The Bite

*My eyes snap open the second the alarm goes off, already I can see the calm outside, not even the wind is showing its face tonight and yet every drop of my blood is pulsing like waves crashing against my skin as if it is trying to escape. I’m ready for this. It has to be done.

Outside I feel like I’m sneaking past my mothers bed to grab the odd fag from the nightstand, my hands usually getting just within reach before a snore would send me straight back to bed. Heel, toe, heel, toe I can now see the dark eyes of the house peering down on me, is it judging me or them? Glass reflecting light between the wheels of a small bike catches my eye and for a second I almost loose my nerve. I’ve walked past this garden every night with Stanford, my brown eyed staffie watching the toys and mess grow and change. I close my eyes, picturing her scars and remind myself why I’ve got to take their dog.
*There he is again, the kind guy from next door he is always walking his little dog down here, making sure he has a peep at Bernie. He probably get’s to see Bernie more than me, daddy always says he’s not my toy.
I don’t like the way daddy and his friends play with their dogs, Bernie is always bleeding, every time he gets back. I want to make it better like my horse, all I have to do is put water on my horse and his wounds get better, why won’t he let me fix Bernie too?  Maybe mr kind guy will let me play with Bernie too.
*Week after week Dom and his dog had walked past Danny Crocker’s house, watching with pain in his chest as the dog chained up outside collected scar after scar. Dom had begged for a dog for as long as he could remember, his mother had always told him he’d have no idea how to care for a dog, a fag burning away at her callas hands as she lectured him on why he wasn’t good enough to look after anything or anyone.
Finally he’d moved out, he’d moved as far away as possible but until he got Stanford he’d not spent a day without her voice ringing in his ears but tonight for the first time it felt almost as if her words might pop out of his mouth.
He’d gotten all the way to the back gate of Danny’s house when a pair of tiny hands opened it for him,  whimpering and covered in blood the childs ankle was bleeding heavily. Silently sobbing the child latched on to his neighbors leg and said “Don’t tell daddy I played with his toy”.



The deep yellow of the light covered every crack in the dark leather, revealing every crease for all too see. Theo was there, his warmth visible without even being close to him. It occured to me that day that comfort wasn’t always visible. The times I had ached, when even bodies holding me up had done nothing but keep me standing. These were nothing compared to the love of someone of whom had no idea what bands I liked, or if my opinions were politically correct, no idea about anything that we all pick apart in someones personality to see if they are worthy of our time. With those eyes that never failed too understand, to crave the attention I needed to give.
Often times when emotions are off balance, I’ve been desperate to comfort when I could not and desperate not to when I could, never rationally but always unmistakably painful but to have someone around that even if its fictionally sensing every emotion. A hot water, a hug when needed, a needy stare across the room and all that Is expected back is food and care.



We live in a time where beautiful is probably one of the most well received compliments given, no one thinks anything of it, just walks away with a smile. Whilst listening to one of my tutors stories about how at one time having your piece of work called beautiful meant that yes it did look just lovely! but it meant nothing. I may not be so sure about the art world at the moment, but I know for a fact that art means everything to the artist, personally I believe that makes it art. Sometimes it may start as just an idea – no real meaning too it but it grows and it festers and that idea becomes physical.

Gap Year?

So I’ve had this horrible feeling for a while that maybe the course I’d picked for Uni had been the wrong choice, for a while i’ve been telling myself to stop being silly because I’d come too far to turn back. Now however, I know I shouldn’t be going this year. I feel like I need time to do something, whether that’s explore photography, art galleries, countries or work with art galleries, I could back pack around europe or build houses where people need them. I feel like this is more me than uni is right now. I want to live before I make the decision to jump into so much debt, If i go to uni I want to be sure. So here are a few links I want to keep in mind, please let me know if you have any advice or stories to tell, or places to go, I would love to hear them.

Why is wood so hard to cut?

So today I decided to cut up these bits of old tree my dad cut down ages ago. It was a long and hard process, after the long voyage to find different types of saw, fighting off the monster spiders and staying clean all at once. I manages to keep myself occupied whilst capturing some photo’s whilst I was at it.

Metropolis: reflections on the modern city

I’ve spent most of my childhood visiting Birmingham Art Gallery and museum with my parents and schools etc, but it’s only been the last few years where I’ve been interested in what I was looking at. A few weeks before the end of our “Final Major Project” We went to visit a new part of the Gallery “Metropolis” which is an exhibition based around reflections of a Modern city. The work from various artists around the world all comes together to bring this feel of life within the world. That buzz you expect when you visit New York or the crisp wind against your ears when you pop into Poland.ImageImageImageImage

Mohamed Bourouissa’s work really inspired me. I don’t class myself as a photographer but what I do love is the way you can build a story up from a photograph. With this work each photograph meant something to me for example “The Reflection” (the bottom photograph) reflects the sadness of time passing. The old televisions are old and discared for me this could relate to the way we treat our family, it could be a statement about the state of care homes and what they represent. The possibilities are endless and that is what I love about art.


The further you get into the exhibition the more it pulls you in, the variety of work is what makes it so special with digital projection, painting, sculpture, photography and mixed media installation.Image

I highly reccomend you should give this exhibit a go before the 23rd of June!: