Yateheads

Limbo Jimbo

2012-02-12T12:11:00.000-08:00

Urban Ramble

2012-02-09T09:37:00.001-08:00

Frames in window

Rubbish water fountain

Dust sheets

Beware of wolf

Carrots

Box

Black Flowers

2012-02-06T07:32:00.000-08:00

Fings what we saw on a walk today

2012-01-29T10:10:00.000-08:00

Bristol City Friendly Society

Chipboard garage

Painted over sign

Ramshackle fence

Sweet haircut collage

Peephole

2012-01-18T00:48:00.000-08:00

100 Artists to Watch - Modern Painters

2011-12-13T09:34:00.000-08:00

Sanctum

2011-12-05T04:40:00.000-08:00

Sluice

2011-12-05T04:26:00.000-08:00

Some time ago the kind people at Aid & Abet, Cambridge decided they wanted to represent Yateheads at the Sluice Art Fair in Mayfair, London. Flattered and overwhelmed by their generosity we duly sent representatives of the clan for examination by the general public - it was a blast. By the end of the fair some members returned home exhausted by their exploits but one, yes one, decided to stay down in London to offer guidance to an interested party. Look very closely at the following picture and you will see 'Big Thinks' in action...

Unicorn Root (Devil's Bit)

2011-10-09T03:37:00.000-07:00

Intervention Intervention

2011-10-08T10:36:00.000-07:00

At no point in the history of Yate will it ever be as close to all of you as it is now. Last week Yateheads travelled en masse in the back of a Ford Fiesta to Northampton's Fishmarket for an intervention of epic proportions, joined by a collection of wonderful artisans in the shape of CJ Mahony, Phil Ashcroft, Catherine Bertola and Steven Messam. They will be there until November - go see!

Yateheads

CJ Mahony

CJ Mahony and Phil Ashcroft

Catherine Bertola

Steven Messam

The Island of Dr. Merrytwit

2011-09-08T10:19:00.000-07:00

ROFLMFAO, etc...

2011-09-01T07:54:00.000-07:00

Happy Happy Joy Joy

2011-08-16T02:50:00.000-07:00

Study for Figure Debased and Crucified

2011-08-05T00:49:00.000-07:00

Search to Destroy

2011-08-04T04:33:00.001-07:00

New victims hunted down in Age Concern, the Kingswood, Bristol. Two already maimed, several dozen to go...

Crumbling Into Dust

2011-07-28T07:46:00.000-07:00

These toofy-pegs are made of chalk, just like my own teeth that I also believe are made of chalk.

Beyond the frame scrabbling about on the floor with past visions surfacing in my mind and only Rob keeping me company. And some chalk teeth.

2011-07-27T09:13:00.000-07:00

Floor drawing evoking the lwa of Yate and gateway to a state of limbo. And my tailors bike.

The Pen-is Meatier Than The wordS

2011-07-18T09:25:00.000-07:00

Holed up in the studio bastardising a knitting pattern like a lone seagull in a Morrison's car park destroying a KFC bag looking for scraps. The piece in question in progress...

Earlier...

Later...

Men. In an allotment. Doing men things.

Art As A Full Time Hobby

2011-07-14T02:20:00.001-07:00

This blog has been more of a 'block' recently so in an effort to kick start something, here's a visual log of when Yateheads went on the road to Cambridge for 'Art As A Full Time Hobby' at the wonderful artist run space Aid & Abet. For more information about the project, please check out www.aidandabet.co.uk Enjoy...

Yateheads stall and 'lwa' wall drawing

Yateheads stall of curios

Craig Atkinson selling his wares

Alex Pearl in his studio

'Art As A Full Time Hobby'

l-r: Craig Atkinson, Alex Pearl, Martyn Cross

Yateheads installation

The work of Craig Atkinson

Alex Pearl and Annabel Dover

The Hermit Age

2011-05-01T04:42:00.001-07:00

Positive Release

2011-04-12T08:25:00.001-07:00

Failure

2011-04-07T02:56:00.000-07:00

The Black Flag series has always been far from perfect. Let's celebrate the worst of the worst and other failures with Phil and Bryan at www.failure2011.blogspot.com

Straw Dog

2011-03-29T08:20:00.000-07:00

Totem

2011-03-17T02:03:00.001-07:00

Hair Loss

2011-03-11T01:44:00.000-08:00

Los Amantes (Apologies to Magritte)

2011-03-05T10:35:00.000-08:00

The Kids Are Alright

2011-03-03T01:07:00.000-08:00

Twizzler

2011-02-05T09:45:00.000-08:00

Frfrpfrfrpfrfrpfrfrp! Frfrpfrfrpfrfrpfrfrp! Yeah. Dassit. Frfrpfrfrpfrfrp! Kshhh! In ze bogx. Tayke dat shit doawn. Frfrpfrfrpfrfrp! Loike litenin Eye spin rownd un glans ov ze incumin attax. Eyem 2 faz 4 em tho, slike dey dunt even c me loike. Dunt notis me til is 2 layt un Eyev alreddy hunkered down in dere slip streem, moovin quik un claymin dere demetrius witjch flows in dere wayk. Ere cums anuver - frfrpfrfrpfrfrpfrfrp! God im! EYAAA! So faz, so sure. Dat woz a biggun dat tyme bud dat dunt mean shit 2 me. Juz sen em froo un Eyell b dere waytin 2 powns loike an ardwyred powerd ub masheen. No messin, juz boom! strayt in mi Vileda un on 2 ze negz 1.

