Jump

The bunnies are in for a treat, although I don't think they will see it like that, they are going to have their own little jump and I plan to try and get them to show jump. Well, that's the plan anyway but it will probably turn out that I end up jumping over it more times than them.

Using offcuts of wood I eventually managed to make a simple gate, low enough to discourage wriggling under but also not too high either, they regularly jump up on the hay bale we have so this being half the height should be a doddle.

Overly I have to report they were not impressed, in fact they were so unimpressed I got the 'what the hell is this?' face from Jura. Forming a group around the gate puzzled glances were exchanged until Aaran decided to test it out.

Not by jumping over it but to test it by throwing it around and chewing it. Needless to say I expected this so had a few distraction treats ready. After putting it back the right way around I very nearly managed to entice Jura over the jump until she realised that it was just as easy to hop around it. Sheesh, this is going to be difficult. I tried to convince them that this addition is a good thing unlike these other 'additions' to play areas...

Wow, how many levels of wrong is this on? I don't know what's worse, sliding down it or looking up it, but for a mega fail they don't come any more fail than this...

Well done, you have reached level 99 of wrong, Elephant Butt Slides you can't possibly get any worse than this...

Oh my!

Spring At Bunnyopolis

This latest sunny weather has heralded changes for Bunnyopolis, we have started to remove the winter perspex glazing we installed on the run side and removed the secondary glazing on the three windows attached to the house side. It's all started to feel a little more airier already. A welcome plaque has been attached to the front door and a few new and mostly ignored toys added as boredom breakers.

At the moment though, first thing in the morning they look extremely dopey and grumpy, just take a look above. Not sure if it's their size but they can look *really* grumpy, complete with slack jowls, droopy eyes and random flopping ears. They even become more pliable, not caring if you give them a good rub or even pose them in different positions. Don't think I have ever seen more tired buns thinking about it, in a typical day they have a bit of a run about from 7am-10'ish then it's indoors for a good sleep. Around 3pm they are back out and ready for tea, followed by plenty of mooching around and chewing, be it grass, wood or anything that takes their fancy. Things really liven up at dusk though, it's a mental hour, plenty of play chasing, skipping, flipping and unusually slip sliding.

This last one took me by surprise but Iona has developed a new skill, she will run once or twice around the garden then whilst running at high speed she will flop to one side as if she has been shot. The momentum carries her forward a good couple of feet still on her side, weird, but she seems to enjoys it and can often repeat it a few times much to the puzzlement of Jura and Aaran. Must be a bunny thing, I'll try and capture it on camera along with Jura's mad moments of 180 degree flipping, another strange thing, she can flip around over and over again on the same spot. Spring it seems has sprung!

Display

As we travel from gallery to gallery I'm amazed on the imagination that has gone into the appearances, not only from the weird and wonderful people but also the displays we have come across so far.

 We have had intricate displays like this, hundreds of playing cards stuck to the walls encircling the gallery.

Accompanied by magnifying glasses and obligatory Sherlock pipe to finish, we even had some little golden chocolate bunnies to guard them all.

Other displays have focussed on the windows, this is only a small part of it but it featured oversized cups and saucers, glass bowls, playing cards and in the centre a golden head and antlers of a deer. Wow!

Another gallery and another unique display, this time every painting had it's own unique set up, check out the Sherlock Sidewinders corner, it's got it's own mini library too!

Over large biscuits, dominoes and playing cards dominated this display which actually went a little step further inside with everyone kitted out in period costume.

 The one detail that did make me snigger though was part of the display that was just there to be discovered.

Tucked away in the sculpture cabinet was this, sample jars complete with little samples, how cool is that?

Potting Shed

Looks like all this extra sun recently has spurred everything on to grow, even our tomato and broccoli plants have burst into life ready for a transfer to the green house. Finally I can get out in the garden properly and maybe if the weather holds a little have a barbecue although don't be fooled too much, it may be sunny but it's still a little nippy. It may even be time to start the latest Bunnyopolis addition, I just need plenty of wood, a few screws and about two days of good weather to make supersized Fort Bun.

Today though is taken up with writing several new stories, catching up with e-mail, spending time in Bunnyopolis and doing general stuff after the weekends travels but it's back in the studio tomorrow for more work on the Impossimals with a little more model making and two new paintings to start.

Setting The Scene

One of the bonuses of modelling the Impossimals in plasticine is the versatility regarding camera angles although sometimes it can still be tricky. In this piece I wanted the impression of hearts floating down on a couple below. My first model looked ok'ish, I had even used garden canes to raise the height of the hearts a little and to cast shadows in the right place.

