I want to know about you.

I want to know about you
Why hide yourself?
I want some pieces of you
To paint a portrait.

I want some colours of you
To taste on my tongue.
I want some of your breath
To fill my lung.

Every escaping light from your eyes
To fill my scrapbook;
Every murmer made in your sleep
A momento to keep.

To whole world is described
Time and time again.
I want to know about you
Who I may never see again.

Biblical drawings: Samson

Samson Removes the City Gates. Judges 16: 1-3

Samson with and without hair style.

Samson with hairstyle of the day
Samson without hair style of those days.

Samson: for one of my two eyes. Judges 16: 25-30


Aphorism: It was the goal of the season

  • They’ve put so many hands
    in a deck of cards.
  • All the hate in the world
    Wouldn’t be so bad if you loved me.
  • It was the goal of the season, it was a good goal
    It was the goal of the universe, it was a good goal.
  • Jealousy is banned, banned across the land
    And spite, its evil twin, never more should sin.
  • How I wish the night would come
    Because I’ve got nowhere to run.
  • The heart has its feelings
    The eyes have their dreams
    The vocal chords have their thoughts.
  • Ever since you invented them
    Half the world has died – end the gun, end the gun.
  • Not even the man in the Kremlin
    Knows the heart of the Kremlin.
  • Don’t commit adultery
    Don’t worship the image of the wild beast
    Honour Gods name.
  • Peace is like a garden,
    Peace is like a plan
    But whatever you do now,
    Don’t leave the design to man.
  • People with multiple personalities
    Also have multiple broken hearts.
  • The end is worse than the beginning
    You retrace your steps and discover
    That what you started with was glorious.
  • They keep their hate secrets; nobody knows their hate secrets
    Nobody sees their hate secrets until it’s too late.


Project 330, (drawings done about 1980)


my radio head

Asleep in the night. Some people are passing by outside the squat in 330 Commercial Road, walking about 30 or more feet away walking eastward. My deep sleep shuts down and opens, clear as a radio, listens to the conversation of passers by. The talk would normally be too far away to be heard; an amplification of sound takes place inside the brain and makes the conversation seem nearer and clearer. In the morning I attempt to record the strange experience as a drawing; my Radio Head.


Disturbed sleep experiences.

MATTRESS (performance proposal)

Wake up in the morning/persperation. The wall is a surface/unpapered/non-illusary. To see beneath the surface, to dream. A man looking at a surface and dreaming. To wake up from the night/from dreaming to stand on the mtress and press warm body against wall. Bones and wall are one/flesh and matress another. The room is cool. The mattress and flesh are warm/bones and wall are cold. This seperation from warm and cold, flesh and bone, ilusion and surface, night and reality. The surface is covered in white paint. The paint is as cold as the wall, even if it conveyed an illusion, it is a surface even if it depicted spatial design. A dream comes from some death (like a lantern fish). Can you pass your fingers through it, or is it a surface. It is not illusory, it is real, living, working, and working, (or is it the thinking, illusory sound where do dream sounds come from – real of imaginary?





As a person who has suffered from sleepwalking since childhood, here I imagine a twin who watches over me.


linear drawing


Song: Down in Mr. Kelly’s Workshop

Mr. Kelly’s workshop

Please click to see a PDF music sheet of words and music to this song

Lyrics to my song about going to Art School.

The tramps, the troops, in ceremonial groups
Are playing classroom rebels in the hall.
Meanwhile there, a boy with Gainsborough hair
Is drawing graffiti on the wall.

The vamps, the groups, of Babylonian girls
Are keeping something secret up their sleeves.
Meanwhile there, the wooden spoon it stares
Is telling tale of secret love affairs.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
That’s where I go till break of day.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
I go to work my troubles all away.

The knights, the hoods, the mystic from the woods
Hold a séance in a darkened room.
Meanwhile there, I was in despair
As Houdini’s ghost came falling down the stairs.

The prince, the pawn, wearing old school clothes
Are painting both their shoes a pretty pink.
Meanwhile there, in his ragged old armchair
I sketch them all with invisible ink.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
A bunch of dolls are bleeding on the floor.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Museum bones are tapping at the door.

The mother, the lover, the child of the rover
Are trying to understand the fallacy.
I cannot see, as I walk in from the street
Why they fear the worst in everyone.

A man in black, with a briefcase and a mask
Walks around the sculptors rented room;
Now he’s back and he’s walking very fast
Decides it will be demolished very soon.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Past the statues standing in the drive.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
The ally cat struggles to survive.

Wipe the frost from off the window
Look out into the rainy day
Let’s go somewhere now; lets be happy and I don’t care how
So long as we leave our troubles all behind.