Woah! ang on, woz dat dere? Lemme froo, lemme froo! Frfrpfrfrpfrfrpfrfrp! Yeees! Bang! In ze can! An anuver frfrpfrfrpfrfrpfrfrp! Woohoo! Yeah. Now den, ere we go, dease cheep suided fellas ar boun 2 dump on me padch soon nuff, juz giv em a whyd birf fur a lidl bid an den 1s deyv ad enuff, Eyell swoob in an twizzle the ol baton. God ze Greggs on ze go ant dey? Chompin dat shit doawn eazee in 2 mowfuls, crums awl owver dere fizog fallin on dere scuved buckeld shoos. Dey dunt c me coz dere awl hi fellutin big nobs frum ub ze citi. Finks dere abuv Eye bud dere not. Still eat, shit, breeve loike Eye. Still gotta wype dere asses juz loike youse un me. Wen awls sed un dun, iv Eye bownd un gagged em 2 a chare un eld a lit torjch 2 dere nuts, dey wud shit emselvs juz loike evry1 els. Eye meen nuffin 2 dem, dey meen nowt to Eye.

Ov dey go zen, time 2 sweeb ub dere crab, pop id awl in ze Vileda. Sgettin full now so bedder ed ov 2 ze massiv Biffa owt ze bak un ov lode mi capsule. Kan ownee ged a sertin amownt in un Eye rekon Eye pobarbly emtee id ad leest ate tymes un ower.

Thas ulod ov shit innit.

S.W.A.L.K.

2011-01-30T10:31:00.000-08:00

Involving Regressive Evolving

2011-01-28T09:15:00.000-08:00

Paint by numbers to vandalised knitting patterns to limbo bamboo and plastic bags to baked bread bones to lunchtime tinfoil to destroyed knitting patterns to Strictly Come Paint by Number.

New Specimen for Vrolik

2011-01-26T08:25:00.000-08:00

The child (children?) pictured has recently been born into this world but is still growing and mutating. Lord knows what it'll look like in a few days time...

BAST

2011-01-08T14:39:00.000-08:00

BAST is a superb homage to the original BLAST manifesto and is available to buy here for £1.50: http://www.thelast.org.uk/bast.htm

It is truly astonishing and well worth every penny my fellow Vorticists!

Fridge Magnet Collection

2010-12-15T10:17:00.000-08:00

FOR SALE - IDEAL CHRISTMAS GIFT

Original collage fridge magnets by Martyn Cross

£8.oo each (plus p+p)

Available in 8 unique designs and sold on a first come first served basis

These are not prints so once they have sold, that's it!

Magnet size: 5 x 8cm

Last first class postage date for Christmas - 21st December

Pay using paypal (below)

Don't lose out - get yours today!

Coral Cardi - *SOLD*

Guitar Man - *SOLD*

Baby Face - *SOLD*

Shemale - *SOLD*

Nuclear Family

Doll Face

Silhouette - *SOLD*

Silver Lady

Spike Art Market

2010-12-05T11:19:00.000-08:00

This Christmas why not give your gran a picture of a headless man? Or perhaps dad would like a painting of a some art loving zombies instead of his usual gift of a pair of socks? How about mum? I bet she'd love a Gregg's bongo! Come on down to Spike Island on Saturday December the 11th and you could buy any of these unusual gifts and much, much more! Make this yule cool!

Open Says Me

2010-11-23T01:24:00.000-08:00

BV Open Studio weekend

Oh! What A Lonely Boy

2010-11-17T15:35:00.000-08:00

Scenes of Yate Pt.1

2010-08-05T07:08:00.001-07:00

Wish You Were Here..?

2010-07-28T06:40:00.001-07:00

Dear friend,
Weather is awful, food is terrible, Judith Chalmers is nowhere to be seen.
Can't wait to get home!
Lots of love,
M
x

Happy Medium

2010-07-16T05:13:00.000-07:00

Hiding behind her carpet curtain, the happy medium downloads the memory of long forgotten ghosts who never existed, real or otherwise. Disorientated, she spews all over her crocheted finery, giggling nervously as she tries to mop up the bile with some cheesecloth and photocopies of dead men. In her hand, a shell with stick on eyes, a souvenier from that place on the seafront in Weston-super-Mare, you know, the shop that has a stand outside selling knickers for a knicker and pouches for a pound. No? Oh...

Anyway, she's off to London this medium, bound for the Arts Council headquarters to offer her services as the South West's answer to Derek Acorah. Her residency lasts for 18 months during which time employees are free to ask her advice on all manner of subjects, ranging from 'is Fred Wedlock really at peace?' to 'who's your favourite - Venkman or Spengler?'

'Quite enjoyable' *

2010-07-09T12:52:00.000-07:00

Images from 'Pride and Perseverance' which was at The Last Gallery, Llangadog, 29th may - 20th June 2010.

* 'Quite enjoyable' is a quote from the visitor book.

Pilgrimage

2010-06-03T07:03:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's finally here my friends, 'Pride & Perseverance' at The Last Gallery is now open and waiting for your eyes.

It began last Saturday as we journeyed to a far off land armed with nothing but our battered wits and some junk in a box, desperate to spread the word of Yateheads. Fortunately for us, the kind people at The Last Gallery were more than happy to allow their space to be used as a gateway to access Nasty M and his kin folk. As we wiped the sweat from our brow and gritted our teeth, physical manifestations of never-before-seen imagery unfolded before our very eyes and danced around the space. We shaped and moulded these forms into recognisable, if slightly macabre objects, and kept our fingers crossed for a suitable congregation later in the evening.

They came. Generous locals were welcomed into the fold and soon became aroused by the intoxicating spirits of Biere d'Or and Mick's Homebrew. Now helpless to resist the lwa, our pilgrims found themselves knelt before the altar mumbling incomprehensible slogans like 'WTF?' and 'LOL'. I cannot conceive of a happier time - it was as if Yateheads had come home. I took a moment to reflect upon our achievements; head held high, arm raised aloft with Biro held in grubby fist, I stood on high ground punching the air as a drum beat over and over...

Later, someone suggested the limbo be brought out, but thankfully the Red Lion roared his disapproval. Soon we were sucking at his swollen teats, drowning ourselves in an altogether different kind of fun...

PRIDE & PERSEVERANCE

2010-04-23T13:20:00.000-07:00

MARTYN CROSS

THE LAST GALLERY

PREVIEW SATURDAY 29TH MAY, 6.30-9.00PM
EXHIBITION 30TH MAY – 20TH JUNE 2010

In Pride & Perseverance, I'm offering up a new collection of work for this, my first major/minor solo exhibition. The Last Gallery will act as curiosity shop for my vandalised knitting patterns and also some unusual objects created especially for the show.