 But after taking this photo it looked kind of static, it needed more movement in general and I think that could be added with more height.

So using bigger sticks and weights I managed to get the biggest heart around two foot off the ground and to cast a large shadow to one side.

Taking a photo from above it all looked a lot better, but as a painting it still lacked a sense of proportion and balance.

After a bit of adjustment with the lights, a tightening up of the hearts and a slightly more intimate camera angle it all looked a whole lot better, balanced with the two Impossimals taking centre stage.

Don't forget this weekend we are back on the road with appearances on Saturday 24th March at Castle Galleries, Reading between 1-4pm and again on Sunday 25th March at The Original Art Shop at the Trentham retail village, Stoke-on-Trent between 12-3pm.

Snakes On A Plane

OK it's not exactly snakes it's a shower head and pipe, it's more of a car than a plane and Samuel L. Jackson didn't step in at any time and say 'Everybody listen! We have to put a barrier between us and the snakes!' so don't get too excited. Although it did entail plenty of wrestling with it snake style as I tried to remove it's vice like grip from the shower unit, a position it has held for eight years so was unwilling to give it up without a fight even though the night before it had split near the shower head and sprayed water liberally around the cubicle leaving just a dribble coming the right direction so you would have thought it would be weak after being injured.

The staff at my local DIY store shrugged with that special shrug they do that tells you it's your problem and they really don't give two hoots if you can't find it, you know the one, it's the shrug that ends with a casual wave in the general direction of 23 aisles and the bored 'it's over there' now go away face. I eventually found them tucked away behind the carpets and next to a thousand shower heads some of which featured attachments so exotic they looked illegal. Really, three heads, power action and massage mode?

Faced with twelve different shower pipes that all look exactly the same but range from £3 to £30 always fills me with a dilemma. Do I go cheap and regret it or do I buy the most expensive, after all there has to be a difference right? Next comes the comparison, I unfurled my damaged pipe and compared nozzles, you know, to make sure they matched the size, not easy and I couldn't be sure they were exactly the same so I did the sensible thing, took a shower head from the display and tried it in the new pipe, it fitted perfectly so I unscrewed it and tried it in my damaged pipe. It also fitted perfectly, perfect I thought then panicked, it was stuck. I must have damaged the screw thread when I wrestled it from the shower earlier.

Oh no!

No matter how much I tried I couldn't budge it an inch. Jayne held one side as I twisted and turned it trying to use the increasing tightness in the flexible pipe to give me more leverage. Apparently I over did the twisting looking back and it suddenly become alive as the twisted pipe decided to release all it's energy back into the shower head and it spun out of my hands. I have to say people can really move if they have too, my metal snake complete with shower head head wriggled, writhed and clattered it's way a few feet down the aisle, shoppers scattered as if confronted with a real snake, I however, stood mortified.

I didn't even feel particularly like a snake handler either as I retrieved the shower snake from the floor although I did feel like saying 'It's OK everyone, it's dead' or 'Watch out! There's another one!'. The head still would not move and I sheepishly retreated to aisle 3 and used an adjustable spanner to remove it.

In the end I went for a middle of the road replacement pipe that fitted perfectly and pondered shower snakes. Do they exist and what do they look like? I feel a painting coming on...

Mankini

I don't mind shopping, being taken from place to place across several hours broken by the occasional coffee and cake only to return back to the original shop, it's all part of the experience. I don't even mind being asked for the umpteenth time if this looks OK, is the right colour or fits better than outfit number 26. The thing I really dread though is this...

 It was introduced to me today as the Man Chair. The proprietor of today's shop of choice was very efficient and attentive but as soon as she said 'You can sit on the man chair' my heart sank. You see, this chair appears in every place that sells ladies clothes and that includes the big chains too and quite often they are filled with bored looking middle aged men with armfuls of bags and a face that screams defeat. The worst places offer man sofa's where you have to squeeze in amongst the bored throng or suffer a worse fate of trying to stand near the changing rooms without a) Looking suspicious, b) Getting in the way or c) Looking like a pervert.

I once stood too close in one store to the changing rooms whilst I waited only to be looked up and down by various customers with looks ranging from filthy beast and suspicion to glares that looked like they were trying to remember my features just in case I had been on a wanted poster.

Sitting on the man chair today was unusually a simple affair. The shop was empty apart from myself and Jayne so any indignation was avoided. Glancing to my right though I found another reason to shudder.

