A whole load of roses

Practised some roses.

Messina Strait

The Strait of Messina is a stretch of water in Italy which is where they think the Greeks believed Scylla and Charybdis lived. And now the name of my forthcoming clothing venture, things change a lot.

Smiles And Snarls - Work In Progress

Half a piece I drew up tonight. Rocking a bear on the other side. To follow.

Children Of Dust

Children Of Dust

And he turned to the sky and asked the rain to start falling,
Begged the heavens to open,
To come and wash away what he had done.
He imagined that somehow the water would cleanse him,
Pierce the skin and drive right to his soul.

He stirred the mud with his hands and he sobbed as he sculpted an image of himself in the dirt,
He gave it his memories, his dreams and decays,
His burdens and worries and then filled it with pain.
He imagined the flaking, the peeling and shifting,
The crumbling of joints as it started to move,
It's mouth cracking open, like lips in the winter,
An earthen chest heaving as it started to breath.

Gasping and gasping and gasping and gasping,
And gasping for breath just like hearts torn in two by the wind.

He said "Boy, what have you made of me?
I can plainly see that I am you,
Our pulses run in unison and our flesh has been hewn out the same.
But whisper here a moment, dear,
I can't see the good in this, my dear,
I don't feel like me, like us, like you at all.

Thunder clapped and a single raindrop struck the ground.
And then another.

It let out a cry and it clutched at it's chest as it feel to it's knees in the dirt,
The rain was now pounding,
The heavens had opened,
Not a simple reprieve but a curse.

And it screamed "Boy, what have you made of me?
Boy, what have you made of us?
Take a second to think what you have done."
But the boy couldn't answer,
His hands outstretched, trembling,
His teeth set on edge as he fell,
Lay silent, face downwards,
Already a memory, already a story to tell.

The mud man stood and walked away.

Don't look for him,
You won't find him there,
That boy washed away long ago.

There's Nothing Like Another Soul That's Been Cut Up The Same

Sketch up for a tattoo idea.

Tumblr

So, 2 years after signing up to Tumblr I finally went and uploaded stuff to it.

I'll still be posting on here as well as there.

Follow my Tumblr here:

http://mercerart.tumblr.com

The Butcher - In Full

More pleased with this than I have been with anything for quite some time.

I said I wasn't going to add it until it was screened.

But I want to add it to my folio. So there it is.

I Wanna Tear You To Pieces.

Raised By Foxes - Blue

This is going to happen soon.

Shirts.

Coach Trip Fisheyes

At the beginning of November I embarked on a 10-day-coach-journey-catch-up-session around the South east. I took my fish-eye. These aren't as good as I'd hoped for to be honest, I'll blame that partly on myself for not getting round to taking many photographs recently and being out of practise, and partly on the fact that my light metre is broken so all the settings are guess work.

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Portsmouth

Always old buildings

Sunrise

Bridge

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London

Forever in love with weird doors and crumbling walls

Deep thought

Covers

Crusty phonebox

Soho somewhere

Something went weird here

I love half-wound photos

Long exposure walk

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Brighton

Upshots of lamposts always

There is another few photos on another film which hasn't been finished yet. 

It Is A Promise

Full type styles.

This isn't good enough to actually use for anything, but as always I post everything and anything.

It's good to be doing something again. Even if it's not the best.

Death Is Not A Problem

Bit of type messing.
Needs some Ai clean up & adjustments before the full piece goes up.