The exhibition itself is partly inspired by Lost Magic Kingdoms, the much overlooked Eduardo Paolozzi show of 1985. Working with the Museum of Mankind, Paolozzi selected hundreds of items from the British Museum and showed them alongside his own work, which in itself was stimulated by the collection. In this exhibition he suggested that everyday activities and materials from our own culture may hold entirely different and marvellous properties in another world. This in essence is the foundation stone of Pride & Perseverance.

If you would like to come along and see what I've produced, the exhibition is on from the 30th May to the 20th June at The Last Gallery in Llangadog, Dyfed. Please do pay a visit and let me know what you think.

Exhibition open Saturday – Sunday, 10 – 6pm
For more information please contact enquiries@thelast.org.uk

The Last Gallery, Dyrfal Road, Llangadog, Dyfed SA19 9BR
http://www.thelast.org.uk/

Megazorb

2010-03-26T14:50:00.000-07:00

Las nite Eye woz doawn bi ze bus ub swan wiv miselv avin uh nees ub. Zere were lozza peeble dere avin uh reet gud time doawnin jars un jars un lissnin 2 ze blowks playin ze bongos. Oldies un yunguns mash ub ze playz froin zemselvs arown awl pissed ub ov zere nuts. Eyes sits watjin zem bu zey 2 owt ov id 2 care. Eyes uh bid levered 2 bu Eye noase zey canno see mi cos Eyes invisybul. Eyes in ze shadows silen.

Ze swan aint fery big bu uh deeb massif fire iz in ze midi roarin. Hod as ell tis. Bongo blowks r nere 2 dose flaims, feetures awl lid ub. Glowin red loike devils.

Zere music stars ub slo un gennel un uh rivum beats ova un ova. Grajule loike ze blowks bash zere bongos arder un arder un fazer un fazer, relenduss. Soon mi ead iz spinnin 2 ze beats un mi mine iz chok ful ov zownd un Eye dunno wijch way iz ub un wijch way iz doawn. Eyes wajin ze men hittin ze drums, swet dribbin ov zere eads, eyes close in ze momen, megazorbed bi ze noyze un arms goin toadaly menal bashin, bashin, bashin. Eye closes mi peep oles un ze muse taykes ova mi bode loike bein on azid or sumfin. In mi mines eye shaypes un paddern swirl loikes wen youse godda migrayn awl flajin lites un klidascopy.

Eye dunno wot appen nex bu showtin woz suddnlee arown mi un Eyem stanin bi ze fire starin ad 1 ov ze bongonians in ze flaims screemin. Ees urtin loike mad Eye can tell bu deres no way ees geddin owt ov zat fire cos iz inna pit awl deep. Eye culd smel ze bongo mans meat cookin. Peeble stard pushin un shovin mi, raw anger on zere fazes. Is plane zey wanna kill mi. Eyes dunno y tho un Eyes doan ass kweschuns cos Eyes doan wanna die. Eyes run.

Spliddin frew ze mellee fas un noggin peeble asyde, Eye ead strayt 4 ze rij cos Eye no Eyel looz ze mob dere. Peeble doan go dere owny on saycred dayz. 2 mudge power dere. Is 2 easee 2 shayk ze vijlants un as Eye turn arown 2 cheg iv Eyem folloed Eye see no1 iz dere. Juz sum yelps un cries cumin frum ze darg, Tis owny zen dat Eye loog doawn ad mi ans. Eyem oldin a bongo.

Eyes smiles 2 miself un laffs.

Come Friendly Bombs

2010-03-03T07:08:00.000-08:00

Soopermarked Denim

2010-02-03T13:43:00.000-08:00

Zees Woods r col. Zis freezing up ere even wiv mi levver jaket on. Eyes dunt mine tho cos iz wot Eye choze un iss mi life. Fact.

Ze cloves Eye stanin Eye ave eaver foun dowan bi ze traks or Eyev got from ze boo sel. Sumtimes Eye get em frum ze bins beyind ze charridy shoppe. It dunt madder un Eye dunt care. Sum1 as warn zese cloves afore mi un prober afore zem zeyz been warn bi sum1 els. Mi jummer as ze mark ov ‘George’ innit un mi shird 1nce blonged 2 ‘Mark Spencer’. Dunno oo zey were, mayb ze firs person2 ware em, bu now Eyev put mi name in nex to em sose peeble in ze future nose oo els as adam. Praps 1day sum bloak loike mi will fine dese cloves Eye stannin un fink ze same as Eye un put is own mark in bi mine. Praps not.

Cloves r important un youse need 2 feel prober good wen warin em. 4 insance, Eyes loikes a tite fit 4 mi soks un dere shud b no slak. Same 4 ze pants. Snug un oldin all ze bits in plays ware zey shud b. Loike Paxo zed, no wibble.

Mi leggers r ferry spezial cos zey 1nce blonged 2 ze Topman. Eyes trewly blezed cos leg end as it zat ze Topman woz a bloak callt Clarkson. Not ownee woz ee ze Topman bu ee also ad Topgear un ee rote many buks. Eyev eard, Eye dunno ware, zat buk mountins were made outta im un evere1 ad a copee ov is wurds ad giftmas. Sacred buk it wos butsard 2 fine 1 now cos zey wos pulped bi rong finkin folk oo dinnut reelise is powers. Anyways Clarkson new ow 2 ware cloves cos ze phew jpegs zat eggst o vim ee as on soopermarked denim wijch looks mazin. Hi-wasted un legs as cleer as ze brite blu sky.

Wanderer Above the Quarry

2010-01-22T14:52:00.000-08:00

Levver

2010-01-07T09:17:00.000-08:00

Mi new levver cote is warm un nice. Eye godit cheep tovver day un aven taken it ov sins. Thas 10 hole sons un 11 moos is been on mi bak wiv no reply. Eye wares it wen Eyes out un aboot, in mi cot, un even wen Eyes scrubin mi balls. Eye do ave it undon zen tho. Luvs it Eye do. Scot a sertin roamer loike ol meat cookin ad ome. Cumfurtin.