A selection of 'man' based magazines to entertain said man. Call me picky but Practical Caravan (special issue with '70's Leyland road tests and how to cope with an overturned Swift in a thunderstorm), a general over 50 health magazine (with articles on coping with dying and how to avoid urine stains, honestly. Ugh!) and Best of British (building narrow boats, brewing tea that tasted like it did in the war, Dame Vera Lynn of course, ghastly glasses, why we should cane all the buggers again and mending minesweepers. No doubt if I dug deeper I would have found the 'hang the buggers' article and how to build an air raid shelter for those weekends away) wasn't riveting reading.

It kept me amused for a short while though. Well, we are talking short seconds actually, until the first of the questions started. 'Does this look right?', 'What about the colour?', 'You're not paying attention are you?' and I slinked back into my man chair role.

Ahh, the man chair what it giveth with one hand it takes away with the other. 'Are you comfortable there? Not long now.' was the reassuring words from the proprietor. I actually thought she was talking to a small child sat next to me but alas the small child didn't exist. Mmm.

So the next time I'm offered a man chair I have decided to go to town and take along a pipe and slippers, some reading material and maybe a small sandwich and a large brandy to really feel at home. I may even bring along a small dog called Colin to curl at my feet. Comfy? You betcha!

Scrandom

It's a pretty random day for me today so I thought I would update you on the latest supermarket games you can join in with. Supermarket scrabble though, the popular spice based word game, seems to have run it's course. Words are being repeated and many spice racks are now regularly policed for naughtiness, even the packaging is starting to change. It seems though that has only upped the stakes and now everything is to play for with double points and triple word scores for the more creative entries.

Take greeting cards for instance, you can guarantee as soon as a letter appears on anything it's going to be open season and I'm sure this is not the first time this has been done but I bet you can score some pretty impressive words.

The strange thing is though is the fact it's crossed over to magazines which you would have thought been immune from this. Not so, this is one of the less rude displays of magazine munificence... Mmm, Reptile Lust...

Back to reality and a valiant attempt at the local garden centre with a floral boobies display, obviously one for Alan Titchmarsh. Things like this are so unexpected too amongst the petunias and bird feeders. How rude dear!

Probably with hindsight it would have been best to stick just to names... people are so childish. Titter ye not.

Sometimes they just bring it on themselves though, fancy some of Iceland's pre-packed premium bottom? Didn't think so.

But for absolute class it's the spell checker failure that brings the most titters producing quite a unique selling point, apparently it also comes with eight cans of lager and a traffic cone.

Right, now I have got that out of my system today I'm back in the studio for another session and to maybe rearrange my paints into a vaguely amusing word, now what can I spell with turps, red, umber, magenta, prussian blue and slate grey?

Purile

It's not the first time I have stood in a public toilet wishing I was somewhere else but these things seem to occur on a too regular basis for comfort. From walking in on three naked men in Cardiff to figuring out a broken lock in Glasgow once again I was treated to some toilet treats in Chelmsford and Bournemouth this weekends gallery appearances.

Public toilets vary quite a lot around the country, from the downright despicable to the inescapably impeccable, Chelmsfords conveniences were stuck up three flights of stairs above a shopping centre and were middling on the scale. I'm constantly amazed at the different ways to wash and dry your hands too, from Dyson Airblades to gale force ten blowers, from paper towels to real towels that look like they have dried a dirty dog, this unique one I was stood in front of had the blower and get this, an ultra violet light to combat germs. Cool.

Not so cool was the guy who burst into the toilets and man handled is way passed pushing me into the dryer along the way. He was obviously desperate and had a pained expression, one you might imagine you would see if your naked foot had trod on an upturned plug in the dark. He barged into the nearest cubicle and slammed the door. Cubicles are not the most private of places so I was treated to assorted scuffles as he shed his clothes I imagined before a thud signified a seated position. Oh no, I thought, please, please, please let my hands be dry in time.

Too late.

OOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooommmmp. Pbtpbtpbtpbppbtpbt. Toot.

Krack Thoooom!

The last one took my breath away, this guy was seriously in trouble. After listening to what sounded like somebody turning himself inside out suddenly there was silence. Then the giggling started.

Not me but the guy in the cubicle. First a snigger then a giggle followed by a full blown laugh out loud. Relieved or not I didn't hang around. I expected him to burst forth with his trousers around his ankles laughing uncontrollably, tears streaming from his eyes in happiness. Stay I did not and I left quickly.

