Wednesday, 11 February 2009

Badly Drawn Boy

Badly Drawn Boy..

Stumbling across my old mood boards inspired me to do this sketch the other night. I was never the best draughtsman in the class but that never stopped me from being passionate about art. As a child growing up in Newcastle, my grandmother always used to encourage my artistic bent. I've always thought of her as my guardian angel, god rest her soul. She'd always buy me heaps of colouring books. My absolute favourites had outlines of images on blank pages. You'd wet a brush and apply it to the page and as if by magic, parts of the image would burst into colour. My grandmother once told me a funny story. I'd been left to my own devices upstairs. It seems the artist in me was no longer satisfied with the confines of a mere sketch pad. So what did I do when I ran out of paper? I glanced up at her vast, pristine white walls and decided that they would be my canvas. She came upstairs to find a charmingly naive mural in wax crayon all over her white walls.

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