Ze cote isself is blak un masife. Wen Eye olds out mi armies Eye looks loike a bad all feersum. Sumtimes Eye runs aboot in ze Woods wiv ze cote abuv mi ead un swoops douwn on pazzers-by. Ze folk dunt loike it tho wen Eyes do zat, zey skidaddle cos zey is frytnd ov wot powers Eye mite av. Finks Eyes a black shuck sen frum Dvid imselv. Luky fur dem Eyes not.

Bak 1 nite, 1s afore long time ago, sum cheekoot ladees yungun got cawt leafin Spizzers un she nefer came bak. Bootiful she wos but sumfin tuk er awayz un ze clans were ubset. Er ma un pa put a showt out on ze screen bu twas many sons un moos afore zey fowd er shel not juz a stowns fro frum zis fery spot. Mash up ze plays in ze pit er usk wos, ripapar un volated, fuked un broken. Fin skin ova bone all silen. Spark gone.

Zis man Dvid ad tuk zat spark un fled far way but no1 nose ware. Ee sayd ee wuldnt cum bak til awl ze blokes in ze town gave apar ov zemselvs 2 ze guvs. Ee demaned enuff skin 2 cova lossa stiks un owny zen wuld ee return wiv ze spark. Mentlist ee was. Anewaze, ze blokes new zere wuld owny b justis iv zey did as bayd so gave up zere bodies 4 ze cheekoot ladees spawn.

Lo Dvid returnd. Ee new eed geddit un ee did geddit prober. Peepal wanned im ded un zey tuk is life frum im, chuked it way in ze bin. Ee wasnt seen efer again, not rownd ere. Evry1 fought zat wuld b it un zey were safe again, un zey were, bu affer so long peepal 4get wot ad gon on afore, un ze passed is zen memry un memrys r weak.

Dvid came bak. Ees ere now sumware, watshin Eye, watshin u. Ee owns dese Woods un u wuld do well 2 member zat. Ze owny fing stobbin is full return is zat spark, ze 1 ee gave bak 2 ze cheekoot ladee. She eld it burnin inside un it died wiv er a long time ago bu still ee wans it. Wans it loike mad ee does.

Meat is Meat

2010-01-07T09:07:00.000-08:00

Tordepens

2009-12-22T01:25:00.000-08:00

Eyes sitz in Eyes chair un it is comfy. In zis char Eyes can do anyfin un go anyware. Iz magic char see. Up ze road Eyes wos tovver day wen Eyes fownd zis speshal seet. Zis fella wos sellin lodes uv stuv outta is boot it wos crazee loike. Dere wos fings loike cloves un garbs un pans un nives un nicks un nacks un stuv 4 ze mankelpiss. Aulsorts. Loike a prober trezer box twas. Loads uv fukkers un gannets probably got ze bezt stuv bu dere wos a phew bits lef ova 4 uvvers. Not mutch mind.

1 ol bloak wos dere obenning dis fellas boot afore hed even stobbed is cart. Cheeky bugger. Anywayz, dis fella was avin nun uv it un struk im down quik loike, bang, on ze ead. Loike a sak uv spuds ee fell 2 ze floor broken un no fixin 2 make im bedder. Is eyes wen dull and blak.

Eye looks ad ze ded ol bloak un den at ze pumped up fella un ee looks bak un says worra cunt. Eyes juz laffs un says yeah, worra cunt. Den Eyes says youse gorany speshal seets un ee givs Eye ze evil eye loike ee did ze ol bloak so Eye baks off. Ee says dunna worry, Eye wont kill youse un yeah Eyes gotta char, u wanna see it. Eyes say yeah but tordepens ow mutch tis. Ee looks ad Eye un den he goes un grabs dis ded ol bloaks seet un says u can ave dis 1. Twas bran new Eyes rekon so Eye aggled a bit wiv im un gorit dirt cheep Eye fink. Ee even chucked in a levver jaket 2.

Ze char is nice. No many peepal ave 1 un Eyes feel luky 2 get 1 cos normaly zey is broken. Buss up. Dis 1 still as sum joose innit un meens Eye can moov it rownd jus by tutchin ze stik. Samazin. Loike floatin in ze air. Peepal see eye cumin un zey stob un marvel, canno believe wot zey see wiv zere own eyes. Finks Eyes sum kinda Blane or Koppafeel.

Messenger

2009-12-10T04:52:00.000-08:00

Cabo

2009-12-03T11:54:00.000-08:00

Eyes bin 2 zat cabo 1se but zats it. Eyev lived ere all me life anis been dere alot longer. Alot longer. Dunt goes inna town much anyway cos danzerus loike. Dunt wanno truble. Evry1 goes 2 cabo, spezial ze yununs, juz ang boot un dat. Alwees loads uv em juz sittin, noh dooin owt. Buggerz.

Peepals go 2 ze cabo cos ov a callin but zey dunno y. Iz juz inbilt like from dayz gon by Eyes reckon. Aint natral wotzere – sumfin made it, tho twant uz cos iz massif un we doun av dose skills. Sumfin magik beyond uz makin stuv so spezial loike. Monoliff zat every1 wership. Sittin circles wiv fire burnin, faces pained un bannerz un stuv.

Zey did sum diggin 1se un fown sparky biz un peezes. Fitein took plyz cos ov them there sparklers un it turned in2 war. Lozza peepal died. Sparklers go los un broken. Zeres probably more iv youse dig rowd but yud get killt iv youse did. Iss band loike and cowzil hang youse bys yer balls, cut youse up. Zey put yer bits hi on a stave un ze crows pek at em. 1se zey cut a blokes ead uv un stuk it all bluded on the stave un it woz still talkin un zen a crow cums in un peks is eyeballz out. Ees screamin un cryin blud makin noise bu zen he stops ded un tha. All silent. No 1s diggin affer tha.