Bournemouth on the other had was bathed in glorious sunshine but again after the hours travelling down meant I needed to use the facilities. This time I would rank them as average. I was the only occupant, at least that's what I thought until a burly fluorescent clad hulk of a man appeared in the doorway.

'Howee doone we ya snapper?' he shouted over my shoulder. It appears to most men I appear quite invisible in public conveniences.

'Gimmie a pinch, done two just wanna clip it'. What is this?? Some kind of toilet talk I don't understand? I travel 221 miles starting at four in the morning to stand listening to some new form of descriptive commentary about the toilet habits of a toilet troll. Sheesh. Even more embarrassing was the revelation that now hit me as I turned, the area I was standing in had full view out onto the pavement and any passing old dear could see me, my day was complete before it even started.

So if you decide to use the male conveniences in central Bournemouth do not, I repeat, do not stand on the far right unless you wish to be giggled at mercilessly and pointed at by passing youths. Don't even get me started with the three button all in one soap, wash and dry machine that tries to cover your crotch in all three.

Red

The progression of the hearts in my Impossimal paintings have changed quite a bit over the years, more than I really realised. Going back to 2006 my hearts were more 'pointy' and heavy on the shadows with little or no hint at the curved surface. I didn't mean I didn't like them, to me they looked right, just that I didn't understand what made a heart, hearty. They were also painted using just red, black and white leaving little to experiment with.

Gradually over the year I changed a little and lost the pointedness and added in a bit of orange to liven things up. The heavy shadows were disappearing too and being replaced with a glaze of crimson for depth.

A few years later and the orange was fully integrated into the hearts, white was used for a nice shine and the edges were brightened back up to start to give a 3D feel.

 The next step was to go all 3D and it started with this one, taking everything I had learned I put it all into the heart and glazed it heavily to make it glow. Around the edges a highlight lifted it away from the background. It was nearly there...

 2010 and a piece called Baby Love, originally modelled from clay for the first time I could light and see a true heart shape before I painted it. To get everything right I used charcoal to pop in all the shadows before I started paying attention to the light bouncing back then rapidly placed in the colours starting with the lightest first.

 Once finished it was probably the most accurate to date in terms of shape and form and made a great centrepiece for the painting.

 But this one was completely different. Using a little glass heart that was kindly donated to me by fellow artist  Jurgen Dabeedin of Blue Shift Gallery (http://www.blueshiftgallery.com) I managed to capture the heart shape, tone, reflection and colour all in one giving a true 3D heart.

I had tried 3D hearts before in different positions and although they looked right in the pieces they appeared in now I'm using the little glass heart things are different.

As you can see in this photograph from a piece called celebration, three years between each painting shows a marked difference on something as simple as a heart.

Don't forget this weekend we are back out with the Impossimals in the galleries again, this time at Chelmer Fine Art, Chelmsford, Essex on Saturday 17th March 12-3pm and way down in Bournemouth for an appearance at Westover Gallery on Sunday 18th March 12-3pm.

Chewy

Bunnyopolis has come under attack. Three bunnies with oodles to do, toys to destroy, telephone directories to rip have decided that collectively they want to chew everything they can lay their hands on. A natural instinct and it's good for their teeth I know but boy can they chew. This is the side of Bunnyopolis where every corner has been chamfered to a height of two feet, follow this around the garden an there are no corners left to be seen. Take this morning for example.

Jura walked straight passed the wooden toys, footballs, pretend carrots, plastic bottles filled with stuff and other assorted boredom breakers and went straight for the wood.

 Here she is in full swing, we added these to the mix to try and help, which they do as you can see here, but with three strong willed bunnies whilst one does this...

 Aaran is doing this, whittling away a fence post, meanwhile...

...Iona is going for the most obscure piece of wood, the leg of a small plinth in Bunnyopolis and grinding it down from the inside. To do this she has to turn upside down. Silly bunny.

Bunnies will be bunnies, so we decided to bring in a massive assortment of stuff to act as diversions. But even then they can still be picky. Take this carrot tree for instance, initial reaction was 'great, what do we do with it?' then overnight they plucked off all the carrots and left the parsnip coloured ones alone. Not been touched since. Even funnier was the Thompson and Local directory that we put down for them to shred. Again it was ignored until a few nights ago when we went in and two corners of pages had been ripped out and left, one was the index for, weirdly, abattoirs and the other was vets, seriously. What were the chances of that happening? There must be like 300 pages and they choose these two to tear out.

But then you turn around and see sights like this, Aaran, Jura and Iona, three happy bunnies doing bunny things, wood can be replaced and I'd have it no other way.