(If you’re hungry and forlorn, and you need to be reborn
From a life that turns its back on you
You can sit and stare from his old armchair
At the people working in his studio).

The phoenix has flown, from the ashes of the stone
A carving that is done from memory.
Meanwhile there, … … …
They fear the worst in every one.

(The night has fallen, the stone carving that they work on
Will be born the next sunrise)
The atmosphere inside, of energy is devoid
And rebirth weights heavily on his mind
(As if death has been unearthed by the artists eye).

You feel too bad to work,
You don’t understand a word
And time is like an ice cube in your shoe
You’re let down, I know,
You know you can only go
Down to Mr. Kelly’s studio.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Mr. K. pulls a bluebird from the stone.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Into the wind his miracle has flown.

For a place in school, there’s an audition in the hall
Like a slave market from a covered stall.
While the hand that is ignored, is the one that can’t afford
To let down the home just to be disguised.

The rich with the law try to teach the poor
While taking every penny that you own.
Art won’t make your bread, they teach you law instead
You spend your time taking their exams.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
The lock has been forced on the garage door.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
His dolls lie broken on the floor.

Like orphans of the road, some from broken homes
Pass through the workshop like …broken flowers.
Meanwhile there in fashions of last year
… girls who break down in tears

And the silence burdens you with manic principal
Who wants to integrate you all the time.
While the hand that is ignored, Is the one that can’t afford
To let down the home That he/she came fro Just to be disguised

Meanwhile there, he wants more G.C.E.’s
But he cannot see the trouble on your mind

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
No one there has stopped you being free.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
A box of dolls has begun to bleed.

When I went to my first art class
The streets were paved with glass
Looking into a world I’d never know.
Now the streets are in dust
As the wind blows in disgust
Turning my poor heart into stone.

The tramps the troops, in theatrical groups
Would discuss my social problems in the street.
Meanwhile there, I’m seen weeping in the canteen
Because I can’t afford to buy anything to eat.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Every one must wear a disguise.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
No one can talk to me eye to eye.

Mr. Principal feels its time for me to leave
All I want is a chance to draw
But you’ve got no money and no G.C.E.s
And you’re not sophisticated enough in how you talk.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
That’s where I’d go till break of day.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Is where I’d go if ever I’d lost my way.

A dog in labyrinthic gloom, Peggy Sue’s sad tune
I’ll go to hide in his little office room.
Meanwhile I’d curse, the system till it hurt
The pain was something I really can’t explain.

The Bran-den-burg, like Brancusi’s bird
Soars passed the jeep that’s parked out in the drive.
Meanwhile outside, with mysterious hungry eyes
You draw nudes, fruit and empty bottles of wine.


Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
The cosmopolitan people never died.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Though the changes came, it’s still there in my mind.

Sex, drugs, and the disguises of love
You can be a bohemian, even if you cannot draw.
Just pass all the exams, thieve ideas from my hands
Then you’ll take the place of artists in art schools.

The dying and the born, walk in from the storm
And begin to sculpt a pregnant form.
Meanwhile outside, the starving angel cries
And the model on the bottle stands by his side.
Or; (the devil with a sheep’s carcass hanging by his side)

Down in Mr.’ Kelly’s workshop
The manger and the tomb are done.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
In the rising and the setting of the sun.

The talking clock, the bones inside my sock
Simultaneously are heard to groan.
Meanwhile all day, the ghost piano plays
For the drunken navy’s asleep on an old tombstone.

The lathe and the file, argue all the while
Over who put the shine in a wedding ring.
Venus knows what to do (in blue), will take them down a peg or two
It was then that everyone began to sing – – –

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
We sand the problem till it fades away.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Only the beauty of the form remains.

(Why don’t you come along inside
Join the party and have a real good time).

I’d be footloose and fancy free
But for these chains on me
Put there by the authority.
I’d know all I need to know
If I didn’t have these blues so
That everyone feels
But no body else can see.

the church by the pub, on the hill of modern love
up the market to the old art school
the sun has set, the students all have left
and the market is empty of its stalls.



Ted, Bet and Tony are still playing games with John.

bet tony and ted in park

Ted comes over all funny.

The boys are being silly and Bet leaves them to their games – Ready, Steady, Go!

John, the serious one, joins in and captures the moment for posterity.

f george and tony in park

And now even George has joined in.

ted in park

Hey, George what do you think you’re playing at?




Ted, Bet and Tony go sightseeing in Greenwich

ted tony bet greenwich

Ted, Tony and Bet in Greenwich Park

Ted and Tony, where’s Bet gone?

1 bet ted and tony

Oh There she is!

bet greenwich

Where have my brothers gone, what are they up now.

Ha,ha, here we are.

john greenwich

John has given up.


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