Wen Eyes woz las down at cabo Eyes culdun take it in – twas 2many peepals un lossa noise. Zeres a pole thas got ovrings all rund it loike un peepal channing. Eyes ass wha gwan un a bloke sez aint u nose, un Eyes sez nose Eye dunt. Ees sez well isa geite innit, isa ware Job is anna weez haffa summin im. Eyes ass hoo Job is un e juz looks at Eye loike Eyes menalist un shakes is ead sayin youz from Yate ain you and Eyes say yea.

Vodou

2009-11-26T02:38:00.000-08:00

Daze of the Dead

2009-11-12T08:54:00.000-08:00

Gooders

2009-10-21T05:59:00.000-07:00

Eyes sitz on ze bak uv ze buzz und I likes it see. Its gooder dem a auto coz yer up hy un all. Goes wooaah roun ze wirly-gig. Eres 1 now.... wooooaaah! Eyes kick ze char in fron un eyem nautie like. R u a nautie boy?! Nautie boy! Eyes likes to sayz tha. Hu-huh.

Goin mall yeah? Was in Yaite tovver day bu me favoriz shoppe gon. My sizters gon, dunno ware. Zey look loike sizters! Hu-huh. Wooooaaah! Bees zey gon awayz... Sum doun cum bak, gon fer gooders an all. 1 my sizters wen und never sawer agen fer years un years un years un years. Wen awayz. Finks it wos a upgrade cos wen eyes sawer nex shay wos warin uver cloves, not likes in ze shoppe. 1 day Eyel gets my new cloves und shit on all yees. Wooooaaah!

Wares we 2? Zat bridge cummin up ware zose peeps died, all mangle up un shit. Eyes fink zey were nomas in a merc, zas wha eyes were toll by me da. Is da toll im und is da toll im b4 tha. Appen long time ago b4 ze Big Un. Goin fas zey were all pumped up. Din rekon fer a lan box und zey smash inoo it got ded un tha. Nuffin zere now juz weeds un shit. Gotta member ze pas tho innit...

Wooooaaah! R u a nautie boy?! Hu-huh-huh. Me da sayzat all ze time 2 me. Heel be ded soon tho so Eyelz hav 2 sayz it 2 my sun asit will continu ad infum. Wooooaah!

Weeze near ze mall now me fren. Masife ship. Los a peeps always cum ere tryin to fine summit. Eyes cummin 2 watch em like. Dunna sayz nufing tho! Eyes ded if zey foun out. Iss bad cos iss speshall time fer all und shud be sacred. Eyes dunno wy Eyes like watchin Eye jus do. Iss gooders. Mus be summit in me tha brings me ere. Wooooaaah! Summit in me flesh un boan.

Eyes watch und Eyes lern.

Teenage Sweater

2009-10-15T08:03:00.000-07:00

The Real J Hackson

2009-10-04T12:09:00.001-07:00

Unbelievable I know, but at last, Clod magazine legend J. Hackson has finally put on a show of his beautifully dirty collages. We've been waiting a long time but at the suitably remote venue of The Last Gallery, Llangadog in Wales, you can find 50 exquisite A4 assemblages of scrap paper/crap nailed to the walls. The rubbish you or I walk over is collected methodically by Hackson who in turn creates something wonderful from our waste. Shit into gold if you like. His wooden deer found in the window space are also a revelation: nostalgic mantelpiece tat transformed into a mob of majestic rutting stag courtesy of local rag twaddle. A joy to behold and well worth the journey.
http://www.thelast.org.uk/

Round the back of the shopping centre

2009-10-01T12:50:00.000-07:00

Patrick Swayze

2009-09-25T13:02:00.000-07:00

Rising from the ashes...

2009-09-24T03:17:00.000-07:00

Well my friends, recently L and I travelled epic distances and barren mindscapes to sing the praises of Yateheads. In a two day bender I first marched east to London waving the Black Flag in a call to arms to all at the Jerwood Space. Not sure many people in attendance for the Drawing Prize were that interested mind you, but I think in award winner Mit Senoj we may have a future leader. Somewhat perversely his grotesques were absolutely beautiful... After the event and wet through from the torrid rain, myself and former colleagues drank hard into the night and later the wonderful Richard Goth offered me his sofa as bed. It was most welcome.

Onwards then with L to Exeter, and our merry band continued forth joined by fellow flag waver Joan, my headless dad, an unknown baby and Dr Foster. We lit up the Phoenix that night and left with the only reward I craved - human contact and visual stimuli. More followers joined our crew, all of whom are infinitely more talented than I: the ever great Hayley Lock pounded others into submission; the bald heads of Michae-l-Iveson in my dusty brain; Mat Chivers' heavy breath still haunts my physical being; and not forgetting the ever slithering snake that is Pat Flynn. I'm not worthy to sit in their shadows, yet they welcomed me unto their fold gawd bless 'em. Alongside us was the Phoenix master Matt with two T's, and long into the night we spoke at length about things that were incredibly protracted. Some of us even lost our jackets. Great days...

Talismen

2009-09-10T03:30:00.000-07:00

Still Nothing Matters

2009-09-09T04:53:00.000-07:00

Her eye it knows me, yet the frown she wears is that of abandoned hope and the unblinking certainty of lost memory. I am a face. Just another fleshy mass of eyes, nose and mouth. She sleeps. Her body is a withered carcass of bones and sinew: a vessel she has endlessly sailed but which has now been plundered by pirates of death. She is lost and floating unmanned, battered by remorseless wave upon wave; broken by nature. Her hand grips mine softly as she dreams. Escaping the torment of incoherent thought, her subconscious world offers rest from our foreign land. A chance to find peace. She's gone now of course; shallow breath hushed.

Nothing Matters

2009-09-04T13:10:00.000-07:00

oooh... where am I?           wha... what's tha...                             who... hmm?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               is this a... this a... hospi-whasit... hospital...                                                                                                                             
ahh, yes, that's right... look at her over there... ha! is this... yes, oh yes...                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        I don't, don't, I don't know... where is she?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    
no, no thank you... where? that's right...                                                                                                                                                             yes, doughnuts haha, oh yes he loved that, loved that 
dough-what's it... yes, haha, look at her...  

