Racing bubble (2020)

Original Acrylic on canvas measures 67/67cm hardwood framed POA

Covid's hit!!! The world is in turmoil, people are dying on mass and we need a cure now!!! Preferably not drinking cleaning agents as suggested by the leader of the free world, but definitely something more effective than washing your hands and repeatedly singing happy birthday to yourself.
My short lived utopian open art studio had also fallen foul to the effects of the coronavirus and I was once more cast into the shadows of my potting shed. The busy road that bypasses our property and runs directly behind the home studio had slowed to a trickle, only to be replaced by the sound of birds tweeting and the daily pilgrimage of locals in an almost clockwork fashion passing by.
As I sat considering my next iteration, picking over notes that I'd jotted down, contrasting remarks that officials and politicians had relayed over the news, it dawned on me that collectively never had we been racing so hard towards a solution whilst doing absolutely nothing. For sure I was banging the pots and pans on a Wednesday, celebrating all of the people who were putting themselves in harms way just so we could function, but to be honest, other than stringently adhering to the ever changing rules my contribution to this global crisis was minimal. We were all waiting for the unpopular kids who took endless stick at school to come up with a silver bullet, well unless you were going to follow the Martins on Facebook who'd broken the enigma code and where bashfully sharing that it was a massive conspiratorial sham!

Racing bubble (2020)

Original Acrylic on canvas measures 67/67cm hardwood framed POA

Covid's hit!!! The world is in turmoil, people are dying on mass and we need a cure now!!! Preferably not drinking cleaning agents as suggested by the leader of the free world, but definitely something more effective than washing your hands and repeatedly singing happy birthday to yourself.
My short lived utopian open art studio had also fallen foul to the effects of the coronavirus and I was once more cast into the shadows of my potting shed. The busy road that bypasses our property and runs directly behind the home studio had slowed to a trickle, only to be replaced by the sound of birds tweeting and the daily pilgrimage of locals in an almost clockwork fashion passing by.
As I sat considering my next iteration, picking over notes that I'd jotted down, contrasting remarks that officials and politicians had relayed over the news, it dawned on me that collectively never had we been racing so hard towards a solution whilst doing absolutely nothing. For sure I was banging the pots and pans on a Wednesday, celebrating all of the people who were putting themselves in harms way just so we could function, but to be honest, other than stringently adhering to the ever changing rules my contribution to this global crisis was minimal. We were all waiting for the unpopular kids who took endless stick at school to come up with a silver bullet, well unless you were going to follow the Martins on Facebook who'd broken the enigma code and where bashfully sharing that it was a massive conspiratorial sham!