset of state-sanctioned people....

At any rate, I went back the next week and did eight stencils where the single one had been... 

Idiots get to learn the hard way.