                                                                    nooo! get away! I don't want that! get away! I don't like, no I'm fine, I'm fine... 
oh god... don't... no... ummmm... better...         yes, sleep now... sleep, yes, yes, mmm...                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
ooh I can't... can't... can't remember... I know... no... what's his... nice... 
he was nice then the colour... red... lovely... 
red's nice... is he? oh, I don't... I don't know... 
I just want to go home... in a home... 
I wish the lord would take me... oh yes...                                                                                                               I don't...                                                                                                                                                          oh my dear...                                                                                                                                                                      
cup of tea yes...lovely...                                                                                                                                                       what's he doing? oh! haha!! yes... lalalaalaalalalaaa... 
we had a good time didn't we... that's right... oh yes... yes...

Black Flag No. 20

2009-09-03T06:06:00.001-07:00

Fats 'n' Small

2009-08-14T01:07:00.000-07:00

Coffin Fit

2009-08-12T08:15:00.000-07:00

Company Man

2009-07-29T07:12:00.000-07:00

Everything is done by the book,
He dot's the I's and crosses his T's.
Me? Well I don't give a fook,
To hell with Q's and shove your P's.

Heaven's Giete

2009-07-29T02:54:00.000-07:00

Cat Slayers

2009-07-20T09:08:00.000-07:00

Sunshine

2009-07-20T07:46:00.000-07:00

A warmth encircles me, holds me in its arms and offers unbelievable love. Like a planet circling a sun I'm drawn into this flame as it flickers brightly; locked in its gravitational pull, compelled by its beauty.

It's always been with me but I took it for granted once, this star, forgot it was there as I stood facing a black hole which threatened to consume me without a care in the world. I fell. I lost all sense of focus, my mind shattered into a billion tiny fragments as I spiralled headlong into the abyss, unaware of the damage I'd left behind - the apocalypse of my life. As I was torn apart and bombarded by rocks my sun still shone and nurtured my soul. A constant life force upholding a dying planet.

Then nothing.

Suddenly I'm floating, certain I'm dead. I have killed myself and am destined to spend eternity in regret. Its dark and I'm alone, but as I stare longingly into the night sky I spot something - a twinkle. Not much, not much, but there's something there, something with me in this great blackness. A glimmer of hope returns and my life blood surges. Out there is immaculate beauty in a single star.

As I continue to journey through time and space, that star has become a cluster and the sky a jewellery box more resplendent than before. The heat has returned to my cold, dark heart and I'm surrounded by infinite solar systems, each one with its own shining sun. I rest a while and soon realise that I too have my own sun again as I forever circle in its radiant light. I know not how or why it returned, but I am thankful to bask once more in the life and light it brings. Without it I'm nothing.

I worship that heavenly body.

Mr. Inconspicuous

2009-07-17T03:35:00.000-07:00

My name is Graham and I am 17 stone 6lbs. My waist measurement is 42 inches and my collar size is 16 and a half. In 233 days I'm due to be 42 years old.

My car of choice is a Y reg Ford Mondeo; it has air conditioning and a missing hubcap from the front right hand wheel. In the glove compartment I keep a tin of travel sweets, a pack of tissues and a piece of used clingfilm. The clingfilm once wrapped a homemade ham and cheese sandwich that I consumed on the 29th of March 2001.

Today I am sat in my car which is parked adjacent to Aldi in the Gloucestershire town of Thornbury. The car park is a public one and does not belong to Aldi. It is 4:15am and there is a faint drizzle in the air that has formed a mist on the windscreen. My clothes are slightly damp from when I was earlier outside attaching a hose to the exhaust pipe of my car. Next to me on the passenger seat I have a Tesco carrier bag containing a ham and cheese sandwich wrapped in clingfilm. I made it last night. It is slightly sweaty. I eat the sandwich and screw the clingfilm into a small ball, roll it in the palms of my hands and pop it next to the other piece of clingfilm in the glove compartment.

The silence around me hums.

Cult of one

2009-07-13T14:40:00.000-07:00

Digging deep into the sludge
I chance upon a Cadbury's Fudge
Wrapper and dead tin of Stella
Keep for shrine inside my cellar

Stone the crows

2009-07-10T14:29:00.000-07:00

The silent hum of megalithic man washed over us as we walked around those ancient stones. We touched one of them and felt something - that something ladies and gentlemen, was stone. Cold and unforgiving they towered over us like only massive lumps of granite can. I was about to cry as the sheer weight of history took its toll on my fragile soul, when in the distance we heard wailing - it was hippies.

Approaching the gathering, we laughed as they pranced around and it was quite obvious the flower people were either having a joint mental breakdown of some sort, or tripping. What other reason could there be for a woman to balance an empty Thermos© mug on her head as she stood on one leg? Why would a man scream utter nonsense at the top of his lungs whilst performing squat thrusts? One female looked heavenwards and placed a plastic carrier bag on her head. Clearly all were insane.

The chime of miniature cymbals woke us from our transfixed state and we closed our mouths.

Leaving Moonbeam, Sky Child and friends to channel their chi and realign their chakras, we headed off in the footsteps of our ancestors, keen to cleanse our souls of the muck spread by middle class drop-outs going 'off grid'. The sun was high in the sky as we walked full stone circle, but still we came to no conclusions as to what the hell the rocks were for. We could only guess at best.

Eventually we ended up in the gift shop where, with our hard earned wages, we bought a book, a postcard, and Magnum ice-creams. The hippies were still mooing. I suppose they would say we're under the thumb of the man, man.

Voiding into plastic pants

2009-07-09T08:18:00.001-07:00

Dolly had a point...

2009-07-09T08:13:00.000-07:00

Get up at six, look at the sky
I think of things that don't compute
Forever asking myself why
I wake up for the days commute

What a way to make a living

Future Cathedral

2009-07-09T08:09:00.000-07:00

On this damned coil I dwell
Destined for the pit of hell
Into Satan's lair I fall
Looks just like Cribb's Causeway Mall

Rites of Passage

2009-06-19T12:23:00.000-07:00

Black Flag No.101

2009-06-19T12:21:00.000-07:00

Feral Baby

2009-01-25T14:26:00.000-08:00

I was born under a blood red sky and immediately killed my mother. She was the first of many to die by my own fair hand, although admittedly I knew very little about it. Apparently I left the womb clutching in my tiny, bloody paws, one of mother dearests kidneys and part of her bowel. My father, bless him, decided there and then I wasn't worth the hassle, so he chucked me in the bin and it was only pure fortune that saved me from certain death. Luckily for me a stray cat overturned that bin whilst it was searching for scraps, and I managed to crawl to safety despite the obvious disadvantage of being a new born baby. The moggy (Steven) being adept in the art of knitting, created a wonderful set of clothing for me in utter silence whilst I cried like a baby, and to him I am eternally grateful. He buggered off after a while, so finding myself cold and alone I took it upon myself to find shelter for the evening, skillfully erecting a temporary domicile from an abandoned shoe, using a broken mug as pillow in a bed I constructed from a chocolate bar wrapper (Snickers). I cried myself to sleep that night ladies and gentlemen, for I was unsure how else to express the loss of my life. I wept so hard that my eyes turned black, shedding beautiful tears of glistening tar. Soiling myself several times I neglected to change my nappy, not because I couldn't, more that I wanted to feel the product of my own effluvia on my soft downy skin. It's a complete mystery how I managed to survive that first night, but it seems someone, or something, decreed that I should remain on this world and wreak the havoc that I'm about to unleash on your asses. Get ready people...

Dolphins

2009-01-07T06:06:00.000-08:00

Greetings Time Traveller,

At some point later in this month of Janus, my merry band of followers will accompany me to my liver for the sale. There's only one, it's big and goes by the name of Hugh. I have it on good authority that stalwarts Baby Grey, David Davidoff and the Kids will all be there, alongside new members Eddie Pogul and sun worshiper Mozza Hoe. We'll travel up the pylorus via the duodenum and then onto the bile duct until we reach the pool, and if we're lucky the foie gras will be going cheap as chips (for it would be good to get rid of the damn stuff).

If that weren't enough for you, well listen to this good stuff: in what many are referring to as a homecoming extravaganza, I Lord Nasty M will be visiting crime town capital Londinium for a spectacular drawing session with dolphins. Along for the ride will be my two lovely tattooed boys (below) and a feral baby. The closest I've ever been to a dolphin was probably the time when I was in Argos picking up an ironing board (item number 850/0650 of the Argos catalogue fact fans) where I was stood behind a lady wearing a black bat-wing bomber jacket emblazoned with the legendary Flipper in glorious technicolour across her back. It was an impressive sight, enough for me to make a mental note never to work with dolphins. Despite this, the chance of a gig in the smoke is enough for me to lay down my grudges and take the plunge for a swim with our distant relatives. I don't think they can draw mind you, as they have no fingers for which to grip a stylo. Perhaps they stick it in their blow-hole... I'll let you know sometime in Mars.

Yours as ever,

Nasty M

Downloading the Screaming Black Sun Warrior

2008-12-19T08:13:00.000-08:00

It was last night, as I sat deep in contemplation following a particularly robust bout of hiccups, that I suddenly became aware of my name being called. Ordinarily this would be nothing unusual save for the fact that the voice came from within my head and I was alone in the house. Fortunately I am fine tuned to such occurances due to my innate ability to communicate with beings outside of our own realm (a curse that was passed down to me from mother), so I was not afraid nor particularly surprised by this turn of events. Indeed, only two days past I conducted a seance for some select individuals spending the best part of two hours channelling their father, speaking in tongues and urinating over the kitchen table. With my voice resembling a car crash heard through the ears of weeping child, the patriarchal ghost took possession of my body and shat in my soul, laughing as it did so. 'Twas only my strength of character and a clout on the back of my head from the terrified daughter that brought an end to the session, saving us all from certain demonic and catastrophic infestation. Anyway, I digress, but it is fair to say I can handle a booming voice greeting me from the ether. Last night however, as I let myself be taken over by the sweet sound bearing my name, I suddenly felt my bowels loosen and my gusset tearing as the words became deathly in their manner. The honey-dipped vocals now spoke through the arse of a devil. With my brain detached from my mouth, incantations fell from my hole in an unearthly language, my body a mere vessel for unrelenting rage. As I lay dying I managed to glean from the monster only two things: it was a Screaming Black Sun Warrior and it hailed from Yate. Now what the hell does that mean?

For the Gods

2008-12-18T09:05:00.000-08:00

I've always wanted to do this. Everyone has. It's what you crave and hope your destiny will be. Ever since I was a youngster my dreams have been filled with the glory of my soul ascending new heights above and beyond any earthly promises. Night after night I would be led by my own unconsciousness to a place no other human could ever know or believe. I knew then my place would be guaranteed in the final selection and that fate had decreed I was the chosen one.

The road has been a long and tiring one, each day presenting new and humbling challenges, yet I've dealt with them and learnt to trust my inner totem. Something inside is looking out through my eye holes yet it is not me. It knows everything I know but is at once removed from my emotions and stands back observing my life. It makes no judgements on my character, nor does it suggest an alternate path, yet it controls my every moment, waking and sleeping. This is my totem. It has known from my very conception the path my life would lead. A preordained route is what I have followed and no matter my decisions, I will always follow it. My flesh and bone will die, my soul will live on. That is all.

Now it is time for me to leave this mortal coil, for I am more valuable in another dimension and I cannot keep them waiting any longer. Light the fires comrade! Strike up the band!

Goodbye dear friends! Goodbye!

The Earl

2008-12-03T03:04:00.000-08:00

I've managed to stay hidden amongst my people for several years now. Thanks to their unthinking kindness I, the Earl, have slept in their beds, eaten their food, made love to their women. They have not questioned my actions, nor asked why there is a reward on my head. I am an outlaw in the outlands and I am untouchable. The mention of my name spreads fear but commands respect, yet nobody knows who I am. I exist only as a myth but am flesh and bone, sinew and guts, life and death.

I said to one fellow 'Give me your child'. He acquiesced and I ate his beloved offspring with some roast potatoes for dinner - a tasty morsel no less. The father, a man with very few brain cells and even less brain, mistook my act of savagery for something less vile, complimenting me on my good taste. I later raped his wife.

Back to the future

2008-11-28T12:06:00.000-08:00

And so it was dear reader, that I saw the future, oh yes. And what a future it is. I can tell you now with all my heart that the world awaiting us around that corner, that one just over the brow of that hill, is entirely and quite forbiddingly... bleak. Well, most of it is anyway. Were it not for a few of my comrades and loyal band of followers, I think maybe, just maybe, I would've been sucked into the vortex never to be seen again. We were unfortunate enough to lose dear old Al, yet in some way, his loss is our gain as we rose like a phoenix from the ashes and ventured forth into the unknown, determined to forget the present but move forward with aplomb. I moved forward like a plumb and spent most of the evening spouting forth words of wisdom that made no sense to the gawping public, and later I spoke to my god down the big white telephone. I spoke his name over and over again, praying for his forgiveness but he dished out none, even making me pay for my transgressions by erasing my memory cassette.

Still, I am safely back in my abode now and have had time to dwell on my actions of which I take no blame. Nerves played a big part, but nevertheless, I think I made a good impression. I was slightly disturbed however by some fellow travellers who took the whole affair far too seriously, prattling on about specific details as though it really mattered. Sometimes you can't get things right and most of the time people don't care anyway, so forget about it. I certainly did.

Nomad

2008-11-10T15:30:00.000-08:00

A word from our sponsor:

As I look down upon you from my vantage point high up in a tree near the edge of the Acid Baths, I note that my words are spoken by you without thinking, without remembering. There is no thought process as you utter minor particulars about a neighbour – you don’t know that your words are my words. I’ve lived your life and those of every person you’ll ever meet; I’ve spoken that phrase, that line, that passing quip. I don’t know your name and you’ll never know mine, yet at once we are one.

I look down at my weathered hands, dry from gathering wood and grubby from the mud. The lines on my palms conceal the history of the world, yet still my fingers perform and desire such mundane tasks as picking my nose and scratching my arse. An itch needs to be scratched no matter where it resides.

The local children often pass by my hide and I regale them with stories of a past that they will never know, but that they feel in every breath. They mostly laugh at my words, sometimes throwing stones, occasionally shit, and ignore the wisdom I bestow upon them. You can’t blame them, for they know not what my eyes have seen, the tears I’ve shed, souls I’ve touched. I pity them and feel their pain.

I spy now a wren as it perches on a branch just outside my grasp. It looks at me and I enquire its name but it ignores me, popping out a waste sack from it’s behind. I laugh knowing instantly that this sums up the plight of all of you, after all, what is humanity save for a bin liner full of crap. A man walking his dog is startled by my laughter emerging from the foliage; he runs away with his hound scampering alongside. Aside from this my current residence in a tree, I once placed my body in self imposed exile, spending my days in the dunes of Wessum drinking stagnant water from discarded plastic bottles, pooing in hand-dug holes near the sparse scrub I called home. People ran from me then too.

The sky is deep red now, sun burning the past as it sets on other day. By now I’ve climbed to the very top of the tree, standing tall with both arms spread wide, and in one of my hard hands I clench a wooden sword that I earlier fashioned from a fallen branch. In my other hand an amulet is held tight amongst a fist. Pumping the sword high towards the heavens, I call now to you my people, my soldiers, to be brave, to take the fight onwards and to never give in, don’t falter. Now is the time and the time is about now, well, in a minute or so. No, hang on a sec... now.

The Future

2008-11-08T15:02:00.000-08:00

Taking the North by storm at the end of Novemberum, our saviour Lord Nasty M will be transporting Home Arts Club members The Earl of Chips 'n' Ham, David Davidoff David, Al the Chemist, flame haired beauty Mrs Lee, and Baby Grey to a Future50 at PSL in Leeds. Yate's gateway aperture is opening wider than ever before to allow the innocent masses in. Welcome them my friends, with warm words and supple hands, welcome them! The 21st of this our leggy calendar month will see a landmark venture of hope, swiftly followed by a terrifying kick in the nuts - we must hold firm dear friends and link arms in a power huddle if we are to survive this momentous occasion!

Mrs Skidmark

2008-11-08T14:57:00.000-08:00

Notes on Mrs Skidmark

Joan Skidmark has lived in Wessum for what seems like an absolute eternity, unassuming but persistent like a barnacle on the hull of a rapidly sinking vessel. Running the Dreadnought guest house with her husband of 115 years, the cigar chomping navvy Ivor, Joan belligerently assails any potential residents, killing their very souls the instant they foolishly request a room. She doesn't give a fuck. Dishing out slug soup with added grit for bite, Mrs Skidmark gives nothing away for free and even that's too much. Mysteriously valued by the local seamen for her ballsy attitude, she is the lynchpin in Wessum's community but has almost single-handedly murdered any hope of the town becoming a popular seaside resort. Of her swelling infamy she states: 'Fuck off. Cunt.'

This Charming Jumper

2008-11-05T14:41:00.000-08:00

Apollo Marilyn writes:

'Hello there dearest one. My word how you've grown. For you this very day I give you everything, including this charming jumper I found in a skip outside my flat. No, I don't want it thanks - I got it for you and yours. Hmm... yes... really... you're terribly boring, do you know that? I hope I don't offend. Well, I really must be going now. Goodbye.

2008-11-05T14:14:00.000-08:00

Welcome dear reader, to the online ramblings of my friends, family and loved ones - the Yateheads.
Ever yours,
Nasty M